Chapter 3 — Coffee Forecast
If Pearson Hardman West felt like a cathedral of ambition, Charlie Harper's beach house felt like the afterparty nobody cleaned up from.
Hayden came home that evening to find Charlie doing what Charlie did best—ruining something expensive with confidence.
Charlie was at the piano, half-playing, half-humming, mostly flirting with his own reflection in the glass doors. A blonde Hayden didn't recognize lounged on the couch like she'd been delivered by an app.
Alan was in the kitchen, hunched over a calculator like it was a holy text, whispering numbers under his breath as if they might show mercy.
Jake sat on the floor eating chips straight from the bag, watching TV at a volume that suggested he was trying to summon demons.
Hayden stopped in the doorway, took in the chaos, and said the only honest thing:
"I've been at a law firm all day and somehow this still feels more predatory."
Charlie looked up, grinned. "Hey! The suit survived. That means you didn't get mugged by lawyers."
Hayden loosened his tie. "Not yet."
Alan perked up like a stressed meerkat. "Wait—did you get hired?"
Hayden walked to the counter, set his portfolio down with the care of someone who respected paper more than people.
"Yes," he said.
Alan froze. "Where?"
Hayden didn't play games with this one. "Pearson Hardman West."
Charlie whistled. "Wow. Look at you. Corporate overlord at twenty."
The blonde on the couch leaned forward. "Who's he?"
Charlie waved a hand. "My brother. He's like me, but… with discipline and an ability to feel shame."
Hayden's eyes flicked to her. "Hi."
She blinked, then smiled. "Hi."
Charlie smirked. "Don't flirt with him. It's illegal. He's a lawyer."
Hayden walked past them to the fridge. "Charlie, your definition of illegal is 'anything with consequences.'"
Charlie laughed. "Correct."
Alan moved closer, hopeful and desperate. "Okay—okay—this is good. This is great. So you can help me with Judith, right? Because her lawyer—"
Hayden held up a hand.
Alan stopped mid-sentence like he'd been remotely deactivated.
Hayden pulled out his phone, tapped twice, and slid it across the counter.
Alan stared at the screen.
A drafted email. Clean. Calm. Surgical.
Subject: Re: Proposed Modification of Support Terms
Alan read the first paragraph, then looked up like he'd just seen sunlight for the first time in years.
"This is… really good," Alan whispered.
Charlie leaned in, pretending to read. "It's so boring. I'm proud."
Hayden took the phone back. "You're sending it exactly like that. No changes. No emotional add-ons. No 'PS I'm a good father.'"
Alan nodded vigorously. "Okay."
Jake looked up from the chips. "Is this the part where Mom gets mad?"
Hayden glanced at him. "Yes."
Jake nodded like that was satisfying. "Good."
Alan hesitated. "What if she ignores it?"
Hayden's eyes sharpened. "Then she overplays."
Charlie raised his beer. "I love when people overplay. It's like watching a drunk guy try to fight a mailbox."
Hayden gave Charlie a quick look. "You've fought a mailbox."
Charlie shrugged. "The mailbox started it."
The blonde giggled. Alan didn't.
Hayden set his portfolio down and looked at Alan, tone shifting from brotherly to professional.
"Tomorrow," Hayden said, "we meet Judith's lawyer in person."
Alan's face drained. "In person?"
"Yes," Hayden said. "Coffee shop. Public. Neutral. Controlled."
Charlie immediately perked up. "Ooh. Can I come?"
Hayden didn't even look at him this time. "No."
Charlie's jaw dropped. "What is this oppression? I live here!"
Hayden turned. "And that's exactly why you're not coming."
Charlie gestured wildly. "I'm great in negotiations. I'm charming. I'm persuasive. I once convinced a woman I was emotionally available."
Hayden's mouth twitched. "That's not persuasion. That's fraud."
Charlie looked offended. "Hey, I'm an artist."
Alan rubbed his face. "I don't want to meet her lawyer."
