Elowen's POV

I found myself immersed in the familiar hustle and bustle of a café, the aroma of freshly ground coffee beans lingering in the air. Among the crowd of hurried individuals, I spotted Zander occupying a table by the window, engrossed in a phone conversation. Determined, his gaze remained fixed on me, an unspoken message in his eyes.

I was still surprised he wanted to come here. Zander and I were in the car, heading to the firm. We were a few blocks away when I caught sight of this café. During my daily walks to work, I'd pass by it, silently wishing for a chance to step inside. However, the high prices had always kept me at bay, but a girl can wish.

I was sitting in the car, looking the at the café longingly, before Zander suddenly asked the driver to stop the car. We were still a few blocks away so I looked at Zander in confusion. 

"Coffee," was all he said in his gruff voice as he gestured towards the cute little place.

Well, I'm certainly not complaining.

Weaving through the maze of tables, I made my way to the counter, placing an order for Zander's usual americano and my caramel macchiato. As I paid, the barista's hands moved swiftly, crafting the aromatic concoctions that promised to jumpstart our day.

Of course his drink of choice is an americano. Why am I not surprised? 

With two steaming cups in hand, I approached Zander's table. He acknowledged me with a subtle nod, accepting the coffee as he continued his conversation. "Yes, I understand the urgency of the Thompson case," he spoke into the phone, his voice carrying a confident undertone. "Make sure the legal team is thorough with the background check. We need every detail before we proceed."

I could only catch snippets of the conversation, but it was evident that the case held a significant weight. Zander's expressions shifted from thoughtful contemplation to decisive authority as he discussed legal strategies. 

I stared outside the window, sipping at my coffee, as I looked at the people passing-by. I sighed in content, wishing all of my mornings started off like this. Fancy coffee and watching people, what more could a girl want?

I looked at Zander, who still had his eyes on me, as he spoke into the phone about the technicalities of his case. His coffee cup was sitting in front oh him, empty. I finished off mine before taking his cup and mine, pointing towards the bin a few steps away. He nodded at me as he kept talking away on his phone, his voice growing frustrated. 

Walking towards the bin, I spotted my landlord sitting a few tables away. 'What the fuck is he doing here?' I muttered as I lowered my head, trying to make sure I don't run into that despicable man. 

I've had a great morning and I definitely want to keep it that way.

I threw away our cups and was about to turn around but suddenly he was there, standing right in front of me. I tried to brush past him, hoping to avoid any confrontation, but he couldn't stop himself from being a pain in my ass.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't little Elowen. Fancy seeing you here darling, you'd think this place is out of budget for you."

Still hoping to avoid talking to him, I tried to sidestep him but he blocked my way again. He leered at me, his eyes going over my body as he licked his lips. 

Disgusting.

"You've still not given me rent for this month, baby. You know, you don't have to live there anymore. You should consider upgrading. I know a few of my places you might be able to afford... only if you're willing to, you know, work something out," he sneered, his tone dripping with insinuation.

"Such a pretty face, I can think of so many things I would do to it to make it look even prettier."

I felt bile rising in my throat as I heard his words, trying not to throw up all over the disgusting pig. 

He then reached out, his hand moving closer to my face as he gave me a repulsive smirk. I shrunk back, trying to avoid contact with him as panic filled me. Looking around, I was caged in with his body. I thought about kneeing him where it hurts but couldn't, as I don't think I would be able to find another apartment this soon. 

In the blink of an eye, Zander materialised beside me, his grip closing around the landlord's hand like a vice. The stark strength in Zander's hold sent a shiver through the landlord and me. Zander's eyes blazed with an intense fury, his entire demeanour radiating an intimidating aura.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing, talking to her like that?" Zander's voice thundered, his eyes ablaze with fury.

Zander's jaw tensed, and the muscles in his arm flexed as he held the landlord's hand captive. His calm and composed demeanour from the morning had transformed into a storm of wrath. The sheer power in Zander's stance and the unyielding grip on the landlord's hand sent an unmistakable message – a message that made the landlord shrink back, his bravado evaporating in the face of Zander's wrath.

Zander's response was a chilling escalation. "Listen closely, you pathetic motherfucker. If you ever so much as fucking breathe in her direction again, I'll ensure you're fucking gone from this world. No one will find a trace of you. Your life will be over, understand?"

"And trust me, your face will be fucking miles away from pretty once I'll be done with you," he promised, before giving him one last glare. He grabbed my hand and stormed through the café, his grip tight and unyielding. 

