LOGINThe tension inside Blackwood & Vale lingered long after Roman Ellis walked through the doors.
Vivian could still feel it hours later. It sat in the air like smoke after a fire — invisible but impossible to ignore. From her desk outside Damien Blackwood’s office, she watched associates move carefully through the litigation floor, their voices lower than usual, their movements quicker whenever Damien stepped out of his office. Nobody wanted his attention on a normal day. Today was worse. Because Roman Ellis had managed to do something very few people ever accomplished within the walls of this firm. He irritated Damien Blackwood. Personally. Vivian glanced toward the glass office where Damien stood on a call near the windows overlooking Manhattan. His back faced the room, broad shoulders tense beneath a charcoal suit jacket while one hand loosened the knot of his tie slightly. That alone told her enough. Damien never loosened his tie before six. “You’re staring.” Vivian looked up sharply to find Chloe Bennett leaning against her desk holding two coffee cups. “I’m working,” Vivian replied. Chloe handed her one anyway. “You only look that focused when you’re stressed.” “I’m always stressed.” “Fair point.” Vivian accepted the coffee with a quiet sigh while Chloe lowered her voice conspiratorially. “So.” “No.” “You don’t even know what I was going to ask.” “You were going to ask about Roman Ellis.” Chloe looked offended. “Well now I definitely am.” Vivian tried ignoring her, opening the Morrison case files again. It didn’t work. “Is he really as ruthless as people say?” Chloe asked. “Yes.” “And rich?” “Very.” “And unfortunately attractive?” Vivian took a slow sip of coffee. “That’s irrelevant.” Chloe nearly choked on her own drink. “Oh my God. That means yes.” Before Vivian could respond, Damien’s office doors opened. The entire floor straightened instinctively. Damien walked out with effortless authority, sleeves rolled neatly to his forearms again, expression unreadable as his eyes moved directly toward Vivian. Not Chloe. Vivian. “Conference room. Five minutes.” Then he disappeared down the hallway. Chloe stared after him dramatically. “You know,” she whispered, “one day he’s either going to marry you or ruin your life.” Vivian nearly inhaled coffee the wrong way. “Neither of those things are happening.” “Mm-hm.” Chloe walked away unconvinced. Vivian gathered her files quickly before heading toward the main conference room, mentally preparing herself for another brutal strategy meeting. Inside, several senior attorneys were already seated around the long black table, laptops open, tension visible across exhausted faces. Damien stood near the screen at the front of the room. Waiting. The conversations stopped immediately when Vivian entered. Not because of her. Because Damien’s attention shifted toward her the second she walked in. “Sit,” he said simply. She took the seat directly beside him. Unfortunately, that seat always felt hotter than the others. Damien pressed a button on the remote in his hand, projecting financial reports across the screen. “Morrison Holdings is preparing for litigation,” he began. “Ellis is positioning them aggressively, which means they’re expecting us to settle.” One of the senior associates frowned. “Will we?” Damien’s expression remained calm. “No.” The room fell silent. Vivian watched him carefully while he spoke. This was the version of Damien Blackwood the legal world feared. Sharp. Composed. Untouchable. Every word precise. Every movement deliberate. He dismantled opponents with the same calm efficiency other people used to organize paperwork. “And if Ellis pushes public exposure?” another attorney asked cautiously. “Then we bury him in procedure before he gets near a courtroom.” The confidence in his voice should’ve sounded arrogant. Instead, it sounded inevitable. Damien turned slightly toward Vivian. “I want a complete review of Ellis’s previous litigation strategies.” “I already started.” His gaze lingered for half a second too long. “I know.” Something strange tightened in her chest. Damien trusted very few people. But when it came to work, he trusted her completely. And somehow that felt more intimate than it should. The meeting lasted another hour before finally ending. One by one, the attorneys filtered out until only Vivian and Damien remained inside the conference room. Silence settled heavily between them. Vivian organized her files carefully. “You antagonized Ellis today,” she said without looking up. Damien leaned against the edge of the table. “He antagonized me first.” “You could’ve refused the meeting professionally.” “I did.” “You threatened him professionally.” “That too.” Despite herself, Vivian smiled faintly. Damien noticed immediately. His eyes narrowed slightly. “There it is again.” She looked up. “What?” “That look.” “What look?” “The one that appears right before you decide I’m being unreasonable.” “You are being unreasonable.” A pause. Then, unexpectedly: “You still stayed.” The words caught her off guard. Vivian looked at him