Hayden's tone stayed calm. "You do. Because he'll be watching you. And if he thinks you're weak, he'll push. If he thinks you're controlled, he'll settle."
Jake raised a hand like he was in class. "What if he thinks Alan is a sad guy who cries in the shower?"
Alan's head snapped around. "Jake!"
Jake shrugged. "You do."
Hayden didn't react. He just looked at Alan. "Then you stop doing that."
Alan's eyes narrowed. "I can't just—"
"Yes, you can," Hayden said, voice even. "You can do anything for fifteen minutes. Tomorrow, you just have to be calm for fifteen minutes."
Alan swallowed hard. "Okay."
Charlie raised his beer again. "Look at Hayden. Turning Alan into a man. I hate it."
Hayden ignored him, grabbed a pen, and wrote something on the back of an envelope.
He slid it to Alan.
Alan read it. "What's this?"
Hayden didn't blink.
"Your script," he said. "You say exactly three things tomorrow:
1. 'I'd like this handled through counsel.'
2. 'I'm open to reasonable terms.'
3. 'Please address Mr. Harper.'"
Alan stared. "That's it?"
"That's it," Hayden said. "You're not there to win. You're there to not lose."
Charlie leaned back, impressed despite himself. "Damn. That's… actually smart."
Hayden's eyes cut to Charlie.
"You want smart?" Hayden said. "Stop letting random women use your house like a hotel and then acting surprised when your life feels hollow."
The blonde on the couch sat up. "Excuse me?"
Charlie coughed. "Okay, maybe don't go full Judge Judy, kid."
Hayden shrugged, unapologetic. "He asked for smart."
Charlie smirked at the blonde. "He's not wrong, though."
She rolled her eyes and stood. "I'm going to leave before the baby lawyer starts billing me by the hour."
Hayden nodded politely. "Good call."
She left. Charlie watched her go, then pointed at Hayden. "You just cost me sex."
Hayden's expression stayed calm. "You'll recover. It's a short drive to any bar in Los Angeles."
Charlie stared. "You're evil."
Hayden's eyes softened a fraction. "I'm efficient."
Alan let out a long breath, staring at the "script" like it was his last lifeline.
"Okay," Alan said quietly. "Coffee shop tomorrow."
Hayden nodded. "Good."
Then his phone buzzed.
A new calendar invite.
Donna Paulsen — Orientation / Case assignment. 8:00 AM.
Hayden didn't sigh. He didn't complain. But his mind shifted gears.
Firm first. Family second. Always.
He looked at Alan. "Send the email tonight. Don't answer Judith's calls. Not once."
Alan nodded like he was taking orders in battle. "Okay."
Jake returned to his chips. "Can we get pizza?"
Charlie raised his hand. "Seconded."
Hayden glanced at Jake. "Not if you keep eating chips like they're a food group."
Jake grinned. "They are."
Hayden shook his head once—subtle amusement—and picked up his portfolio.
"Tomorrow," he said, already moving toward the hallway, "we do this the right way."
And for the first time since moving into Charlie's house, Alan Harper felt something close to stability.
It was temporary.
But in the Harper family, temporary stability counted as a miracle.
The next morning, Hayden Harper walked into Pearson Hardman West at 7:58 AM.
Not because he cared about being early.
Because he cared about what being early said.
The lobby was already awake—lawyers moving like suits with opinions, assistants carrying coffee like it was an organ donation. Everything gleamed. Everything smelled like money trying to look tasteful.
Donna Paulsen intercepted him before he even reached reception, as if punctuality had summoned her.
"Hayden Harper," she said, eyes bright, smile sharp. "You made it."
"I can read," Hayden replied.
Donna's grin widened. "Good. You'll need it. Come on—orientation. And before you ask, no, it doesn't involve a scavenger hunt or trust falls."
They walked. Donna didn't stride—she commanded hallways. People moved out of her way like she had right-of-way written into the building code.
"You're under Jessica," Donna said, flipping through a slim folder. "Which means you're not here to 'learn the ropes.' You're here to not set them on fire."
