The new name will be:

Donna, I expect you to handle the press release. Gretchen, please order bagels—everything, but no poppy seed, because someone always gets them stuck in their teeth during depositions.

Donna, I know you’ll show Harvey this email before Friday. That’s fine. Tell him I’ve already ordered the champagne. And tell him that if he cries, I won’t tell anyone. Much.

The firm is officially renamed .

I am writing this email for the third time. The first was too emotional. The second was too litigious. This one is .

Meanwhile, Harvey Specter waltzed in from the DA’s office with his perfect hair and his “I don’t lose” bravado. He became junior partner in record time. Then senior partner. Then name partner? Then name partner.

I stormed out. I ate an entire pint of Ben & Jerry’s (Phish Food, if you’re wondering). Mikado II sat on my lap and purred. And I decided: fine. I’ll wait.

When I joined Pearson Hardman, I was a junior associate with a spreadsheet for a soul and a cat named Mikado who understood me better than any human ever could. I billed 3,000 hours my first year. I found the loophole that saved Meridian Global. I rewrote the entire firm’s doc review protocol—and did I get a plaque? No. I got a “good job, Litt” from Jessica, which I later realized was the legal equivalent of a participation ribbon.

(Harvey, you stay second because you’re still useful, and because “Litt & Specter” sounds like a cranky law firm from 1952. “Litt, Specter & Associates” has rhythm.)