Chapter 6

Dean's heart sank. He knew that this was no longer just a personal attack—it was a direct threat to his entire career.

Linda continued, her tone somber yet resolute. "The stance from the higher-ups is clear: they’re unwilling to pay any compensation. That means if Leroy Tam insists on his demands, we could be facing an even bigger predicament."

Dean felt the weight of the situation press down on him. He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. He understood the gravity of being forced to resign—it would not only tarnish his reputation but could severely hinder his future career prospects in the legal world.

Linda noticed the worry in Dean’s eyes and, with a quiet determination, said, "I believe in you, Dean. I know you didn’t fabricate any evidence. You’re an honest and dedicated lawyer. Our task now is to find a way to prove that Leroy Tam's accusations are baseless."

Dean’s eyes briefly softened with gratitude. He quietly replied, "Thank you, Linda. I know you’ve done so much for me. I... I don’t know how to thank you."

His voice faltered for a moment, the weight of everything he’d been carrying surfacing all at once. Then, with a deep sigh, he made a decision. He was going to tell Linda everything. He’d held it back for so long, but now, he knew she needed to know the truth.

"Actually, there’s something else I haven’t told you," Dean began, his voice quiet, almost hesitant. "That day in the restroom... Leroy Tam made some inappropriate advances. He tried to assault me. Damon Greyson arrived just in time to intervene and get him out of there."

Linda’s face immediately hardened, her expression shifting from concern to outright anger. Her eyes reflected a mix of empathy and fury as she stood up and walked over to Dean. She embraced him warmly, holding him tightly as if offering a silent promise of protection. "You should’ve told me sooner," she murmured, her voice thick with emotion. "But I’m so glad you told me now."

The comfort of Linda’s embrace was brief but powerful, grounding Dean in the midst of his storm of emotions. As she pulled away, her expression was resolute. "Now, we have one goal—find the evidence that proves Leroy Tam is lying. If we can expose him for what he is, it will dismantle his malicious accusations."

Dean nodded slowly, a flicker of hope beginning to grow inside him. "Do you have any ideas on how we can do that?"

Linda considered the situation for a moment before speaking. "We need a witness who can confirm your innocence at that moment. Since Damon Greyson was there, he’s the most crucial witness. We need his testimony to prove that Leroy Tam’s accusations are completely false."

Dean felt a flash of nervousness cross his face. After all, Damon Greyson wasn’t just any ordinary man—he was a core figure in the criminal underworld. "Damon Greyson?" he asked, his voice uncertain.

Linda nodded slightly. "Yes. You need to meet with Damon Greyson."

Dean let out a long, resigned sigh, a swirl of mixed emotions tightening in his chest. The last time they met, he had made it clear to Damon that he had no interest in the mafia or their conflicts. Now, he found himself in a position where he had to ask for help from exactly the person he had tried to avoid. The absurdity of the situation struck him— ‘how had he ended up here?’ That nagging sense of reluctance, tinged with self-mockery, made him lower his gaze again, lost in thought.

He turned his gaze to the window, hoping the open sky could help him calm his mind. He tried to recall the complex situations Noah had faced in business, hoping that some of those experiences could offer him even a small insight. The image of tense negotiations, the subtle art of maneuvering and sparring, filled his mind. He sifted through each memory, searching for an example he could apply, but it all seemed fragmented, each thought like an out-of-place puzzle piece. Nothing fit together.

Minutes turned into what felt like hours as Dean's mind remained blank. He tried to make sense of the mess, but it was all in vain. His thoughts were a tangled mess, and it finally dawned on him—he had no experience with the underworld. His past business skills were completely useless in this situation. He lowered his head slightly, his fingers tapping nervously on the desk. His fatigue and helplessness were palpable.

With a deep, exhausted sigh, Dean reached for his phone. He knew that reaching out to Damon might yield a cold response, but there was no time to worry about that now. He found the contact information that Linda had prepared for him—a strange, glaring number. Damon Greyson’s number. He hesitated for a moment, his heart racing as his finger hovered over the screen. There was still a part of him resisting the idea of asking for help from someone like Damon. But, reluctantly, he pressed the dial button, holding the phone to his ear, waiting for the call to connect.

