AN- First of all, thank you so much for the people who have reviewed and are happy that this story is back, honestly I wasn't sure if people were reading it (: But let me know your thoughts, I would love to hear them. I actually wanted to make this chapter longer, but it was already getting longer then I wanted and as I'm going on holiday soon I'm not sure when my next post will be, so I have split this in half for you guys so you have something new at least. ( side note I have no clue about law firms / record labels, so if there are any errors in that , my apologies.

Enjoy reading.

Chapter 13

The hustle and bustle of New York City surrounded Four as he navigated through the crowded streets. The towering skyscrapers, honking horns, and constant movement were overwhelming. The city's nonstop energy felt like a weight pressing down on him, reminding him why he had left New York in the first place. Moving to a quieter city like Chicago had been the right decision. Here, every step felt like being on stage, with the ever-watchful eyes of the paparazzi and the curious glances of passersby always seeking a glimpse of a celebrity.

In the backseat of the taxi, Four's phone pinged with a notification. A smile crept onto his face as he read the text from Tris. Ever since the incident with Peter two weeks ago, they had grown closer, falling into a comforting, unspoken routine. Each morning, from Monday to Saturday, they went for runs together. Tris had become much better at self-defense, and Four was amazed at how strong and skilled she had become. He remembered their first sessions, where she struggled to throw a proper punch. With the progress she was making, he knew that it was only a matter of time when she would be able to take down an opponent twice her size with confidence and precision. He was sure that if Peter ever tried to hurt Tris again, he wouldn't stand a chance. Tris could take care of herself, and knowing that filled Four with pride.

Most evenings, they shared dinner. If they had other plans, they would let each other know, but otherwise, it was a given they'd spend their leisure time together. Their activities weren't extravagant—playing board games, watching Disney and horror movies after Ella had gone to sleep, falling asleep on the couch together, going for walks with Bailey. Ella had grown fond of Tris, too, loving how she braided her hair and cooked meals far yummier than her father's. Four laughed at the memory of their first encounter and how much had changed since then. Above all, he could be himself with her. He adored their time together, and his trip to New York couldn't have come at a better time, as Tris had been out of the city for the past four days, She had been away, tending to her grandmother who had broken a hip. Her absence left a void he hadn't expected.

Memories of their routine—cooking dinner together, taking Ella for a stroll, reading bedtime stories, and simply relaxing on the couch—played like a reel in Four's mind. The city's noise couldn't drown out the echoes of laughter, the simple joy of their conversations, and the warmth of their time together.

As the taxi weaved through the city, the scents of their shared meals, the sound of Ella's giggles, and the comforting touch of Tris's hand lingered in Four's thoughts. Amidst the urban chaos, these memories became stronger, making the absence of those moments all the more noticeable. New York, usually a place where one could blend into the background, now felt like a stage where every move was under scrutiny.

Approaching the lawyer's office, Four felt the weight of the challenges ahead. This wasn't just about breaking free from a suffocating record label; it was about reclaiming his artistic freedom and securing his future on his terms. Determined to navigate these issues, Four stepped into the legal negotiations in the heart of New York City. Amidst the towering skyscrapers, his thoughts lingered on the sense of peace he had found in Chicago.

The lawyer's office was a clean space with polished furniture and a skyline view. It became the arena for Four's fight for artistic freedom. The lawyer, a seasoned ally named Mr. Reynolds, discussed potential ways to break free from the contract's constraints. The conversation dug into the details of music industry deals, loopholes that could be exploited, and the delicate dance of negotiations.

Four had brought over all of his contracts, a thick stack of papers, and spread them out on the table. He leaned forward, absorbing every detail, determined to understand the path that would lead to his creative freedom. Mr. Reynolds, a strategic partner in this venture, shared insights, offering not just legal expertise but also a sense of teamwork in the pursuit of artistic liberation.

The morning sun bathed the city in a warm glow as Four stepped into the sleek office building housing his lawyer's firm. The air buzzed with anticipation, and the receptionist acknowledged him with a professional smile, directing him to the meeting room.

Seated in a plush chair at the end of an expansive conference table, Four faced Mr. Reynolds. The room exuded an air of professionalism, adorned with framed awards and legal books that testified to Mr. Reynolds' expertise. "Four, I've been going through the contract thoroughly," Mr. Reynolds began, his fingers steepled as he looked over his glasses. "Breaking away won't be easy, but it's not impossible."

