Andre's private office was nestled in a corner on the 12th floor of the Sirius Software HQ. Behind the Sirius Software Portal door, the office was furnished with oak paneling and oxblood leather. While Andre had balked at installing the Portal, Aaron had overruled his objection. Nevertheless, the office exuded an air of quiet luxury, and had Andre's unmistakable touch.

Ivan sat in a high-backed leather chair, his sleek black suit and black silk tie glinting under the OLED ceiling lights, as he waited for Andre to arrive.

Andre entered with two coffees. His black leather ankle boots clicking on the polished granite floor.

"All right Ivan, start from the top," Andre said, passing a cup.

Ivan took a deep breath, and gave Andre the quick version: Annette's escalating ideology, the slap, his fear for Mikaela's environment. "I need a divorce and custody lawyer. Someone good."

Andre pulled a folder from the shelf behind him, and opened it. "OK, I think I know one that you might like,"

He showed Ivan the file. "Stefan Stanislaus. Reasonably priced, solid track record in custody cases, and a no-nonsense approach,"

Ivan scanned it, jaw set.

"I want full custody of Mikaela. Can this guy do that?" he asked.

"I'll be honest, Ivan. The deck is stacked against you. Courts tend to favor mothers in custody cases, especially for young children. But if we can demonstrate that Annette's behavior is detrimental to Mikaela's well-being, we might have a chance at joint custody with primary physical custody for you," Andre explained.

"Not good enough dammit! I was forced to miss six years of Aaron's life because of her! I'm not going to let her take Mikaela away from me too!" Ivan said, voice rising.

"Calm down, Ivan. I'm just trying to set realistic expectations. Custody battles are a mess, and they can get ugly, especially with the kinds of judges that preside over family courts. But Stefan is the best in the business, particularly for fathers," said Andre.

"All right," Ivan said, taking a deep breath. "Set up a meeting with this guy. I want to get started as soon as possible."

----

"This building is next-level," muttered Tatiana as she stepped into the lobby of Sirius Software's headquarters. The stark contrast of the black glass walls, black polished granite floors, and white ceiling-mounted OLED panels, coupled with the icy air-conditioning, was doing a number on her fascination with environmental psychology.

"Aaron Zakhrov, just what kind of guy are you?" she wondered, as she heard the amplified clip-clopping of both her 8 cm stiletto pumps, and Natasha's combat stiletto heels on the granite floor.

Her attire was "Sirius Software Compliant": a fitted blazer in deep navy, tailored from a fine wool blend with a matte finish and a single-button closure that shaped a clean, narrow silhouette. The lapels were slim, the seams reinforced and precise, shoulders lightly structured. Beneath it, a white cotton blouse with a subtle herringbone weave sat smooth against her frame, concealed placket fastened all the way to a neat collar. A matching pencil skirt in the same navy wool blend followed, knee-length, with a back vent and an invisible side zip that kept lines uninterrupted. A slim black leather belt with a brushed steel buckle drew an understated line at the waist.

Her black hair was pinned into a low bun, sleek and controlled, not a strand out of place. Gray eyes were alert but calm. Her build was slender, her posture exact.

"Dr. Petrov to see you, Master Zakhrov," Natasha announced, through the intercom.

The massive black glass door of Aaron's office hissed open, and Tatiana nervously stepped inside.

"All right, Dr. Petrov, what's this about?" asked Aaron, as Tatiana took the seat across from his desk.

Tatiana took a deep breath. "Mr. Zakhrov, I'm here to discuss the psychological effects of The Feminine Professional's uniforms and apparel. They have been causing widespread psychotic breaks among my patients, from development of fetishes to full-blown PTSD type symptoms," she said, trying to keep her voice steady.

Aaron raised an eyebrow. "And how is that a problem? It sounds more like a trend or fad that women normally work themselves into a frenzy for," he said.

Tatiana blinked. "Mr. Zakhrov, these are not normal reactions. These are severe psychological disturbances that are impacting my patients' ability to function in daily life. It's one thing to feel good in a new outfit, but quite another to be sexually stimulated while taking a customer's order, or to get a panic attack from the sound of your heels clicking on the floor," she explained.

"I see, out of curiosity, could you give me a summary profile of the women who react negatively?" asked Aaron.

"They're all college-aged or slightly older, mostly in low-level service or hospitality jobs, and are mostly women's studies majors or similar," said Tatiana.

"And let me guess, the ones who are developing fetishes are also mostly in the same demographic, except that they are law, finance or management majors," said Aaron.

Realization dawned on Tatiana. "Oh, my God. You are trying to engineer feminist critique out of these clothes, aren't you?" she asked.

"I prefer to think of it as reviving Western civilization," said Aaron, with a slight smile.

"Fascinating! I was so focused on the individual mental health aspect that I didn't even consider the broader patient demographics!" said Tatiana.

Her excitement gave way to apprehension as she saw Aaron looking at her intently.

