A/N: Trigger warning for mentions of child abuse!

If you wanna skip it, stop reading at "His medical records." and continue at "Mike freezes..."

Scars

Mike sits on the couch, his eyes glued to the file in front of him. His expression is frozen, the muffled hum from the conversation Rachel is having in the kitchen barely registers in his mind. All he can hear is the sound of his own pulse pounding in his ears.

Rachel walks into the room, carrying a half-empty glass of wine. She is mid-sentence, her tone light and teasing about some discussion she had with her father over the phone, when she stops in her tracks. The tension in the air hits her like a wall.

Her brow furrows as she takes in the sight of him, completely still, his shoulders hunched, his face pale. "Mike?" she says cautiously, her voice cutting through the heavy silence. "What's going on?" Her gaze flicks to the file on the coffee table. "What is this?"

Mike doesn't respond immediately, his fingers gripping the edge of the paper. Finally, his voice comes, low and shaky. "Eli's adoption papers."

Rachel frowns, stepping closer. "The boy you're defending?"

He nods slowly, almost as if his brain is still catching up to the implications of what he just discovered.

Rachel's eyes dart from Mike to the file. She places the wineglass on the table, then sits down next to him. "Why are you—What's wrong?"

Mike finally looks up, his blue eyes locking onto hers. There's something raw and unguarded in his gaze, something that makes Rachel's stomach twist with unease. It's rare to see Mike look like this, like he's carrying a burden so heavy it's crushing him.

"Look at the names," he says, his voice almost a whisper as he slides the file across the table.

Rachel hesitates, her brows knitting together in confusion. "What are you talking about?"

"The names," Mike repeats, more firmly this time. His tone is insistent, but not harsh. It's the voice of someone holding back a tidal wave of emotions. "The birth parents. Look at the names, Rachel."

Her hand hovers over the file, reluctant to touch it as if it might burn her fingers. There's a part of her that doesn't want to open it, doesn't want to see what's inside, because something in Mike's expression is telling her that whatever is in there, it's going to change everything. Finally, with trembling fingers, she picks it up and flips through the pages.

At first, the words on the paper blur together. She forces herself to focus, her eyes scanning the document until they land on two names that seem to leap off the page. Her breath catches in her throat, and for a moment, the room seems to spin, making her feel as though she were on a carnival ride.

"Mike…" she breathes, her voice barely audible. Her eyes dart back to his face, searching for confirmation. "Is this… Is this real?"

Mike nods slowly, his jaw clenching as he tries to keep his emotions in check. "I knew it," he says, almost to himself. "I mean, I didn't know Harvey was the father, but Donna… Rachel, the kid is the spitting image of her. It's uncanny." He lets out a humorless laugh, shaking his head. "I don't even know how she didn't see it. But Harvey… I think he noticed it right away. That's why he's been acting so strange."

"Wait, Donna met the boy?" she asks, as if in shock.

"Yeah, Eli came to the firm, remember? But she didn't… I don't think she made the connection." His voice lowers, filled with confusion. "Which is crazy because the second I saw him—"

He stops himself, but Rachel is already filling in the blanks, her heart pounding in her chest. She closes the file, placing it on the table as if it's too much to hold on to.

"Mike, you have to understand," she begins softly, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "This must've been so traumatizing for her. Giving him up…" Her voice cracks slightly. "Donna's mind probably won't let her go back there. It's a survival instinct, you know? It's too much pain."

Mike sighs, leaning forward and bracing his elbows on his knees. "I'm sure it was the same for Harvey," he mutters.

Rachel shakes her head lightly, brushing at a stray tear that escapes. "I'm not saying it wasn't hard for him too. But for Donna…" She pauses, trying to find the right words as her emotions threaten to spill over. "She carried Elijah for nine months. Every kick, every moment… Her whole body must've reminded her of him long after she had let him go." She swallows hard, blinking rapidly as the tears begin to fall freely. "That kind of loss… It doesn't just go away."

Mike runs a hand through his hair, his frustration bubbling to the surface. "Then why did they do it, Rachel?" he asks, his voice rising slightly. "Why give him up? They're two of the smartest, most capable people I know. There's no way they couldn't have figured something out. Made it work."

