Chapter 5 Love Really Can Disappear

Serena Sinclair's POV:

Manhattan's skyline glittered with golden light in the sunset as I stood before Kingsley & Associates' headquarters, taking a deep breath. This black glass-walled skyscraper represented the power center of Manhattan's legal world, and had been my dream workplace when I graduated seven years ago.

Now, I was no longer that hopeful Yale Law School top graduate, but a woman with no practical experience after four years of divorce. I adjusted the collar of my navy blue suit, ensuring every detail was impeccable. First impressions were crucial, especially when I needed to prove my professional value.

"Ms. Sinclair?" the receptionist looked up with a smile after verifying my identity. "Mr. Kingston is waiting for you."

Each second of the elevator's ascent accelerated my heartbeat. Every law student knew Phillip's name. The founder of Kingsley & Associates, Yale Law School's youngest guest professor, who had handled three landmark cases documented in textbooks before turning forty.

What confused me more, however, was his presence at my case hearing. At that time, I didn't know Professor Steven would recommend me to work at Kingsley, and Phillip wasn't someone who would appear in random case hearings without reason. Why was he there? This question lingered in my mind.

When the elevator doors opened, I walked down the dark marble-floored corridor leading directly to Kingsley & Associates' core area. My high heels made crisp sounds against the marble floor, reminding me that each step I took now could change my future.

Phillip's office was on the highest floor of the building, with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking all of Manhattan. When I entered his office, he was standing by the window, his silhouette forming a dark outline.

Hearing my footsteps, he turned around. That face, which had appeared countless times on legal magazine covers, was now before me—well-defined features, ice-blue eyes, and the calm demeanor that only truly successful people possessed.

"Ms. Sinclair," he extended his hand, his voice deep and powerful, "Professor Steven recommended you to me."

I noticed he didn't mention seeing me in court. Had he forgotten, or did he think it wasn't worth mentioning? Or was there another reason?

"Thank you for taking the time to see me, Mr. Kingston." I maintained a professional tone, not wanting to appear overly curious or presumptuous. Our hands briefly clasped; his palm was warm and strong.

"Please, sit." He gestured toward the conference area near the window, rather than the position in front of his desk. This small detail made the atmosphere less like a formal interview, but I knew the assessment had already begun.

After we sat down, Phillip didn't rush to speak, but spent a few seconds looking at me, as if confirming something. This scrutiny was uncomfortable, but I maintained a calm expression, looking straight ahead.

"You haven't practiced law for four years," he finally began, getting straight to the point. "Why do you want to return now?"

I could have given a prepared answer—standard rhetoric about professional passion and career growth. But facing someone like Phillip, such an answer would seem hollow. I chose honesty.

"Because I finally realized that giving up my career to support someone else was a mistake," I looked directly into his eyes, "especially when that person ultimately betrayed my trust."

His expression softened for a moment, a flicker of emotion I couldn't interpret passing through his eyes. "Some choices, even if they seem wrong, may be necessary life experiences," he said, with an almost personal understanding in his tone. "What matters is that you're back now."

This wasn't the response I expected. There was something in his tone that was almost... comforting? For a stranger applying for a job, this seemed too personal.

Phillip took a folder from the desk, extracting a case summary and pushing it toward me. "Martin v. Glover Family Trust, regarding the applicability of prenuptial agreements to trust assets. If you were representing Mrs. Martin, what strategy would you adopt?"

This wasn't just a test, but an opportunity to prove myself—to prove that my legal thinking hadn't dulled after four years as a housewife.

I spent a few minutes reviewing the materials, then began my analysis. It felt like opening a long-sealed door, but my legal thinking, like a muscle awakened after years of dormancy, regained its strength surprisingly quickly. I proposed three possible points of attack and two potential settlement approaches, while citing two recent relevant precedents.

Halfway through, I noticed Phillip had put down his pen and was completely focused on me. That gaze almost made me lose my train of thought, but I controlled my unease and continued my analysis.

When I finished, he was silent for a moment. The only sounds in the office were the ticking of the clock and the distant bustle of the city.

"You know," he finally said, "it took our team three days to develop a similar analytical approach."

"Law school training is thorough," I replied, trying not to let my pride show too obviously, "plus Professor Steven's guidance."

"This isn't just training, Ms. Sinclair. This is talent." Phillip's assessment surprised me. "Professor Steven certainly didn't exaggerate."

Hearing this evaluation, I felt a long-lost sense of confidence and professional dignity return. Perhaps these four years hadn't completely destroyed my professional abilities. Perhaps I really could start over.

"Kingsley has an assistant attorney position," he continued, flipping through the documents on his desk, "two-year probationary period, starting from the basics. The salary will reflect your experience level—or rather, lack of experience."

"I understand," I nodded, knowing this was the best possible outcome.

"The legal world won't forgive your gap period out of sympathy, Ms. Sinclair," his voice was calm but powerful. "You'll find many people questioning your abilities and qualifications. Especially in a top-tier firm like Kingsley."

I looked up, meeting his eyes directly. "I don't need anyone's sympathy, Mr. Kingston. I just need an opportunity to prove my abilities."

He nodded slightly, seemingly satisfied with my answer. "Starting Monday. My assistant will send you the necessary documents. You'll be assigned to the family law department, where there are several cases suitable for junior attorneys."

As I stood to leave, a question still lingered in my mind. Before my rationality could stop me, the words escaped: "Why were you present at my case hearing?"

Phillip's movement paused for a moment, his expression inscrutable. "The legal world is small, Ms. Sinclair. I often follow interesting cases." His eyes calmly met mine. "Especially when they involve students recommended by Professor Steven."

His answer sounded reasonable, but not entirely convincing. Whatever his reason, what mattered now was that I had a chance to start over.

"See you Monday, Mr. Kingston," I said, shaking the hand he extended.

Leaving the office, I noticed the scrutinizing gaze of a female attorney in the hallway and the whispers among several colleagues. That look, mixing curiosity with criticism, was familiar—I had often felt it at Yale Law School, as one of the few female students.

I walked past them with my head held high, smiling and nodding in acknowledgment. I knew what this meant—many challenges awaited me on the road back to the legal world. But this time, I wouldn't let anyone or anything stop me from pursuing my professional path.