"Dr. Petrov, I believe that you have the skills I need to head up a Sirius Software HR department. Right now, my way of carefully hand-picking and head-hunting talent is not scalable. I need someone who can interview and screen candidates as Sirius Software expands. Would you be interested?" asked Aaron.

"Why does that sound like you're asking me to help you build a harem of women in skirts and heels?" asked Tatiana.

"What I'm asking you to do is far more insidious Dr. Petrov. I want you to create an environment where those misguided opinions of heels as symbols of patriarchy have no place, and anyone who holds them is weeded out. The system should be self-inoculating against such ideas," said Aaron.

Tatiana tried to ignore the wetness that was forming between her legs.

All this time, she had been fighting an uphill battle against the same ideas that Aaron was trying to stamp out. The thought of using her skills to create such an environment, where the clack of a high-heel and the rustle of a blazer was celebrated instead of vilified, was intoxicating.

"I'm interested, Mr. Zakhrov, but I still have my practice to run," she said, looking at Aaron through her lashes.

"That's easily remedied, you can run your practice here, in the new hospital complex that we've built. Dr. Khan will be your direct report, as she's the head of medical services," said Aaron.

"Very well. You've got me, Mr., no Master Zakhrov," said Tatiana, extending her hand.

"Your employee contract, and NDA is here. Sign it, and add your bank account details, and your biometrics," said Aaron, sliding a tablet across the desk.

Tatiana picked up the tablet, signed the contracts, and added her information, trying and failing to reign in her excitement.

----

Kavitha arrived at a small riverside Punjabi restaurant. She wore a black silk saree with a gold border, over a fitted black blouse with half sleeves. The silk carried a soft luster that caught the warm brass light; the border ran fine and continuous, giving crisp structure to the pleats. Accessories were understated—a slim gold chain and small stud earrings—and a narrow black clutch. Her footwear was black patent-leather slingback shoes with 8 cm stiletto heels, cushioned at the ball and secured with a low-profile buckle. Her glossy black swept into a low bun with a center part

Vikram waved from a corner table. He wore a sleek black tailored suit that sat clean on the shoulders and tapered through the waist, paired with a crisp white dress shirt and a narrow black tie. A black Sikh turban sat with precise lines, and a neat full beard framed a calm mouth. His eyes were a sharp black, observant without edge. Tall and broad-shouldered, he moved with an easy economy that hinted at an athletic physique beneath the suit. Accessories were pared back—a simple leather-band watch—and black leather Oxford shoes with a low stacked heel.

"Hi," he said, standing to pull out her chair.

"Hi," she replied, sitting down.

"So, Dr. Khan. What's a nice girl like you doing in a villain's lair that is Sirius Software?" he asked, with a half-smile.

Kavitha giggled at his opening, before a bout of sadness came over her. "Well, let's just say that there were... complications at my last job," she said, looking down at her hands.

"Well, how about I regale you with how I ended up as CFO?" asked Vikram, easing her out of her pensive mood.

"Please do," said Kavitha, looking up.

"I was initially a bean-counter at a two-bit accounting firm. Hours sucked, pay sucked even harder. I met Mr. Esposito at a car wash of all places, and we got to talking. Next thing I know, I'm whisked off to a crazy-ass obelisk of a skyscraper, told to sign an NDA that would make most people run for the hills, and then told to make sure the IRS can't find anything in the books of what I can only describe as a super-villain's operation! And then, here's the kicker. The books are already super-airtight. All revenue going to offshore accounts before operating capital is routed back into a bunch of US bank accounts. All I had to do was a few tweaks, and then bam! A hundred billion extra added to the net profit, and the IRS gets 40 billion to shut them up. Which is how I was then dragged before Mr. Zakhrov and made into the new CFO!" he regaled, to Kavitha's amused giggles.

A waiter dressed in traditional Punjab livery approached them.

"May I take your orders?" he asked.

"Yes, I'll have a butter chicken with naan," said Vikram.

"Same for me," said Kavitha.

"To drink?" asked the waiter.

"Water," they replied in unison, looked at each other and laughed. Even the waiter cracked a smile.

"Very good, I'll be right back with your drinks," said the waiter, and he left.

Dinner was a pleasant affair, and the topics shifted from work to family, with both of them poking fun at how their parents still expected to arrange marriages for them.

"Walk you to your car?" Vikram asked, as they stood up from the table.

"Please," she said.

They went in easy silence. At the curb, she caught his eye. "This was good."

"It was," he agreed.

Kavitha hesitated for a moment, "You look very handsome in that suit," she said, looking at him through her lashes.

Vikram smiled. "That saree suits you, but I think I prefer that leather number you wore the other day," he said, referring to her Sirius Software Security/Medic uniform.

Kavitha blushed. "That's the first time anyone has said that to me," she said, looking down.

Vikram took a step closer, and leaned down.

"I find it intoxicatingly sexy that you can break bones in that uniform, but choose to heal them instead," he whispered in her ear.

Kavitha's breath hitched, and her knees buckled slightly.

"R-really?" she stammered.

Vikram took her hand and gently kissed it. "I look forward to our next date, Mistress Khan," he said, before turning and walking away.