Rachel's voice softens, her gaze fixed on him. "Maybe it wasn't about figuring it out, honey. Maybe it was about fear," she muses. "Donna loves deeply. We've both seen it. And Harvey… He's been running from his emotions his whole life. Maybe they were scared of what it would mean, having a baby together. How it would change things between them. Or maybe—" She stops, her brow furrowing in thought. "Maybe they thought they were protecting him, doing what was best for him at the time."

"Yeah, well, look where that got him," Mike snaps, though the anger isn't directed at her. "He's smart, Rachel. Talented. But he's angry, and who could blame him? He's been abandoned by the people who were supposed to fight for him."

Rachel's eyes widen at his words, but she doesn't back down. Instead, she reaches for his hand, her grip firm. "Maybe they thought they were fighting for him, Mike," she says gently. "I mean… Donna and Harvey? I can't picture either of them making this kind of choice lightly. They must've had a reason. Something big." She squeezes his hand, her voice breaking just slightly. "But it doesn't matter now. What matters is that he's here, and you're his lawyer. You can help him. Fight for him."

Rachel's voice trembles slightly as the gravity of the situation settles over her, and she pulls her hands into her lap, twisting them together. "Can you imagine how shocked they'll be when they find out what happened to him?"

Mike exhales sharply. "Shocked doesn't even begin to cover it," he mutters, his voice tight. "This… This is going to wreck them."

Rachel looks at him, her expression a mixture of anguish and hesitation. "How can I even keep this from her?" she murmurs. "I know it's not our place to say anything, but…" she trails off, sighing heavily as she wrestles with her conscience.

"Rachel," Mike says, cutting her off gently but firmly. "I have to tell Harvey first, before this goes any further." He pauses, the words seeming to weigh heavily on him as he inhales deeply, trying to find his footing. "Since I'll be using Eli's file as part of his defense, I have to disclose it to the prosecution."

Rachel's face pales as understanding dawns. "And if Malik—"

"Exactly," Mike interrupts, his voice darkening. His body stiffens, his hands clenching into fists at the thought. "If Malik gets his hands on this, he'll tear Harvey apart. He'll drag Donna's name through the mud without a second thought. You know how far he's willing to go."

Rachel presses a trembling hand to her mouth, her mind racing as she imagines the fallout. "You're right," she whispers, her voice thick with emotion. "Malik would use this to destroy them. He wouldn't care about the truth; he'd make it a spectacle."

For a moment, silence settles between them, the enormity of their discovery hanging in the air. It feels suffocating, like the walls of the room are closing in around them, and neither knows how to push them back.

Mike suddenly stands, his movements abrupt and restless as he begins pacing the room. His thoughts swirl chaotically, each one more daunting than the last. He runs his hands over his face, exhaling sharply. Rachel watches him, her heart breaking at the sight of him carrying the weight of this impossible situation.

"What are we gonna do, Mike?"

He stops mid-stride, his back to her for a moment before slowly turning around. "Rachel, I can't let this go." His eyes meet hers with a fierce determination. "I can't pretend Eli's past doesn't exist, if it could help us win the case. But if Malik comes for Harvey and Donna… we'll protect them," he says firmly. "No matter what it takes, we protect them."

Mike sinks back down beside Rachel, the weight of the conversation etched into the lines of his face. "But you can't tell Donna," he insists. "I'll find a way to tell Harvey before the trial, and then we let him do it."

Rachel doesn't argue. She knows he's right. As much as it feels wrong to keep this from Donna, the way forward isn't hers to decide.

Mike reaches for Eli's file, flipping it open again as if the pages might somehow offer answers they don't have.

"When does the trial start?" Rachel asks after a beat of silence.

"In two days," Mike murmurs without looking up, his eyes scanning the familiar words and figures in the file. "I'm gonna use everything in here to establish a lack of criminal intent. Try to show that Eli's background, his history, contributed to a lack of judgment. If I can get the judge to see him as more than just a case number, to understand why he's angry, why he made the choices he did…" He pauses, his fingers tightening on the edge of the file. "Maybe we'll get a break."

"And what about Eli?" she asks softly. "What's he like?"

Mike leans back, exhaling a sharp breath that turns into a faint chuckle. "A lot like his dad," he says, a flicker of amusement breaking through the tension. "You should've seen him and Harvey. They butted heads like two rams fighting over the same piece of ground. It was honestly kinda wild to watch."

Rachel can't help but smile, though there's sadness behind it. "That doesn't surprise me. Stubbornness runs in the family."

