Prosecuting is your life. You lived and breathed the law. You were practically nothing if you weren't leaping at the opportunity to get those who deserve to be put behind bars off the streets of your side of New York.

You're tough. Arrogant, and rightfully so. In the past seven years you've taken on over 100 cases just to prove a point. And out of those 100 cases you've only lost 20. Your name strikes fear into many who lurk the shadows simply because you're just that fuckin' good.

Hell's Kitchen is a completely different ball game. Grittier, messier, harder to get people in power to listen. Luckily not that often since most of the criminals through that revolving door did in fact commit the crime they're accused of--sometimes including more charges. But you weren't shaken at all. You weren't scared of these powerful thugs that could make someone disappear with a simple nod. You're fierce, competitive, and untouchable.

"Ma'am," your assistant, Sherri, approached your desk with her binder containing a manila folder tucked under her elbow. "A new case has come through today...it's a big one."

"Biggest one yet?" You ask. She chuckled to herself because that's been an ongoing joke between the two of you since her first year interning.

"I would say so. Like, actually, say so."

"Uh huh..." you took the folder from her and analyzed the contents of the files with a careful eye. Taking in every single word on the page.

"I think this one will be difficult, but winnable," she added. The accused is a man who's been in the system before. Tried for attempted murder, shooting at cops, dealing hard drugs, the whole nine yards. But the thing that would make this difficult is that a lot of these charges fell through and he got out early on good behavior. This... this is the kind of case that's been calling your name.

A few days later, you sit in court going over the things you're going to say and the things you aren't. Opening statements, how to grab the jurors attention, the judge's attention, how you're going to make the limited evidence work for and not against you. You are going to win the case. You must.

Matt and Foggy were sweating bullets. This was going to be tough, but Foggy insisted on taking this case to show the community they actually care. They've gone over their statements and defenses a million times so the first day of trial at least should go okay... right? With the witness testimonies and counter evidence they've got, they can at the very least put up a fight.

Foggy walked in first, then came Matt. You stood up and shook Foggy's hand with a practiced smile, and the second you turned to your right, you had to refrain from cursing out loud.

Matt's footsteps slowed as he approached you. Something was firing off in his mind. That presence, that...smell. That shampoo, that familiar clack of that heel. No way.

"Mr. Murdock," you said with a lot less smile. Damn it. It is you.

His ex.