As the discussion unfolded, legal jargon filled the room, each clause and condition a potential roadblock in Four's pursuit of artistic freedom. Mr. Reynolds, a seasoned guide in the maze of the music industry, outlined the potential challenges and pitfalls.

"These contracts are designed to be rock solid," Mr. Reynolds continued, "but every contract has its weak points. We need to find those and use them to your advantage."

Four's mind raced with strategies. "I need out, Reynolds. I can't create the music I want under their control," he asserted, determination burning in his eyes. "They're forcing me to be more active on social media, attend endless interviews, and go on more tours. I never agreed to any of that."

Mr. Reynolds nodded, understanding the gravity of the situation. "It won't happen overnight. We'll need to strategize, negotiate, maybe even play a bit of hardball."

The weight of the industry's expectations and the sacrifices for his art pressed down on Four's shoulders. He leaned forward, hands gripping the edge of the table. "I can't keep compromising. I need to be free."

Mr. Reynolds sighed, acknowledging the artist's struggle. "Freedom comes at a cost, Four. But we'll navigate this together."

Mr. Reynolds pulled out a thick stack of documents, spreading them across the table. "I've highlighted some potential loopholes here. These clauses about promotional commitments and album delivery deadlines—they can be leveraged."

Four leaned in, scrutinizing the papers. "So, we push back on their demands, argue that they've failed to promote my last album properly?"

"Exactly," Mr. Reynolds affirmed. "We build a case showing they've broken their end of the contract first. It'll weaken their position."

"But what if they counter with their usual tactics? They have a team of high-powered lawyers," Four said, the doubt creeping into his voice.

"We'll be prepared for that," Mr. Reynolds assured him. "We can also go public if necessary. Record labels hate bad press. It's a risky move, but it could force their hand."

The conversation dug into the details of the contract, the clauses that bound Four to the label. As the minutes ticked by, the challenge became clear—a daunting journey through legal mazes.

"And there's the option of a buyout," Mr. Reynolds added. "It's expensive, but it's a clean break."

Four shook his head. "I don't want to give them another dime. They've made enough off of me."

Mr. Reynolds nodded. "Understood. We'll stick to our strategy. There's also the matter of the increased demands they're making on you—more social media presence, more interviews, more tours. If we can show that these demands are beyond what you initially agreed to, it could add more pressure on them to negotiate."

Four's expression hardened. "I don't want to be their puppet. I need to be able to focus on my music, not be dragged around the world on their schedule."

Mr. Reynolds smiled, appreciating Four's resolve. "I figured as much. We'll stick to our strategy. If we play this right, they'll want to settle just to avoid the hassle."

Four exhaled, feeling a mixture of relief and anticipation. "We need to move fast. I want to be done with the label and start living my own life."

Mr. Reynolds offered a reassuring smile. "We have a plan. It won't be easy, but it's possible."

The bustling streets of New York, now a backdrop to his determined mission, seemed slightly less intimidating as Four absorbed Mr. Reynolds' words. He had a plan, and though it would be a tough battle, the thought of returning to the simple, beautiful life he was building in Chicago gave him the strength he needed.

Mr. Reynolds continued to outline the steps they would need to take, detailing the strategy with a calm confidence that put Four at ease. "We'll need to gather all the evidence of their breaches and document every instance where they failed to uphold their end of the contract," Mr. Reynolds said, pointing to the highlighted sections in the stack of documents. "This will strengthen our case and put pressure on them to negotiate."

Four nodded, feeling more assured. "I can get you all the information you need. I've kept detailed records."

"Good," Mr. Reynolds replied, his eyes sharp with determination. "We'll also need to prepare for a potential public relations battle. If it comes to that, we want to be ready to present our side of the story in the best light possible."

Four's resolve hardened. "Whatever it takes. I'm ready."

Mr. Reynolds leaned back in his chair, a slight smile playing on his lips. "With your commitment and the evidence we can gather, I'm confident we can turn this situation around. It won't be easy, but it's definitely doable."

Four exhaled, feeling a sense of relief mixed with anticipation. He knew the road ahead would be challenging, but he was ready to face it head-on. The thought of reclaiming his artistic freedom and not being told by a record label how he should live his life gave him all the motivation he needed.