Mike nods, his lips quirking slightly before his expression turns serious again. "But underneath it, he's scared. I can see it. He's trying so hard to act tough. And you can tell he doesn't trust anyone to fight for him, not really."

Rachel's gaze softens as she reaches over, resting her hand lightly on Mike's arm. "Do you think that'll come through in court?"

Mike's mouth sets in a firm line as he considers the question. "I don't know," he admits. "I hope so. If he can show the judge that he's more than just the mistakes he's made—that there's a kid in there who wants to do better, who's just been dealt a really crappy hand—then we might have a chance. But it depends on him. It depends on whether he's willing to let his guard down enough to show some remorse."

"And if he doesn't?" Rachel's voice is quiet, but the fear in her question is loud.

Mike's shoulders sag slightly, and he looks down at the file in his hands. "If he doesn't…" He shakes his head, his voice barely above a whisper. "Then it's going to be a hell of an uphill battle, and I'm not sure I can win it."

He's about to turn the next page when Rachel's hand rests on his, stopping him. "Wait!"

Mike looks up, confused, and follows her gaze back to the open file. When his eyes drop again, he sees what caught her attention: a stack of photos neatly attached to the top of the page with a paperclip. Rachel reaches over and pulls them out carefully, her fingers unsteady as she flips through them.

"You do realize these are the only…" Her words falter, her throat tightening as a wave of emotion washes over her. She swallows hard before continuing, her voice quieter now, almost reverent. "These are the only photos Donna and Harvey have of their kid, Mike."

She glances up at him, her eyes sparkling with fresh tears. "Shouldn't he have more than this? Family portraits, pictures of vacations, birthdays, trips to the park… Anything?"

Mike sighs heavily, his expression darkening. "That's the thing, Rach," he says, his voice tinged with frustration and sadness. "He's never really had a place. Not a real home, not a real family. He's just been passed around." His gaze drops to the photos in her hands. "I guess these are all the agency has of him."

Rachel stares at the images, her heart aching as she studies each one. The tiny baby with fiery red hair and bright eyes. The chubby toddler sitting on a swing, his toothy grin wide and carefree. The shy little boy in a hand-me-down sweater, standing in front of what looks like a school building. But as she flips further, the photos become less frequent, more impersonal. There are hardly any of him as a teenager, nothing to show who he became.

Rachel stifles a sob, brushing her thumb over the photo of Eli as a baby. "Look how cute he was," she whispers, her voice cracking as a bittersweet smile breaks through her tears. "God, Donna's going to be devastated when she finds out about all of this."

"You know what worries me even more?" Mike mutters, his voice low and grim.

Rachel's smile disappears as she looks up at him, her brow furrowing in concern. "What?"

Mike hesitates for a beat before answering, as if the words themselves are too painful to say. "His medical records."

Rachel freezes, her hands clutching the photos tightly. "No," she breathes, her voice trembling. "Don't—"

Mike nods, cutting her off before she can finish. "He got hit so hard with a belt when he was five that there were welts all over his backside. It's all in the reports." He practically has to force himself to keep going, his throat tight as he speaks. "There's a scar on his back. Someone held a glowing poker to his skin, Rachel. A. Glowing. Poker." He shakes his head, his voice cracking. "It burned so deep that his clothes melted into his skin, and they had to surgically remove them. He was nine."

Rachel gasps, tears spilling down her cheeks, her voice shaking as she pleads, "Mike, stop. Please, just stop."

But he doesn't stop. He can't. The words are spilling out now, as if he's been carrying them alone for too long. "The part of his back that got burned—it never healed properly. He was still so little, but the damage was too bad. He needed a skin graft just to stop the scarring from getting worse." Mike takes a shaky breath. "He was lucky his nerves weren't permanently damaged, but that doesn't make it any better, Rachel. He was a kid. A kid."

"Stop!" Rachel's voice cuts through the air, sharp and filled with anguish. She drops the photos onto the table, her shoulders heaving as she looks up at him, her eyes wide and pleading. "Please, just… stop," she says again, her voice softer now, breaking apart as tears roll down her cheeks.

Mike freezes as Rachel collapses into his arms, her body shaking with quiet sobs. He wraps his arms around her instinctively, holding her tightly as if trying to shield her from the crushing weight of what they've just uncovered. His throat burns, and he feels tears prickling at the corners of his own eyes, but he doesn't let them fall. He needs to be the steady one right now, even if it's killing him inside.

