Third Person's POV

Lysander sighed, sinking into his leather chair as he looked at the stack of case requests on his desk. 'Why must I be in charge of selecting and assigning cases?' 

Of course I'm in charge, as the other two barely have a molecule of responsibility in them.

 Thinking about Zander's impulsiveness and Zephyr's ignorance, he sighed again.

I wish they did something other than being a pain in my ass.

Each case brought its own set of moral dilemmas, and Lysander was meticulous in his selection. His eyes narrowed as he came across a file detailing the case of a 37-year-old married man accused of raping and killing a girl. 

Disgust flickered across his features, and he wasted no time categorising it into the rejection pile. The evidence was lacking, and it would be fairly easy to win this case. However, there would be no defence for someone who had committed such atrocities, Lysander thought as he made a mental note to ensure the man faced the consequences he deserved, leveraging the power of his connections. 

'If only Zander understood the importance of connections', he thought recalling the way Zander downright refused to go to any charity balls and events. 

The public's perception may vary, but Lysander and his brothers stood firm in their principles—they defended only those who truly deserved it, driven by a purpose that transcended the courtroom. 

There's a reason behind everything we do, but of course, we can't expect people to understand.

Lysander leaned back in his chair, his mind briefly wandering away from the stack of case files. The Tenebris brothers were known for their professional demeanor, seldom engaging in social circles for anything other than business. 

He could count on one hand the number of people, excluding his brothers, with whom he shared a personal connection. Loneliness wasn't the label he'd give to their existence—it was more like a deliberate choice. The Tenebris brothers had weathered storms together, forged in the crucible of tough times, and had relentlessly worked to ascend the ladder of success. 

The most comforting thought in those solitary moments was the knowledge that, annoying as they could be, his brothers had his back, standing as an unbreakable trio. 

Lysander stood up, slipping into his suit jacket as he made his way towards the door of his office. The week had been a relentless grind of work, and it was high time the Tenebris brothers took a breather. The idea of a weekend break had crossed his mind, a necessary pause to prevent Zander from descending into a frenzy of work-induced madness and Zephyr from burning out. 

Opening the door, he found himself lost in contemplation, only to be jolted by the sight of a woman entering Zander's office. 

Has he gone back to fucking in middle of office hours-

"What the fuck is taking that long?"

'Never mind, he's just having another one of his ridiculous tantrums.' He shakes his head, thinking about his short-tempered and impulsive brother. Acting first, and thinking later.

Refocusing, he continued toward his secretary, who rose to greet him.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Tenebris. How can I assist you today?" the secretary inquired.

Lysander sighed, "Clear up my schedule and my brothers' for the weekend."

His secretary furrowed his eyebrows, opening his mouth to speak. 

"But-"

"Make it happen."

"Of course, Mr. Tenebris."

Hearing Zander's voice through the soundproof room, he sighed. 

Maybe I should move him to another floor. Ideally, before Zephyr decides rearrange his pretty boy face because he won't stop disturbing him.

As he walked closer to his office, he could make out Zander's rage filled words.

"There's hundreds of people who would kill to get the opportunity you have and do the fucking job right. How HR hired someone so utterly stupid is beyond me. Is it too much to expect you to do your basic tasks right? Is it that hard? And what the fuck is so interesting in on the floor? Fucking look up!"

Maybe it was a good decision, a weekend break. He's losing it over something stupid, I bet. 

Lysander felt a twinge of irritation as he sighed, realising once again that Zander's temper needed a serious check before he angered Zephyr. The last thing he wanted to do was to explain to the media about the bruises on both their faces. 

Opening the door, he found Zander behind the desk, fixated on a woman standing a few steps away. He stepped in, closing the door behind him, and stood next to the woman, her face concealed by her hair, noticing her slight tremble. 

He looked at Zander, unimpressed. 

He really needs to stop scaring all the employees. Not even an hour into a day, and he's already reduced someone to tears.

"Zander, my brother, must you create such a ruckus? Some of us are attempting to work," Lysander said, before continuing, "The entire floor need not be privy to your thoughts on the competence of our interns. I agree with you but keep it down, won't you?"

Before Zander could utter a word, Lysander's attention was abruptly drawn to a soft sniffle, causing him to shift his gaze toward the woman standing at his side. An unexplainable urge surged through him, compelling him to meet her eyes. As she turned to make eye contact, Lysander found himself utterly taken aback. 