The meeting wrapped up with a few final instructions and reassurances. As Four gathered his documents, Mr. Reynolds added, "Remember, Four, this is just the beginning. Stay strong, and we'll get through this together."

Four shook Mr. Reynolds' hand firmly. "Thank you. I appreciate everything you're doing."

With a renewed sense of purpose, Four left the conference room, ready to tackle the challenges ahead.

The screeching of metal on metal filled Tris's ears as the subway car rattled along the tracks. The stale air, thick with the scent of too many bodies packed into a confined space, reminded her why she had left New York. The city was relentless, a place where everyone was always trying to get ahead, no matter the cost. That cutthroat mentality had worn her down, and it was one of the reasons she had left her old law firm. Here, it felt like everyone was out for themselves, climbing over others to reach the top. It wasn't the kind of life she wanted to lead.

As she stood, gripping the metal pole for balance, Tris thought about how different her life was now in Chicago. It was quieter, more peaceful. She missed the sense of community she had found there, something she had never experienced in New York. The subway came to a jarring stop, and she was jostled by the crowd as she made her way to the exit, the cacophony of hurried footsteps and muffled conversations surrounding her.

Stepping out into the busy street, Tris adjusted her bag and took a deep breath. She had been back in New York for four days, caring for her grandmother who had broken her hip after a nasty fall. Between hospital visits and coordinating her grandmother's care, she had hardly had a moment to herself. Her grandmother had been released from the hospital this morning, which allowed Tris to take care of another pressing matter. Being in New York made it easier for her to visit her old law firm and get the information she needed.

Her old law firm loomed ahead, a sleek building of glass and steel reflecting the city's vibrant energy. It hadn't changed much since she left, but to her, it felt like a lifetime ago. She needed information on an old case, one that was strikingly similar to the case she was handling now. Her current case involved a whistleblower who had exposed corruption within a large corporation. The whistleblower was facing severe retaliation, and Tris needed precedent from a similar case she had worked on years ago at this very firm to strengthen her client's position. She had been careful to choose a day when her ex-boyfriend, Al, wouldn't be in the office. Their encounters were always awkward, and his persistent attempts to rekindle their relationship were something she didn't want to deal with today.

The lobby of the firm was just as she remembered—cold and impersonal, with sleek modern design and receptionists who barely looked up from their screens. Tris signed in and made her way to the elevators, trying to ignore the rush of memories that came flooding back. The ride up felt interminable, each floor passing with agonizing slowness, the numbers on the display creeping upward.

When she stepped out onto her old floor, she was greeted by familiar faces, colleagues who had become friends over the years. Their smiles were welcoming, but she could see the curiosity in their eyes, wondering why she had returned. But she was here on a mission and couldn't afford to be distracted. She headed straight to Lauren's office. Lauren had always been kind to her, and Tris was hopeful she could get the information she needed without too much hassle.

"Tris! It's been ages!" Lauren exclaimed, looking up from her desk as Tris entered.

"Lauren, it's so good to see you," Tris replied, genuinely happy to see her old friend. "I wish I was here under better circumstances, but I need your help."

Lauren's smile faded as she listened to Tris explain her situation. "I see. You need access to the old case files. I can help with that. But you know, Al has been handling those files. He might have the information you need."

Tris felt her heart sink. She had hoped to avoid him entirely. "Is there any way you could get the files for me, Lauren? I'd really prefer not to involve Al."

Lauren nodded understandingly. "I'll see what I can do. Give me a few minutes."

Tris waited in Lauren's office, trying to calm her nerves. The office was just as she remembered it, a mix of efficiency and comfort, with photos of Lauren's family scattered across the desk. The idea of running into Al was unsettling. They had ended things on complicated terms, and every encounter since had been filled with tension.

Lauren returned after what felt like an eternity, holding a thick file. "Here it is. I managed to get it without running into Al. He's been out at meetings all morning."

Tris exhaled a sigh of relief. "Thank you so much, Lauren. This means a lot to me."

"Anytime, Tris. You know you can always count on me. How's your grandmother doing?"

"She's recovering slowly. It's been tough, but she's a fighter," Tris replied, grateful for the change in topic.

As they chatted for a few more minutes, Tris couldn't help but glance at the door, half-expecting Al to walk in. The thought made her stomach churn. As they exited the office, Tris was relieved to be almost out of there when a familiar voice called out.

"Tris?"