"I'm sorry," he whispers, his voice rough, barely audible. "I didn't mean to… I didn't want to upset you like this."

Rachel shakes her head against his chest, her tears soaking into his shirt. "It's not you," she chokes out between sobs. "It's just—How could anyone do that to a child? To him?"

Mike doesn't have an answer, because there isn't one. Nothing he could say would make sense of the horrors that Eli endured, or the broken system that let it happen. Instead, he tightens his grip on Rachel, his hand rubbing slow, comforting circles on her back.

After a few moments, Rachel pulls back, wiping at her eyes with the sleeve of her sweater. "He was five," she whispers, a tremor running through her. "Five years old, Mike. And no one stopped it. No one stepped in."

Mike sighs deeply, his hands dropping to his sides. "I know," he says, his voice thick with guilt and anger. "That's what's been running through my head since I read the report. All those foster homes, all those caseworkers…. How did no one do anything? How did he just slip through the cracks like that?"

Rachel looks down at the photos, her gaze lingering on one of Eli as a baby, sitting on a blanket in the grass, his tiny fists clutching at the edges of a toy. His face is so bright, so full of innocent joy, and it feels like a gut punch.

"Look at him," she whispers, brushing her thumb over the image. "He didn't deserve any of this. He didn't even get a chance."

Mike's jaw tightens, and his voice drops to a near growl. "And now Malik is gonna try to paint him as a criminal. As if all the crap he's been through didn't shape who he is today. As if any of this is his fault." He gestures toward the file, his frustration boiling over. "And the worst part is, I know Harvey. He's gonna blame himself when he finds out. He's gonna think this is all on him and Donna, and—"

"It's not their fault, Mike," Rachel cuts him off, her voice soft but firm. "They couldn't have known what would happen. You know that, right?"

"Logically? Yeah, I know. But tell that to Harvey. Or Donna. Tell them their kid ended up in the system, got tossed around from one awful situation to another, and somehow convince them it's not their fault." He scoffs bitterly. "Good luck with that."

Rachel hesitates, her eyes drifting back to the photos. "Do you think he knows?" she asks quietly.

Mike frowns. "Who? Eli?"

She nods. "Do you think he knows who they are? Who his real parents are?"

Mike's expression softens, the anger in his features giving way to something sadder, more vulnerable. "I don't think so," he says. "At least, not yet. But… I think he's been looking for something. He wants answers, Rach. You can see it in the way he talks, the way he carries himself. He's been searching for a connection his whole life, even if he doesn't realize it."

Rachel blinks back fresh tears, her voice barely above a whisper. "And what happens when he finds out?"

Mike doesn't answer right away. He looks down at the file in his lap, at the story it tells—a story of pain, loss, and survival against all odds. Finally, he meets Rachel's gaze, his eyes filled with equal parts determination and fear.

"I don't know," he admits. "But I do know one thing." He pauses, his voice steady despite the emotion threatening to crack through. "No matter what happens, I'm not gonna let him face it alone. Not this time."

•••

The wind cuts through Mike's coat as he stands on the courthouse steps, but the cold is nothing compared to the feeling in his chest. He shifts his grip on the file in his hands, his fingers tightening around the edges as he watches Harvey step out of the car.

Harvey moves with his usual confidence—shoulders squared, jaw set, his suit impeccably tailored. But Mike sees the tension there, the slight hesitation in his step before his eyes land on him.

Harvey Specter is a father.

Mike barely slept last night. After combing through Eli's file, finding the adoption papers, and seeing the names written there in black and white, he'd spent hours running through every possible way to break the news. Yet, now that Harvey is walking toward him, Mike hesitates.

Maybe Harvey already knows. It seems unlikely, but if anyone could pull off pretending like nothing is wrong while secretly coming apart at the seams, it's Harvey.

But if he did know, wouldn't he act differently? Wouldn't he tell Mike? Or would he bury it under layers of denial, just like he does with everything else that terrifies him?

Mike falls into step beside him, adjusting his pace to match Harvey's long strides. He waits a beat, then says, "Hey, Harvey, you know you can talk to me, right? I mean, if there's something about Eli that worries you, you can tell me."

Harvey doesn't even glance at him, his eyes fixed ahead.

Mike exhales sharply and tries again. "I can keep a secret."

