Chapter 2 Burning Bridges

Jasmine Thompson stood in the quiet stillness of Gerald Marks' office, her hands folded neatly in her lap. The senior partner leaned back in his chair, his sharp gray eyes narrowing as he studied her. The weight of her decision hung heavy in the air, but her resolve didn't falter.

"You're really doing this?" Gerald asked, his tone tinged with disbelief. "Walking away from everything you've built here? You've worked too hard to throw this all away on... what, personal matters?"

Jasmine drew in a deep breath, forcing herself to meet his gaze. "It's not something I'm taking lightly, Gerald. I've thought this through. I need to step away."

His jaw tightened, his hands folding together on the polished oak desk. "You're one of the best associates we've had in years, Jasmine. The Mitchell acquisition is just the beginning of what you can accomplish here. Do you realize what you're giving up?"

"I do," she said, her voice calm but firm. "But this is something I have to do."

The truth of her words cut through her like a knife. For years, she had poured herself into her work, climbing the ranks with relentless determination. She had dreamed of becoming partner, of making her mark on the firm and the city's legal world.

But Miranda's death had changed everything.

The woman she had been two years ago was gone, replaced by someone who couldn't rest until the shadow hanging over her sister's murder was lifted. Working at the firm no longer felt like a calling. It felt like a distraction.

"This isn't just about work, Gerald," Jasmine continued, her voice softening. "It's about... closure. And I won't find it sitting in this office, reading through contracts and mergers."

Gerald exhaled deeply, shaking his head. "I won't pretend I understand, but I won't stand in your way. If you ever decide to come back, the door will be open. Just don't wait too long to realize what you're leaving behind."

She offered him a faint smile and rose from her seat. "Thank you, Gerald. For everything."

As she walked out of the office, a strange sense of freedom washed over her. The weight of her resignation settled on her shoulders, but so did a renewed sense of purpose.

She wasn't giving up. She was moving forward.

Jasmine's apartment had never felt emptier.

The man she had come to know only through fragments of evidence and a photograph burned into her memory.

Jasmine sat cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by the tools of her obsession. On the coffee table, her laptop displayed an article from an exclusive business journal, a feature piece on the Russwell family's tech empire. There was no name attached to the face in the photograph, but the connections were clear.

She had spent weeks digging, piecing together breadcrumbs of information. From charity galas to boardroom shakeups, she had learned all she could about the family-powerful, wealthy, and deeply private. But the name "Hayden Russwell" stood out among them, though she still wasn't certain if it truly belonged to the man from the photo.

Her initial plan to confront him head-on felt reckless now. If she wanted answers, she needed to play the long game by getting close to him.

But how?

Her fingers tapped idly on the edge of the coffee table as she considered her next move. Hayden Russwell wasn't just any man-he was a billionaire, insulated by layers of wealth, influence, and carefully curated circles. She couldn't just waltz into his life uninvited.

What she needed was a way in.

Leaning back against the couch, she let her mind wander, dissecting every angle. She would need to become someone he couldn't ignore. Someone with charm, intelligence, and enough intrigue to pique his interest.

But first, she needed to look the part.

Jasmine glanced down at her modest blouse and jeans, the attire of a woman who had spent her days chasing justice in a courtroom. That wouldn't work in Hayden's world. She needed to reinvent herself, to shed her old skin and step into the role of someone who could seamlessly blend into the Russwell orbit.

The first step was simple but daunting: research.

Pulling her laptop closer, Jasmine opened a new tab and began scouring articles, interviews, and social media posts. She looked for anything that could give her an edge-a favorite restaurant, a hobby, a charity he supported.

As the hours ticked by, a clearer picture of Hayden's life began to emerge. He was deeply involved in his family's tech empire but kept his personal life guarded. He wasn't a playboy like some of his peers; his public appearances were calculated, his reputation clean.

Hayden frequented high-profile networking events, but he also had a private routine-a favorite café in the city where he met with close colleagues, a fitness club where he worked out, and a penchant for disappearing into the countryside for weeks at a time.

Jasmine's fingers hovered over the keyboard, her thoughts racing. She could use this. She could position herself in places where their paths might cross naturally, making their eventual meeting feel like fate rather than a carefully orchestrated plan.

Reaching for her phone, she scrolled through her contacts until she found the number she needed. It belonged to Sophia Lane, an old friend from law school who had traded the courtroom for the world of luxury public relations.

Sophia knew everyone worth knowing in the city-and she had a talent for making introductions.

Jasmine hesitated, her thumb hovering over the call button. She hadn't spoken to Sophia in months, and the thought of using her connection left a sour taste in her mouth. But this wasn't about her pride. This was about Miranda.

With a deep breath, she pressed the button.

"Jasmine!" Sophia's voice was bright and chipper, as if no time had passed. "It's been forever. How are you?"

"I'm good," Jasmine lied, forcing a smile she hoped would carry through the phone. "Listen, I was wondering if you had time to grab coffee this week. There's something I'd love to pick your brain about."

"For you? Always. How about Friday at that little spot on Maple? Noon?"

"Perfect. Thanks, Sophia."

As she ended the call, Jasmine leaned back, her heart pounding. This was it. The first step in her plan.

But as she stared at the photograph of Hayden once more, a flicker of unease settled in her chest. She had quit her job, sacrificed her career, and now she was about to manipulate someone into helping her infiltrate a world she didn't belong to.

There was no turning back now.

With a quiet exhale, Jasmine tucked the photo into her journal and closed her laptop. The wheels were in motion, and every move from here on out had to be calculated and precise.

She didn't know what awaited her on the other side of this plan, but one thing was certain: she would find the truth about Miranda's death.

And if Hayden Russwell had anything to do with it, he would pay.