The deeper Frank sank into Waldman’s inner circle, the more the line between the law and the abyss began to blur. He found himself burying evidence to protect his cover and manipulating the system he had sworn to uphold.

One evening, Waldman invited him to a private dinner. The tycoon looked at Frank with eyes that had seen a thousand murders. "You're loyal, Frank. That's rare in our business."

Frank realized then that he wasn't just a lawyer anymore. He was a ghost in the machine, a man who had sacrificed his soul to destroy a monster. As he walked out into the cold Danish rain, the hardcoded reality of his life hit him: in this game, there were no acquittals—only survivors.

The case file in front of him wasn't just another billable hour; it was a map. Every witness statement and forensic report led back to Thomas Waldman. Waldman was the kingpin of the city’s underworld and the man Frank knew, with a bone-deep certainty, had ordered the hit twenty years ago.

"I value results," Frank replied, his heart hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird.

Frank didn't blink. "Circumstantial evidence is just a puzzle waiting for the right piece."