That makes Harvey stop. He grips the courthouse door handle but doesn't push it open just yet. Instead, he turns to Mike, his brow furrowing. "What are you talking about, Mike?" His voice is low, controlled, but Mike can see the flicker of something beneath it.

Doubt.

Or maybe fear.

Mike watches him closely. He wonders if this is the moment—if he should just tell him. But something in Harvey's face makes him pause.

Harvey hopes Mike can't see the storm brewing in his eyes. Inside his head, a battle is waging. Because Mike isn't wrong. Something about Eli does worry him. Has worried him since the moment he saw that kid's face and felt something in his gut shift.

The thought won't leave him alone: What are the chances?

Sixteen years ago, he and Donna made a decision. A painful one. One that haunted him in quiet moments when no one was looking for months. Years even. Until he closed off his heart more and more, becoming increasingly determined to never think about it again.

And now here's this kid, practically right in front of him, tangled up in his life in a way that feels too deliberate to be coincidence. The DNA test isn't back yet. He has no proof. But God help him, he feels it.

Even if Eli isn't his son—his and Donna's son—Harvey already cares about him. And that terrifies him more than any case, any opponent, any threat he's ever faced in a courtroom.

"Harvey?" Mike's voice pulls him back.

Harvey blinks, shakes his head slightly, then clears his throat. "I don't have time for this, Mike. Not now." He yanks open the courthouse door and steps inside.

Mike sighs, following him. "Fine, but there's something I have to tell you."

"Didn't you hear what I said?" Harvey snaps, eyes flashing as they walk through the hallway. His patience, already frayed, is threadbare now. "I need to focus on this case."

Mike stops walking. "What if it's about the case? About Eli?"

Harvey keeps going. "Then it can wait until after this hearing."

Mike clenches his jaw, watching Harvey push ahead, his long strides putting distance between them. The message is clear: whatever Mike has to say, Harvey does not want to hear it right now.

"Damn it, Harvey," Mike mutters under his breath as he stuffs the file under his arm and follows.

The courtroom is colder than usual, or maybe that's just Harvey's nerves talking. Not that he'd ever admit it. He stands behind the defense table, buttoning his suit jacket, eyes locked on the judge as she reviews the case file.

Mike stands beside him, still holding the folder filled with paperwork. The one that might change everything.

The door opens behind them, and Andrew Malik strides in. His usual smug confidence is on full display, making him look like a man who already knows he's going to win. "Morning," he says smoothly, taking his place across the aisle, his lips curved into a small smirk.

Mike rolls his eyes slightly, scoffing, but Harvey doesn't even glance Malik's way. He's locked in now, his entire posture shifting as his mind sharpens to the task at hand.

The judge finally looks up, peering over her glasses. "Mr. Specter, you requested this hearing. What's the nature of your motion?"

Harvey squares his shoulders, then clears his throat. "Your Honor, my client, Elijah Reed, is a minor who has endured a difficult upbringing, including years in and out of the foster care system." He lets the words settle before continuing. "We believe his actions in this case were not entirely his own. We suspect coercion may have played a role, though we do not yet have concrete evidence. Given this and his age, we are requesting that the prosecution consider a plea deal."

The judge leans back in her chair, studying him. "Counsel, you're alleging that someone forced your client into hacking and securities fraud? Where's your evidence?"

Harvey inhales slowly, keeping his composure. "Like I said, Your Honor, we have nothing concrete now. We're still investigating. But Elijah's limited financial knowledge makes it highly unlikely that he orchestrated this scheme entirely on his own." He shifts his stance slightly, giving Mike an opening.

Mike steps forward. "Your Honor, Eli is a teenager, self-taught in coding, and not a stock market expert. Someone else could have exploited his skills and pushed him into taking these actions."

The judge shifts her gaze to the prosecution. "Mr. Malik, your response?"

Malik, who has been watching with thinly veiled amusement, finally speaks. "Your Honor, the defense's claim of coercion is entirely speculative. There is no evidence to suggest anyone else was involved. Elijah Reed is a remarkably gifted individual who clearly had the intent to profit from this crime. The SEC's investigation traced the unauthorized trades and the falsified brokerage account directly to him. This wasn't coercion; it was a calculated decision."

Harvey snorts. "Calculated? The boy is sixteen. A gifted coder, yes, but also a kid who made a mistake in a moment of desperation. The facts show no malice, just naivety. Elijah has no prior record, no history of fraud, and this was a non-violent offense. We're not asking for a dismissal. We're asking for a deal that takes into account his age, circumstances, and potential."