She turned to see Al approaching, a persistent look in his eyes. "Tris, I didn't know you were back in the city. We should catch up, maybe grab dinner?"

Tris forced a polite smile, her discomfort clear. "I'm just here for my grandmother, Al. I don't have time for anything else."

"Come on, Tris. Just one dinner. We need to talk," Al insisted, stepping closer.

"I really don't have the time, Al" Tris sighed it had been years why was he still hung op on her? " And even if I did, there is nothing left to say"

"Then you make time, Tris. You have never given us a proper change " Al barked.

Before she could respond, she heard another familiar voice. "Tris, is that you?"

She turned to see Four standing a few feet away, his eyes taking in the scene. Relief washed over her. He noticed Al's persistence and stepped in smoothly. He was the last person she expected to be her but she was glad when took a few steps closer to her.

"Hey, Tris. Are you leaving as well?" Four asked, offering her an easy exit.

Tris smiled gratefully at him. "Yes, absolutely. Thanks, Four."

Al's expression shifted to one of annoyance, but he stepped back. "Fine. Maybe some other time."

Tris and Four walked toward the elevators together. As the doors closed behind them, she felt a weight lift off her shoulders. She had what she came for, and now she could focus on the case at hand.

"Thanks for the save, again" she said, glancing at Four.

He smiled, a reassuring warmth in his eyes. "Anytime. Let's get out of here."

As the elevator doors slid open, Tris and Four stepped out into the bustling lobby of the office building. The noise and activity of New York City surged around them, but in that moment, it felt like they were in their own little world.

Four glanced at Tris with curiosity. "So, what brings you to this law firm? Looking for a new job?"

Tris smiled, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. "I used to work here, before I moved to Chicago. I only came because I needed to get some information from my old law firm. And you? What are you doing here?"

"I had some legal matters to attend to," Four replied, keeping his answer brief. He didn't want to burden her with the details of his ongoing battle with his record label just yet. "

Four's expression lightened a bit as he continued, "You know, I've been a client of that law firm for years. I had no idea you used to work there."

Tris looked up at him in surprise. "Really? That's such a coincidence. It's strange how our paths seem to keep crossing."

He chuckled, shaking his head in wonder. "It really is. Life has a funny way of bringing people together."

"But now that that's done," Four continued, "how about we grab some lunch? I could use a break from all this."

Tris's face lit up at the suggestion. "I know just the place. It's one of my old favorites."

They made their way through the crowded streets, weaving between hurried pedestrians and dodging honking taxis. Tris led Four to a small, cozy café tucked away on a quiet side street. The familiar sight brought a wave of nostalgia over her. She had spent many lunch breaks here, finding solace in its warm, welcoming atmosphere.

They found a table by the window, the city's hustle and bustle a distant hum outside. The café was a haven of calm, with soft music playing in the background and the aroma of freshly baked bread filling the air.

After they placed their orders, Four leaned back in his chair, looking at Tris with concern. "How's your grandmother doing?"

"She's recovering slowly," Tris replied, her voice tinged with worry. "It's been tough seeing her like this, but she's a fighter. She was released from the hospital this morning, so that's a good sign. But she is stubborn so I'm afraid that she wont take the rest that she needs."

Four nodded, sensing there was more on her mind.

"And how's Ella? I've missed her these past few days."

Four's face softened at the mention of Ella. "She's doing well. She misses you too. She's been asking about you every day. How's Bailey doing?"

Tris smiled as she thought of Bailey. He was doing much better, his bruised ribs almost healed. Marlene had been taking care of him while she was in New York. She felt a pang of gratitude for Marlene's help; she didn't want to burden Four any more than she already had. He had done so much for her lately, and she wanted to give him a break.

"Bailey's doing much better. His bruised ribs are almost healed," Tris said, her relief evident.

Four laughed. "I must admit, I'm not sure if Ella misses you more or Bailey. I'm surprised you didn't ask us to take care of him when you left."

"Marlene has been taking care of him while I'm here. I felt like you've been doing so much for me lately, and I didn't want to add more to your plate," Tris explained.

Four reached across the table, taking her hand in his. "You don't need to worry about that, Tris. I really wouldn't have minded, but it worked out great since I also had a trip scheduled. But please, next time don't hesitate to ask us. Honestly, you'd be doing me a favor. With Bailey around so much, Ella won't bug me for a dog of her own." He laughed.