Hayden kept his tone calm. "I prefer controlled burns."
Donna stopped walking mid-step and looked at him like she'd just been handed a new toy.
"Oh," she said. "You're going to be fun."
"That's not a compliment," Hayden said.
Donna resumed walking. "In this building? It absolutely is."
They rounded a corner and almost collided with Louis Litt.
Louis looked like a man who'd ironed his personality. Crisp suit, sharp jaw, eyes that constantly scanned for disrespect.
His gaze landed on Hayden and did the immediate inventory thing: young, confident, expensive haircut, no visible fear.
Louis smiled like a judge about to deny bail.
"And you must be the child prodigy," Louis said. "Harvard at twenty. Perfect bar score. Photographic memory."
Hayden met his eyes politely. "And you must be Louis Litt."
Louis's smile tightened. "Yes, I am."
Hayden's tone stayed pleasant. "Donna didn't introduce you. I recognized your posture."
Louis blinked. "My posture."
Hayden nodded once. "People who need control stand like they're bracing for betrayal."
Donna made a sound that was halfway between a cough and a laugh.
Louis's eyes narrowed. "That's cute."
"It's accurate," Hayden replied, still calm.
Louis stepped closer, voice lowering. "Let me give you some advice, Hayden Harper. This place eats cocky kids for breakfast."
Hayden didn't flinch. "I don't eat breakfast."
Donna fully laughed now. Louis shot her a look like she'd committed a crime.
Donna waved him off. "Relax, Louis. Jessica hired him. Which means he's either brilliant… or about to learn a very expensive lesson."
Louis stared at Hayden a beat longer, then smiled again—this time without warmth.
"Welcome," he said, and walked off like he'd just scheduled a future problem.
Donna watched him go and leaned in slightly. "That was Louis being friendly."
Hayden blinked once. "Terrifying."
Donna nodded. "You'll fit in."
---
Donna's "orientation" was less "welcome aboard" and more "here's how to avoid getting murdered professionally."
She walked him past conference rooms, partner offices, the bullpen, and a whiteboard that had so many deadlines written on it it looked like someone was planning a war.
At the end, she dropped a folder onto Hayden's desk.
"Your first assignment," Donna said.
Hayden opened it.
A stack of documents, a case summary, and a short sticky note in Donna's tidy handwriting:
Jessica wants a strategy memo by 2 PM. No drama.
Hayden's eyebrows lifted. "No drama."
Donna smiled sweetly. "That's what she wrote."
Hayden looked up. "Does she know where she works?"
Donna's smile sharpened. "Yes. Which is why she specified."
Hayden nodded, already scanning the documents. Corporate dispute. Mid-tier client. Some nuisance litigation designed to force a settlement.
It wasn't thrilling.
But it was structure. It was foundation.
He started working.
Thirty minutes in, he could feel the building move—subtle shifts, whispers, assistants walking a touch faster. Like a current changing direction.
Donna's voice drifted from the hallway, light but firm.
"Harvey, you're late."
Harvey Specter's voice came back like velvet wrapped around steel.
"I'm not late. Everyone else is early."
Hayden didn't look up.
He didn't need to.
He could hear the confidence.
Then another voice—faster, younger.
"Donna, I told you I'm fine—"
Harvey cut in, quieter. "Mike."
Hayden's pen paused for a fraction of a second.
So Mike Ross was here. Not just "in the building." On the inside now.
Hayden forced his attention back to the memo.
Win first. Observe second.
That was the difference between smart and reckless. The old Hayden might've chased the shiny mystery. The new Hayden filed it away.
At 1:47 PM, he printed his memo. Clean. No theatrics. Just leverage points, risk exposure, optics control, settlement posture.
Donna picked it up, scanned it, and gave him a nod that meant: you're not useless.
"That'll do," she said.
Hayden stood. "That's a low bar."
Donna walked away. "Welcome to law."