The phone rang, and once Damon picked up, Dean didn’t waste time. He dove straight into the request, asking Damon to meet him. To his surprise, Damon didn’t ask too many questions. He simply agreed to the meeting. The only thing Damon specified was that he would choose the location.

A short time later, Dean received a text from Damon with the details. Dean quickly searched the address, only to find that it was one of the most luxurious hotels in the city, specifically a high-end restaurant inside.

Dean stepped into the private room of the upscale restaurant, the opulence of the decor immediately catching his eye. Soft, elegant lighting bathed the space in a warm glow, and everything about the room exuded luxury and restraint. Damon Greyson was already seated at the table, looking as imposing as ever in his dark suit, his presence still commanding respect. Dean couldn’t help but feel a knot form in his stomach. The weight of the situation hung heavy on him, and he was unsure how to proceed.

"Thank you for meeting with me, Mr. Greyson," Dean said carefully, trying to keep his voice steady despite the nervousness swirling inside him.

Damon glanced up at him, his expression unreadable. His eyes, as always, were sharp and unyielding, exuding an air of cold authority. He gave a small nod, gesturing for Dean to sit.

Dean took a deep breath, settling into the chair. "I’m here because I need your help," he began, gathering his thoughts before speaking. "That day in the restroom, you witnessed what Leroy Tam did to me. I need you to testify, to confirm that his accusations against me are false."

Damon leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. His gaze was both distant and calculating, and for a long moment, he said nothing. The silence was thick, and Dean could feel his anxiety mounting as Damon’s piercing eyes seemed to dissect every part of him.

Dean shifted in his seat, the pressure mounting. He couldn’t afford to back down. "Please," he continued, his voice tinged with urgency, "this is the only way to prove my innocence."

At last, Damon spoke, his voice low and deliberate. "Do you think I would care about something like this?" His tone was flat, the question seemingly laced with challenge.

Dean’s heart sank a little, the disappointment flickering in his chest. But he kept his gaze steady, unwilling to let his emotions show. "I understand that this might not be of any consequence to you," he replied, his voice firmer now, "but to me, this is everything. My career, my reputation, it all depends on clearing my name."

Damon let out a soft sigh and casually retrieved a contract from his briefcase, sliding it across the table toward Dean. "Since you mentioned your career, perhaps we should discuss this."

Dean stared at the contract, momentarily stunned. A sense of confusion washed over him as he picked it up and scanned its contents. It was a consultancy contract for the Dragon Gang.

"Are you serious?" Dean's voice tightened with frustration as he looked up from the document. "What I need right now is your testimony, not a job offer."

Damon gave a lazy smile, leaning back into his chair with a glass of wine in hand. His eyes lazily passed over Dean, the smile still lingering on his lips. He glanced at the document, then slowly met Dean's eyes. "Even if I clear things up for you, do you really think Leroy Tam will just let you go?" His tone was calm and almost indifferent, as if he were merely making polite conversation, not discussing the life-altering dilemma before them.

Dean hesitated, taken aback by the question. He pressed his lips together, his thoughts racing, but his resolve remained unshaken. "I believe in justice," he replied, his voice firm, eyes determined—almost as though he were reassuring himself. Despite his deep disdain for the criminal underworld, he still believed there was a way to clear his name without compromising his values.

Damon’s eyes lit up with a hint of amusement at Dean’s response, a knowing smirk curling at the corners of his mouth. "Didn't you say you didn’t like the mafia?" His voice dropped a little, now laced with sarcasm. "So, you're willing to trust the 'justice' the mafia brings you?" His words were sharp, probing, like a thorn meant to uncover the internal conflict Dean was trying to suppress. The mockery in his tone was unmistakable, yet there was an undeniable truth in his observation.

Dean was caught off guard by Damon’s question. He swallowed hard, struggling to find his voice. His hatred for the mafia had always been absolute, but now he found himself forced into a corner, relying on Damon for help. The contradiction stung. But despite the guilt and reluctance, he knew there was no other way. He couldn’t allow Leroy Tam to win. His reputation, his career—everything was on the line. He steeled himself and, with a clenched jaw, shot back, "Are you going to help or not?"