Zander's grip on my hand remained firm as he swiftly led me out of the café, the intensity of his anger palpable. The bustling street sounds faded as we entered a secluded alleyway, providing a backdrop for the impending conversation.

His voice, though controlled, carried an underlying tension as he demanded, "Who was that?"

I met his gaze, the protective fury in his eyes contrasting with the strange sense of security I felt. "My landlord. He's just upset about rent, but I've got it sorted now," I explained, my voice steady despite the residual anxiety.

Zander's anger simmered beneath the surface as he continued to scrutinize me. I, however, found myself strangely comforted by his protective demeanor. "Thank you," I said, the gratitude evident in my voice.

Before I met the brothers, I can't remember the last time someone cared.

Zander's response was curt, "No need to thank me. I won't tolerate anyone causing you harm." His words were a solemn promise, an oath to shield me from harm.

"I-You....Huh?"

I attempted to express my thoughts, stammering slightly, but Zander cut me off. "Enough talk. We need to get to the firm," he declared, his stern expression leaving no room for further discussion. As we walked towards their destination, I couldn't shake the sense of newfound security that lingered in Zander's presence.

___

I sigh as I follow Lysander into his office. He lets out a frustrated breath as he throws the file on the desk, running his hands through his hair. 

The weight of the embezzlement case hung heavy in the air as Lysander paced around the office, frustration etched across his face. I quietly closed the door behind us, exchanging a glance with him. His usually sharp features were clouded with a mix of annoyance and concern.

"Ms. Nocturne, did you go through the financial statements?" Lysander's voice cut through the tense atmosphere, his eyes narrowing as he sought answers.

"Yeah, it's all there. The funds were siphoned off systematically," I replied, my gaze fixed on the stack of papers in my hands. I hesitated, not knowing if I should tell him what I'm thinking about. 

You might be right, and if you are, it'll definitely help the case.

"Umm.... There's something I wanted to talk to you about."

Lysander turns, all his focus on me as he nods for me to go on.

"I've watched all the videos of him in custody when he was being questioned and also observed his behaviour right now when we were with him. However, something doesn't seem to align......."

Lysander looks at me with furrowed brows, "What do you mean, 'doesn't align'? We have evidence, Ms. Nocturne. Financial records don't lie."

"I'm not disputing the financial records, but there's something else at play here," I explained, watching as Lysander's skepticism morphed into curiosity.

"What do you mean?" he raised a brow, as he waited for me to continue.

"I'm a psychology major, and from what I can make out, Alex is exhibiting signs of dissociative identity disorder. His memory gaps, his sudden changes in personalities, it all adds up......"

"Dissociative Identity Disorder? You think he's faking it?" Lysander raised an eyebrow, skeptical of my psychological assessment.

"No, I think it's genuine. Alex is hiding something, or rather, someone. He switches between different personalities. It's a psychological condition that could significantly impact the case," I elaborated, my fingers lightly tapping the stack of financial documents, thinking back this Alex's attitude and mannerisms.

Lysander let out a low exhale, sinking into his chair. "DID? How does that play into the embezzlement?"

"Each personality may have different knowledge and attitudes. We need to consider if any of the alternate personalities were responsible for the embezzlement," I suggested, my mind racing with the potential implications.

Fuck, if this is true, it could be big.

Lysander leaned back, absorbing the information. "Alright, we need to approach this strategically. Get a psychological evaluation done discreetly. We can't afford to overlook any angle in this case."

Nodding in agreement, I made an appointment with a private psychological clinic for Alex. If this was true, it could reshape the entire defence strategy.

As I gathered the scattered papers and handed a few more files to Lysander, the weight of the case lingered in the air. The room, once bustling with tension, now felt like a battlefield of documents. Lysander seemed lost in thought, processing the unexpected turn in our strategy.

"Elowen," his voice broke the silence as I was about to leave, my hand on the doorknob. I turned to face him, questioning.

He never calls me by my first name.

"I really appreciate your help on this case," he admitted, his voice deep as he looked into my eyes.

A blush crept up my cheeks as I stammered, "I-I'm just doing my job, Mr. Tenebris."

"No, it's more than just that. Your unique perspective is a big asset to the firm and to us. Keep up the good work," he commended, a rare warmth softening his usual composed demeanor.

As I stepped out into the hallway, I couldn't help but feel a renewed sense of purpose. The acknowledgment from Lysander, the brother known for his dedication to his work, resonated deeply. Making my way to my office, being appreciated filled me with a new dedication.