---
By 4:00 PM, Hayden was back in the real world—outside of glass towers and billable hours—sitting in a coffee shop that smelled like espresso and choices.
He picked this place on purpose.
Neutral ground.
Public.
No home-field advantage for anyone.
Alan sat across from him, rigid in the chair like he was waiting for an execution. He wore a button-down he'd probably ironed twice out of fear.
Alan stared at the menu like it contained a hidden trap.
"This is a bad idea," Alan whispered.
Hayden didn't look up from the papers. "It's a controlled idea."
Alan's hands twitched. "Judith's lawyer is going to destroy me."
Hayden slid Alan's script across the table again, like a life raft.
"You say three things," Hayden said. "Nothing else."
Alan swallowed. "Okay."
Hayden's eyes flicked once to the window.
And of course.
Across the street, leaning against his car like he was posing for a midlife crisis calendar, Charlie Harper was watching the coffee shop with sunglasses on, arms crossed, grin smug.
Alan saw him too and his face went pale. "He's here."
Hayden didn't move. "Yes."
"I thought you said he wasn't coming."
"I said he wasn't coming in," Hayden corrected. "I didn't say he was capable of listening."
Alan looked like he might pass out.
Hayden's phone buzzed.
A text from Charlie.
CHARLIE: I'm outside for moral support. Also if Judith shows up I'm going to flirt with her out of spite.
Hayden typed back without looking up.
HAYDEN: Move your car or I'll have it towed.
Two seconds later:
CHARLIE: You wouldn't.
Hayden didn't reply. He didn't need to.
He could feel Charlie reconsidering reality from across the street.
The coffee shop door opened.
And the air changed.
Judith did not walk in. Judith never walked in herself if she could send someone else to do the stabbing.
Her lawyer did.
Mid-forties. Crisp suit. Hair too perfect. Smile too practiced. The kind of man who charged by the hour and believed emotional damage was a bonus feature.
He spotted Alan immediately—because Alan looked like a walking settlement.
He approached with a warm smile and extended his hand.
"Alan Harper," he said. "I'm Gerald—Judith's counsel."
Alan started to stand, started to speak—
Hayden lifted one finger gently.
Alan froze.
Hayden stood instead, shook Gerald's hand once, firm and calm.
"Hayden Harper," Hayden said. "Alan's counsel."
Gerald blinked. His eyes flicked over Hayden—young, too composed, too comfortable.
"Counsel," Gerald repeated, as if testing the word. "You're… family?"
Hayden smiled politely. "Yes."
Gerald sat, still smiling, but his posture tightened.
"Well," Gerald said, "Judith is eager to resolve this quickly. She's offered a very fair modification."
Hayden nodded as if he believed that sentence had ever been true in human history.
"Fair," Hayden repeated. "Interesting."
Alan stared at his coffee like it might rescue him.
Gerald slid a document across the table.
"All we need is Alan's signature," Gerald said pleasantly. "And we can avoid unnecessary stress."
Hayden didn't touch the paper.
He looked at Gerald and spoke calmly, like he was explaining gravity.
"You're here because Judith thinks Alan will panic," Hayden said. "You're also here because you're hoping my presence will intimidate him into signing anyway."
Gerald's smile stayed fixed. "Not at all."
Hayden nodded. "Of course."
Alan opened his mouth.
Hayden's hand moved—barely—an invisible signal.
Alan remembered his script like it was the last line of a play.
"I'd like this handled through counsel," Alan said.
Gerald blinked again, surprised Alan had words.
Hayden slid his own paper across the table—one page, clean, typed, no drama.
Gerald glanced down.
"Structured alternative," Hayden said. "Keeps support stable, clarifies income definitions, avoids penalty traps, and includes a yearly neutral review so Judith can feel protected."
Gerald's eyes skimmed fast. His expression didn't change, but Hayden could see the micro-tension at the corners.
Because Gerald understood immediately:
This wasn't a desperate man.
This was a plan.
Gerald looked up, smile thinner. "This isn't what Judith proposed."
Hayden nodded. "Correct."