The woman standing beside him was undeniably stunning, a perfect harmony of features that accentuated her beauty. Her jet-black hair framed her face elegantly, cascading in a graceful fall. Large, expressive brown eyes held an enchanting depth, and below her straight nose, a pair of pink, pouty lips added a touch of allure. Shapely, arched eyebrows framed her gaze, contributing to the overall allure of her features. 

Despite the prominence of her facial elements, they seemed perfectly orchestrated on her petite face. An intriguing contrast emerged—her large features coexisted with an innocent vibe that radiated from her. The delicate balance created a desire within Lysander to shield her from the world, an instinctual urge to protect someone so captivating and seemingly fragile.

Yet, the mesmerizing effect was quickly overshadowed by the tears streaming down her face and the palpable sadness etched across her expression. This unexpected sight left Lysander strangely uncomfortable, a sensation he rarely experienced, particularly when matters didn't directly concern his brothers. As he observed her distress, an unfamiliar emotion stirred within him—rage. The mere thought of this woman, so radiant and beautiful, being in tears fuelled an inexplicable anger within him. Confusion flickered through his mind at his thoughts but his attention shifted. 

A realization dawned on him—his brother, Zander, was the source of her tears. The turbulent emotions within Lysander now surged between concern for the woman and a brooding anger directed at his brother for causing her distress.

Lysander couldn't endure another moment witnessing the woman's distress. The sight of her tears, framed by her captivating features, tugged at a strange discomfort within him. Acting on an instinct he rarely acknowledged, he swiftly reached into the pocket of his impeccably tailored suit and retrieved a pristine napkin. He extended it towards her, his movements graceful yet deliberate, as if trying to erase the distress etched on her face.

The napkin was a small offering, a symbolic gesture to quell the emotional storm that brewed within her. Lysander's usually composed demeanour wavered slightly, betraying a vulnerability he seldom displayed. 

"Thank you," The woman whispered. 

Lysander was momentarily entranced by the soft cadence of Elowen's voice. It possessed a gentle timbre that seemed to wrap around his senses, drawing him into the subtle nuances of her words. Her voice, like a delicate melody, carried an innocence that resonated in the air—a quality so captivating that it held his attention, even in the midst of a tumultuous moment.

As she spoke, each word dripped with sincerity, like honey trickling from a spoon. There was an undeniable allure in the hushed tones that emanated from her, leaving Lysander completely hooked, wishing to hear more of it. 

His attention, however, shifted to Zander and the situation that had occurred before he walked into the room.

Lysander was rarely angered by his brothers. Typically, annoyance prevailed, never escalating into the realm of true anger. Yet, an unexplainable rage surged within him, directed squarely at Zander. Despite the intense emotions, he endeavored to maintain his composure, conscious of the woman standing beside him.

"What's going on here, Zander?" Lysander's voice, smooth but carrying an unmistakable warning, sliced through the charged atmosphere. His gaze bore into Zander, emphasizing the need for restraint. "We're trying to maintain a professional atmosphere, and I don't believe the entire floor needs to hear a public reprimand. Keep it down."

Surveying the chaos surrounding him, Lysander took note of the scattered pages and the file carelessly positioned near the wall behind him. A fleeting moment of confusion crossed his face, quickly replaced by a spark of realisation. The pieces fell into place, and with that understanding, his rage ignited.

I swear to fuck if Zander did what I think he did, I'm going to break his goddamn nose.

"Did you, in a fit of frustration, hurl this file at our intern?" Lysander questioned, his voice tinged with a threatening undertone, hung in the air. He took a measured step toward Zander, his controlled demeanour slipping away, revealing the simmering anger beneath.

From the corner of his eye, Lysander noticed the woman flinch, a palpable sense of panic flickering in her eyes as her gaze darted nervously between him and Zander. An inexplicable ache settled in his chest at the realisation that the woman was scared of him. 

Lysander wanted to hold her hands, and reassure her that she had no reason to be scared of him, ever.

Before he could act on that impulse, however, the woman swiftly moved towards the door, her steps hastening until she broke into a run, escaping the confines of the office. The echo of her hurried departure lingered in the room, leaving Lysander momentarily struck by the woman's exit. 

As the door softly shut, sealing off the fleeting presence of the woman, Lysander sensed an unexpected void in the room. The echoes of her departure lingered, leaving an emptiness that contrasted sharply with the turbulence that had just transpired. 

Zander's muttered curses barely registered in Lysander's distracted mind, consumed as he was by thoughts of the girl who had entered his world so abruptly. Unbeknownst to him, unlike the soft thud of the closing door, the profound impact the girl was destined to have on his life loomed immeasurably large. The currents of change had been set in motion, and Lysander found himself standing at the threshold of an unforeseen journey.