It’s never what it seems.

A murder of a high-profile law partner on a Manhattan street should have made the front page of the news. And yet it didn’t. Drew Bradley’s murder was treated as just another senseless crime and relegated to page four of the evening edition. But what if the press had been privy to the fact that the murder was actually an assassination?

As the partners at Lannister and Stewart scramble to fill the vacuum left by Drew Bradley’s sudden death, Asia Blythe, a rising star in the firm is offered his coveted position. But this golden opportunity that brings with it power, prestige, and unlimited financial rewards demands adherence to a code. A code of allegiance to the firm with no exceptions. Catapulted into the world of genetically modified designer babies and state-sponsored espionage, is Asia prepared to deal with the intrigues of a world that will threaten her life and shatter her illusions?

EXTRACT

At precisely 10:42 a.m. my inbox tinkled with a chime alerting me an email was waiting to be read. 

…URGENT. 

“Asia, do you have any idea what this is about?” I looked up and saw Sylvia, my administrative assistant, leaning against my doorjamb waving a sheet of paper.

“The email?” I asked. “I have no clue. Did you call Maggie and ask her?” 

“It went to her voicemail,” she said, stepping forward. “The last time we were all commanded to assemble was last year when old man Stewart died. He was like a hundred years old, so no major surprise. This better be worth the trip down, that’s all I’m saying.” 

“Well, he was a founding partner of the law firm. But I see your point,” I said and shrugged. 

“We better get a move on if we don’t want to get mashed in the elevators going down. Hopefully, no one is that curious and waits until the last minute,” she said. 

I watched Sylvia lock her bottom desk drawer, pull on the handle, and then we made our way to the elevators. After several cars filled with people bypassed us, we used our hands and forearms to push our way into the elevator and staked a claim.

By the time we made our way into the room with seconds to spare, it was standing room only. Some people milled around while others jockeyed for a spot in the back to make a quick getaway. Sylvia, who was a foot taller than me, spied a spot near the podium and we glided between the open spaces. Using her elbows as leverage, she claimed a place for us and we tucked in tightly between two other people. 

Suddenly the loud chatter in the room lowered as the tall, slender man whose very presence evoked respect, if not fear, strode past me to the small stage.

My eyes fixated on him as he lowered a single sheet of paper onto the slanted top of the lectern. Ian Lannister, the senior managing partner, then rested his long fingers along its lips. With that one fluid action, the room turned into a vacuum of silence. Ian Lannister's piercing blue-gray eyes scanned the room from corner to corner, making certain all focus was on him. Then he spoke. 

“This morning Drew Bradley was murdered,” he announced in a voice void of emotion.