Chapter 2

The next evening, I walked into the lobby of the Blackwood Tower, just like always.

For six hundred years, I’ve gotten used to a life lived in the shadows.

No matter how the world outside changed, I always returned to my sanctuary.

This skyscraper, on a prime Manhattan block—the top floor has always been my private domain.

I walked to the bulletproof glass elevator. My private one. I looked up for the retinal scan.

A red light flashed.

Beep. Beep. Access Denied.

I raised an eyebrow.

A service elevator nearby opened.

A few young employees on overtime glanced at me, then quickly looked down, whispering.

“Isn’t that Yvette from the penthouse?”

“I heard she’s a parasite who’s been freeloading for decades. Director Victoria put her in her place last night.”

“Her retinal scan was deleted. How can she still show her face here?”

I ignored the noise and walked to the front desk.

The receptionist saw me, her eyes darting away.

“Ms. Yvette, your private elevator access… Director Victoria had it revoked this morning.”

I nodded. No point in making things hard for a mortal worker.

“What about the regular service elevator?”

“That one… you can use that one.”

I stepped into a freight elevator that had just been unloaded.

The moment the doors slid open on the top floor, I heard a violent crashing sound.

A few movers were pushing carts, throwing out my rare, night-blooming cereus plants—which I’d cultivated for centuries—like they were trash.

My favorite obsidian chalice, custom-made during the Renaissance, was tossed carelessly in a cardboard box. The red-gold rim was already chipped.

Victoria was standing in the middle of my sanctuary, barking orders.

“Throw out all this moldy junk. It stinks of old crypts.”

“And I want these panoramic windows replaced with the latest holographic screens. I want to look down on all of Manhattan.”

She turned, her eyes landing on me at the doorway.

Victoria’s face split into an exaggerated grin.

“Well, well, Yvette. You actually have the nerve to show up?”

She clicked toward me on her red-soled heels, her eyes full of defiance.

“So sorry. Stephen said my old office had a poor view, not fitting for a Chief Strategy Officer.”

“And this penthouse of yours? Such a waste. In your hands, it’s just left to gather dust. So I thought I’d do the company a favor and take it over.”

I stared at the broken chalice in the box. I didn’t say a word.

I had it made in the 15th century. By the finest artisan in Florence.

It wasn’t priceless, but it held the scent of ages. A shame, really.

“What? Does it hurt?”

Victoria followed my gaze, her malice sharp and undisguised.

“It’s just some worthless old junk. If you really can’t part with it, I’ll Venmo you two hundred bucks. Go sell it at a flea market.”

She lorded her charity over me.

Just then, Stephen walked down the hall with a few suited executives.

He saw the scene and just frowned, annoyed.

“What’s going on?”

Victoria immediately put on her wounded, innocent face and clung to his arm.

“Stephen, I was just upgrading my office, and I think Yvette is upset.”

“But she doesn’t do anything. It’s a waste of company resources for her to occupy this prime space.”

Stephen patted her waist gently, a silent comfort.

Then he turned to me, his gaze cold.

“Yvette, it’s just an office.”

“Victoria is leading the core M&A project for next year. She needs an office with the best view to host the big players from Wall Street.”

He paused, his tone becoming hard as ice.

“As for you, if you don’t like squeezing in with the junior staff…”

“There’s an abandoned records room in the second basement. Clean it up a bit. You can go stare at the walls there.”

A few of the executives barely stifled their smirks.

Telling the shadow founder who once took sixty percent of the profits to pack off to the basement.

The humiliation was so thick you could cut it with a knife.

I watched Stephen quietly.

His handsome face showed no guilt. Only the cool impatience of someone eager to shed a historical burden.

Two hundred years ago, the eighth-generation head of the Blackwood family lost everything in a market crash.

When the bankers came to collect, that old man knelt outside my castle for three days and nights.

It was me who opened my vaults, who threw him a chest of gold coins, who saved this family’s bloodline.

Before he died, he clung to my dress, weeping, swearing the Blackwood family would never forget my mercy.

It seems mortal vows have a very short shelf life.

“Are you sure you want me to move to the records room?”

I stared into Stephen’s eyes. My voice was calm, without a ripple of emotion.

My piercing gaze made him flinch, but he quickly straightened his back.

“Yvette, this is business.”

“This company doesn’t support freeloaders. If you feel wronged, you can leave anytime.”

“Of course, for old times’ sake, I’ll have finance approve a severance package for you.”

I nodded. Fine. If they see my blessing as a burden, I’ll give them what they want.

“Alright.”

Without another glance at the pair, I walked past the debris on the floor.

I stepped straight into the elevator.

Behind me, I heard Victoria’s wild laughter.

“Looks like the shameless leech has some self-awareness after all.”