Mike tightens his grip on the file in his hands. "Your Honor, there's something else that needs to be considered," he says, glancing at Harvey before setting the folder down on the table.

"Eli was adopted as a newborn. His biological parents gave him up, and he spent most of his life being shuffled between foster homes. That kind of instability—never having a stable support system—could have made him more vulnerable to coercion."

Out of the corner of his eye, Mike can see Harvey stiffen. "He was a kid, desperate for a sense of security," he continues. "And if someone promised him that, it's not hard to see how he could have been manipulated."

Harvey keeps his expression unreadable, but his fingers grip the edge of the table, heart thumping.

The judge looks intrigued as she says, "Are you presenting this as part of your defense strategy?"

Mike nods. "Yes, Your Honor. We believe Elijah's background is crucial to understanding his state of mind at the time of the crime."

Malik crosses his arms. Then there it is—the smirk. And Harvey knows. Knows exactly what's coming.

"Well," Malik sneers, "if the defense wants to bring up Elijah Reed's past, then I assume we'll have full access to his entire history." He leans back, looking pleased with himself. "That includes every placement record, every behavioral report, every disciplinary action, every psychological evaluation. If we're making his background the basis of his defense, then the prosecution has a right to explore it as well."

Harvey's chest tightens, making him feel like he can't breathe. He may have agreed when Mike first suggested it, but now he realizes they've just put a target on Eli's back. And Malik, ruthless and calculating, will exploit every last weakness.

If they want to use Eli's background as a shield, Malik will twist it into a weapon. He'll paint Eli as unstable, maybe even reckless. And worse? If Malik digs too deep, he might find something Harvey isn't ready to face.

Harvey feels dizzy, like the ground just shifted under his feet. He should've never agreed to this.

"Very well," the judge says, nodding in an affirmative. "I'll take the arguments under advisement." Her eyes shift between the two sides before landing on Harvey. "And, just so we're clear, Mr. Specter… If you want to pursue the coercion angle, I suggest you bring me something concrete. I won't entertain hypotheticals when it comes to securities fraud."

Harvey gives a curt nod, swallowing the anxiety burning in his throat. "Understood, Your Honor."

The judge glances at her clerk, who hands her a docket. "The next hearing will be in two days. That should give both sides time to prepare their next motions. Court is adjourned."

Harvey exhales through his nose, his body wound tight as a spring. Mike wants to say something, but the look on Harvey's face? It's a warning.

As they step into the hallway, Mike tries again. "Harvey—"

Suddenly, Harvey grabs Mike's arm and pulls him aside. His expression is cold, his grip so tight, Mike grits his teeth, letting out a hiss.

"What the hell was that?" Harvey's voice is low, controlled, but dangerous.

Mike yanks his arm free. "I told you I wanted to use Eli's past in our defense, Harvey. You knew this."

"Yeah, I knew," Harvey snaps. "I didn't know you were going to hand Malik a loaded gun."

Mike scoffs. "Are you kidding me? He was going to find out anyway."

"You don't get it," Harvey grits out, his eyes dark with something more than just anger. "You just made Eli's entire life fair game. Every placement, every rejection, every trauma—Malik can put it on full display."

Mike hesitates. He knew the risk, but seeing Harvey like this—angry, but also… afraid? It makes him wonder if he miscalculated.

He must know.

He must know that Eli's his son.

Harvey rakes a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. "Damn it, Mike."

"Harvey, listen—"

"Well, this just got a hell of a lot more interesting."

Harvey and Mike both turn.

Malik is standing a few feet away, briefcase in hand, watching them with a satisfied gleam in his eyes.

"I've got to admit, Specter, I didn't expect you to go for the 'poor orphan boy' angle." He smiles smugly. "Especially given how easily that story can be… rewritten."

Harvey's blood runs cold.

Malik smiles smugly, all innocence. "Just saying… Once we start looking into Elijah's past, we might find a few things even you weren't expecting." His gaze locks onto Harvey's. "And maybe you won't like what you find."

He lingers just long enough for the words to sink in. Then he walks away, disappearing down the hallway.

Mike turns to Harvey, eyes narrowed. "What the hell was that about?"

Harvey doesn't answer. Because his mind is already racing. Malik is digging. And if he digs deep enough…

Harvey swallows hard and turns away. "I gotta go," he mutters, walking off without another word.