Tris looked down at their joined hands, feeling a surge of emotion. "Thank you, Four. That means a lot."

There was a brief silence, filled with the sounds of the café and the city beyond. Then Four asked the question that had been on his mind since they'd run into Al. "Who was that guy back at the office? The one who didn't want to leave you alone"

Tris sighed, looking out the window for a moment before meeting Four's gaze. "Al was my ex-boyfriend. We met in college. At first, things were good. But he kept making decisions for me, without me. He never understood why I didn't appreciate it."

Four nodded, encouraging her to continue.

"He arranged an internship for me at his father's law firm without even asking me," Tris said, her voice tinged with frustration. "I couldn't turn it down because it would have blacklisted me from all the other firms, and it was such a great opportunity on paper. But it wasn't my choice. It started to feel like he was trying to shape me into something else, just like my parents always did. He didn't understand that I wanted to help people, not just make more money."

Four's eyes softened with understanding. "That must have been really hard for you."

"It was," Tris admitted. "He had our whole life planned out within a year, while I wasn't even sure about him. He was suffocating. He didn't let me grow. I'm grateful for the opportunity at the law firm, but it was one I never asked for and never wanted."

Four squeezed her hand gently, offering silent support as she continued.

"We broke up because I couldn't handle the way he controlled everything, the way he controlled me. He's been trying to get back together ever since, but I just... I can't. I don't want to go back to that life. "

Four's heart ached for her. He could see the pain in her eyes, the lingering hurt from a relationship that had left deep scars. "I'm sorry, Tris. You deserve so much better than that."

Tears welled up in her eyes, but she blinked them away, not wanting to cry in public. "Thank you, Four. It's just... hard to revisit all of this. Sometimes, I start to feel guilty, but if i'm honest I never loved him and it wouldn't have been fair to stay with him"

"I understand," he said softly, his thumb gently caressing the back of her hand. "You're a great catch, he probably realized that he could never find someone as terrific as you." He smiled gently at her

The emotion in his voice brought a tear to her eye, and this time she let it fall. "Thank you, Four."

"Let's talk about something more pleasant," Four suggested, offering her a warm smile. "Tell me about some of your favorite places in New York."

Tris's face brightened. "Well, there's this amazing bookstore a few blocks from here. I used to spend hours there, getting lost in the aisles."

They chatted about lighter topics, sharing stories and laughter until the café began to fill with the lunch crowd. Finally, they decided it was time to leave.

Four walked with Tris back towards his hotel, which was on the way to her subway stop. As they approached the building, they noticed a swarm of paparazzi gathering outside, cameras flashing, calling Fours name.

Four tensed, his grip on Tris's hand tightening. "I didn't expect this," he muttered, eyes darting around for an escape route.

Tris looked at the scene in surprise. "Why are they harassing a songwriter?"

"It's a long story," Four replied. "We need to get out of here."

Without hesitation, he grabbed Tris's hand, and they began to run. The paparazzi quickly noticed and followed, shouting questions and snapping photos. Tris felt her heart race as they darted through the crowded streets, weaving between pedestrians and trying to lose the photographers.

"Come on," Tris said, leading him down a side street. "We can head to my grandmother's place. It's not too far from here, we can try to lose the stalkers in the parks and they won't expect us to go there."

Four nodded, grateful for her quick thinking. They continued to run, the sounds of the city blending into a blur around them. After a few more turns and a brisk jog, they finally arrived at a quieter neighborhood.

Tris led Four to her grandmother's brownstone, a stately, elegant building that spoke of old money. They hurried up the steps and into the foyer, shutting the door behind them. The noise from the street faded, replaced by the comforting silence of the grand home.

Leaning against the door, they caught their breath. Four looked around, taking in the rich, tasteful decor that surrounded them. "This place is beautiful," he said, still slightly winded.

"Thanks," Tris replied, a small smile playing on her lips. "It's been in my family for generations."

Four nodded, looking back at her with gratitude in his eyes. "Thank you for getting us out of that mess. I didn't mean to drag you into it."

Tris shrugged, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "It's okay. I'm just glad we're safe. Now, tell me that long story about why the paparazzi are so interested in a songwriter."

Four laughed, and for the first time in a while, he felt a sense of relief. As they locked the front door, shut off from the prying eyes of the paparazzi, he realized that once again, he was grateful to have Tris by his side