Alan's hands trembled under the table. Hayden didn't look at them. He didn't need to. He kept the room steady.
Gerald tried the next move—pressure.
"Alan," Gerald said, turning to him warmly, "Judith is being generous. If you refuse, she may pursue adjustment through the court."
Alan's throat bobbed.
He remembered his second line.
"I'm open to reasonable terms," Alan said, voice shaky but intact.
Hayden finally tapped the paper—just once.
"This is reasonable," Hayden said. "If Judith wants court, that's her choice. But the judge will see her attempting to expand income definitions without cause. He'll see penalty language designed to punish, not protect. And he'll see you attempted a fair resolution."
Gerald stared at him. "You're very confident."
Hayden's smile was faint. "I'm very prepared."
Gerald leaned back, recalculating.
He tried a softer angle. "You're young, Mr. Harper. You don't need to make this personal."
Hayden's gaze didn't move. "It's not personal. It's math."
Gerald's smile finally cracked, just slightly. "Judith has… concerns about Alan's reliability."
Hayden nodded as if that was expected. "Then she should like this. It removes uncertainty."
Gerald glanced toward Alan again, searching for weakness.
Alan was sweating. Alan was terrified.
But Alan was also quiet.
Controlled.
Fifteen minutes, like Hayden promised.
Gerald sat in the discomfort for a moment longer, then gathered the papers slowly, like he was trying to regain control by moving objects.
"I'll present this to my client," Gerald said.
Hayden nodded. "Please do."
Gerald stood, smile returning as a mask. "You've made this… more complicated."
Hayden's voice stayed even. "That's what happens when people stop panicking."
Gerald left.
The second the door closed behind him, Alan exhaled like his lungs had been held hostage.
"Oh my God," Alan whispered. "Oh my God, I didn't die."
Hayden sat back down calmly. "Correct. You didn't die."
Alan stared at him. "That was insane."
"That was controlled," Hayden corrected.
Alan's eyes were wide with awe and relief. "You sounded like—like you do this all the time."
Hayden's gaze flicked to the window again.
Charlie was still outside, watching, hands on his hips like he was supervising.
Hayden texted him:
HAYDEN: Go home.
Charlie texted back instantly:
CHARLIE: Did we win?
Hayden typed:
HAYDEN: We didn't lose.
Charlie replied:
CHARLIE: That's basically a win in this family.
Hayden almost smiled.
Almost.
Alan leaned forward, lower voice. "So… what now?"
Hayden gathered the papers neatly.
"Now," he said, "we wait. If Judith refuses, she looks unreasonable. If she accepts, you stabilize. Either way, you stop bleeding."
Alan blinked. "You make it sound simple."
Hayden's eyes hardened slightly—not cruel, just honest.
"It's simple," he said. "It's not easy. Easy would've been signing and hoping she'd stop."
Alan swallowed. "She would've… kept going."
Hayden nodded once. "Yes."
Alan sat back, staring at Hayden like he'd just met an alternate timeline where Harper men were competent.
"I can't believe you're my brother," Alan said quietly.
Hayden looked at him, tone softer now.
"Believe it," he said. "And learn from it."
Outside, Charlie lifted a hand in a little victory wave like an idiot king.
Hayden ignored him—mostly.
As they stood to leave, Hayden's phone buzzed again.
A message from Donna.
DONNA: Jessica liked your memo. You start on a live matter tomorrow. Don't get bored.
Hayden stared at it a beat.
His boredom hadn't been the problem today.
His boredom had been the temptation.
And standing in that coffee shop, watching Alan survive because Hayden chose control over thrill, Hayden felt something shift—quietly, permanently.
Reputation wasn't built on wins.
It was built on how you won.
He slid his phone back into his pocket and looked at Alan.
"Let's go," Hayden said.
Alan nodded, almost smiling for the first time in years. "Okay."
They walked out into the LA sun.
And for once, the Harper family chaos stayed behind them—contained, controlled… and billed to the correct party.