Monday arrived quietly.
No follow-up emails from the DOJ.
No additional requests.
No clarifications.
Silence—deliberate and meaningful.
Julian read it for what it was: the review was finished, and the answer had been acceptable.
At Pearson Specter, silence traveled faster than gossip.
The partners didn't call a meeting. They didn't have to. Doors closed. Conversations lowered. Calculations were made.
Julian felt it—but this time, the distance wasn't avoidance. It was evaluation.
The call came just before noon.
Donna appeared in his doorway, expression unreadable. "Client request."
"Which client?"
"Northstar Biologics," she said. "And they asked for you. By name."
That got attention.
Northstar wasn't flashy. No scandals. No tabloid interest. But they lived and died on government contracts—and credibility.
Their general counsel didn't waste time.
"We're facing an FDA compliance review," she said, sitting across from Julian in the conference room. "It's not adversarial. Yet."
Julian nodded. "Those are the dangerous ones."
She smiled thinly. "Exactly. There's a reporting inconsistency. Not fraud. But if mishandled, it escalates."
"And you don't want it to."
"We want someone regulators will believe," she said plainly. "Your name came up repeatedly."
Julian glanced at the documents. "You're asking for cooperation."
"We're asking for credibility."
Julian closed the folder. "Then we do thiscleanly."
The strategy wasn't dramatic.
It was precise.
Julian ordered a rapid internal audit. No posturing. No defensiveness. Just facts. They found the inconsistency within hours—an internal control gap, not misconduct.
"Disclose," Julian advised. "Voluntarily. With corrective steps attached."
The room went still.
"That weakens us," one executive said.
"It stabilizes you," Julian replied. "And it removes leverage from anyone else."
Northstar followed his lead.
The FDA responded within days.
Review downgraded.
No referral.
No escalation.
A win so quiet it barely registered—unless you understood what didn't happen.
Harvey did.
He leaned against Julian's doorway that evening, arms crossed, thoughtful.
"You didn't fight," Harvey said.
"I prevented one."
Harvey smirked. "You make people behave better. I hate that."
Julian smiled faintly. "You'll survive."
"I know," Harvey said. "That's the annoying part."
Dana noticed the shift immediately.
Not in Julian—but in the firm's posture around him.
"They're not keeping you at arm's length anymore," she said later, curled beside him on the couch.
"No," Julian agreed. "They're deciding how close to stand."
She looked at him. "And if they decide wrong?"
He met her eyes. "Then I decide too."
That answer seemed to satisfy her.
Jessica called Julian in just before the end of the day.
She didn't sit behind her desk this time. She stood by the window, city stretched below.
"You cost the firm a certain kind of client," she said.
Julian waited.
"And you attracted another," she continued. "One we don't usually get."
He nodded once. "That was the idea."
Jessica turned to face him. "I'm not offering you partnership. Not yet."
"I wasn't expecting it."
"I'm offering you autonomy," she said. "You choose your cases. You draw your lines. And the firm backs them."
Julian studied her. "That has a cost."
Jessica smiled slightly. "So do you."
She extended her hand. "I'm not asking you to fit in."
Julian took it. "You're asking me to stay."
"Yes."
He shook her hand firmly. "Then we're aligned."
That night, Julian and Dana cooked together. Music low. Conversation unhurried.
"Five years," Dana said casually. "Where do you want to be?"
Julian thought about it. About lines. About trust. About staying.
"Right here," he said. "But on my terms."
She smiled. "Good. Mine too."
Outside, the city moved forward as it always did.
Inside Pearson Specter, something had settled.
Julian Cross wasn't a risk anymore.
He was a choice.
And the firm had just made it.
Author's Comment:
Chapter 10 closes the first major arc. Julian proves that ethics aren't a liability—they're a market advantage. The firm adapts, Jessica commits, and a new status quo is set. From here, the story opens outward: bigger cases, deeper politics, and long-term life decisions.