The subpoena arrived at eight twelve in the morning.
It wasn't dramatic. No agents. No sealed envelopes. Just a neatly worded request routed through Pearson Specter's legal intake, narrow in scope and polite in tone.
That was what made it dangerous.
Julian read it once. Then again.
"Person with material knowledge," he murmured.
Donna appeared in his doorway like she'd been summoned. "That phrasing is intentional."
"Yes," Julian said. "It always is."
By nine, the partners knew.
The reaction wasn't panic. It was distance—measured, strategic, quiet. Some faces tightened. Some softened. Everyone recalculated.
Jessica called Julian in.
"This is oversight," she said before he could speak. "Not prosecution."
"I know."
"They're reviewing how Raventport interpreted DOJ guidance," Jessica continued. "Your guidance."
Julian nodded. "They want context."
"They want control," Jessica corrected. "If this stays voluntary, it stays quiet."
"And if it doesn't?"
Jessica met his eyes. "Then it becomes about appearances."
Harvey was already there, arms crossed, jaw set.
"He stays inside the tent," Harvey said. "We manage this."
Jessica didn't disagree. "We will."
Julian folded the subpoena. "I'll sit for the interview."
Harvey glanced at him. "You sure?"
"I don't run from process," Julian said. "I helped build it."
The DOJ call came an hour later. Friendly. Professional. Probing beneath the surface.
They wanted documents Julian touched at the firm.
They wanted his recollection of drafting timelines.
They wanted to know if Raventport had advance insight.
They did not accuse him of anything.
They didn't have to.
When Julian left Jessica's office, Donna watched him pass.
"They're not asking questions because they're confused," she said quietly.
Julian nodded. "They're asking because I know too much."
That night, Julian told Dana everything.
Not the polished version. Not the safe version.
The real one.
They sat on her couch, the city humming faintly through the windows. No files between them. No phones.
"I helped write the environmental compliance guidelines," Julian said. "Not alone. But my name's on them."
Dana listened without interrupting.
"We knew companies would try to push the edges," he continued. "We built flexibility into the system because enforcement without discretion breaks it."
"And now?" she asked.
"And now that flexibility is being used as cover," Julian said. "Ravenport didn't break the law. They delayed accountability."
Dana nodded slowly. "And the DOJ wants to know if that was intentional."
"Yes."
"And if you benefited."
"No."
"That's your answer," she said. "But not theirs."
Julian leaned back, exhaling. "They're not after guilt. They're after narrative. If something goes wrong later, they want to know where to point."
Dana turned to face him fully. "Is there anything you didn't tell me before now?"
He didn't hesitate. "No."
"Anything that puts you at risk?"
"There's pressure," Julian said. "Not exposure."
She held his gaze. "Is there any version of this where you're not okay?"
"Yes," he said honestly. "But none where I did anything wrong."
Dana reached for his hand. "Then we don't play defense."
He looked at her. "What does that mean?"
"It means no surprises," she said. "No protecting me by withholding. If it escalates, I know when you know."
Julian nodded. "Agreed."
"And if the firm wavers?"
"We decide together," he said.
Dana smiled faintly. "Good. Because I don't need you to be safe. I need you to be honest."
Julian squeezed her hand. "Then you get everything."
The interview was scheduled for Friday.
Voluntary. On the record. Controlled.
Jessica prepped him personally. Harvey sat in. Donna took notes and corrected phrasing.
"Answer what they ask," Jessica said. "Nothing more."
Julian nodded. "That's always been my approach."
Harvey smirked. "You're terrible at playing dumb."
"I don't," Julian replied. "I play precise."
Friday came.
The DOJ conference room was familiar. Too familiar.
Same lighting. Same chairs. Different side of the table.
They asked about drafting intent.
They asked about enforcement discretion.
They asked whether Raventport had influenced language.
Julian answered calmly. Completely.
"No advance insight," he said.
"No coordination," he said.
"No deviation from enforcement standards," he said.
When they asked why he'd refused to delay disclosures now, he didn't hesitate.
"Because delay causes harm," Julian said. "And harm is cumulative."
The interviewer nodded. "That's consistent with your record."
When it was over, Julian felt lighter than he expected.
Outside, Dana waited.
"How was it?" she asked.
"Clean," he said. "Political. But clean."
She smiled. "Good."
As they walked away from the building, Julian realized something had shifted again.
Not away from him.
Toward him.
At the firm, Jessica received the post-interview memo. She read it once. Then smiled—small, private, satisfied.
"They didn't rattle you," Donna said.
Jessica looked through the glass at Julian's office. "No. They confirmed him."
Harvey leaned in the doorway nearby. "So now what?"
Jessica closed the file. "Now we see who else gets nervous."
That evening, Julian and Dana cooked dinner together. Nothing fancy. Music low. Conversation easy.
No fear. No contingency plans.
Just trust.
And that, Julian knew, was the promise that would outlast everything else.
Author's Comment:
Chapter 9 activates the DOJ arc fully—procedural, political, and realistic. Julian isn't accused; he's evaluated. The real shift is personal: complete honesty between Julian and Dana, and a mutual promise of no surprises. From here, pressure won't test their relationship—it will test the firm.