fully then. Damien’s expression remained composed, but something quieter existed beneath it tonight. Fatigue, maybe. Or something worse. For a moment, neither spoke. The city lights reflected softly against the conference room glass around them, rain streaking down the windows behind Damien’s silhouette. Too close, Vivian thought suddenly. Everything about this felt too close. She stepped back first. “You have dinner with the Harrington board at eight,” she said professionally. Damien’s jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. And there it was again. That strange disappointment she occasionally saw whenever she created distance between them. Before either could say another word, Vivian’s phone buzzed in her hand. Unknown number. She frowned slightly before answering. “Vivian Cole speaking.” “Good evening, Ms. Cole.” Roman Ellis. Her posture stiffened instantly. Across the room, Damien noticed immediately. And watched her carefully. “I hope I’m not interrupting,” Roman continued smoothly. “How did you get this number?” “I have excellent researchers.” Vivian walked toward the far side of the room instinctively. “That’s mildly concerning.” Roman laughed softly. The sound was warm. Easy. Dangerously charming. “I actually called for a professional reason.” “I’m listening.” “I’d like to request several Morrison documents your firm hasn’t released yet.” “That request should go through legal channels.” “It already did.” “And?” “And your boss rejected it in under four minutes.” Vivian closed her eyes briefly. That sounded exactly like Damien. “Then I’m afraid there’s nothing more I can do.” “Maybe not professionally.” Her brows pulled together slightly. Across the room, Damien’s expression darkened. He couldn’t hear Roman’s voice. But he could read Vivian well enough to know the conversation wasn’t ordinary. Roman continued. “Tell me something honestly, Vivian.” The use of her first name felt intentional. Careful. Calculated. “Yes?” “Is Damien Blackwood always this impossible…” A pause. “…or does he save the worst of himself for me?” Vivian glanced up instinctively. Directly into Damien’s eyes. And somehow, standing there between one man on the phone and another watching her silently from across the room, she felt something dangerous begin shifting beneath the surface of her carefully controlled life. Something complicated. Something that already felt impossible to stop. She knew what it was, but can't quite admit it yet. "Well, every man has his own ways" she answered carefully. "As expected, you wouldn't give your boss away that easily" he said "Anyway, I'll keep in touch" he continued before ending the call.Eight months later... Manhattan had moved on. The city always did. No permanent reminder of the months of fear, betrayal, and violence that had surrounded the Morrison case. New headlines had replaced the old ones. New scandals occupied the newspapers. New faces appeared on television. And slowly... The world stopped talking about Project Orion. But for the people who had lived through it... Forgetting wasn't that simple. --- Nathan Cross sat alone in his office one rainy afternoon, staring at a file that had once occupied almost every waking hour of his life. The cover was worn. The corners were bent. Across the front, in bold black letters, was the name: MORRISON HOLDINGS He opened it one final time. Inside were photographs. Financial records. Witness statements. Corporate documents. Interrogation reports. And, near the bottom... A photograph of Victor Kane. Cross stared at it for several seconds. Victor had survived the shooting. The bullet wound had left
Morning came quietly to Manhattan. For the first time in months... There were no emergency calls. No mysterious messages. No footsteps Vivian couldn't explain. No shadow waiting across the street. Victor Kane was in custody. Vincent Harrow was dead. The conspiracy that had consumed their lives was finally beginning to collapse under the weight of evidence. Yet Vivian couldn't shake the feeling that something had changed. Not outside. Inside her. --- She arrived at Margaret Ashford's office shortly after nine. Margaret was already there, sorting through documents. She looked up. "You didn't sleep." Vivian smiled faintly. "Neither did you." "I've had more years of practice." Vivian sat down. For several seconds, she simply stared at the files on the table. Then she said, "It's really over." Margaret stopped sorting. "Yes." "Victor can't hurt us anymore." "Not from where he is." Vivian nodded. "And Vincent..." Her voice faded.
Victor ran. His footsteps echoed through the abandoned warehouse as he pushed through the rear corridor. Behind him... Nathan Cross followed. "Victor!" Victor didn't stop. He reached the emergency exit and shoved it open. Cold morning air hit his face. He ran into the alley. Cross emerged seconds later. "Stop!" Victor looked back. Then kept running. He was limping now. The wound from the earlier confrontation had slowed him, but adrenaline kept him moving. He reached the end of the alley. A vehicle waited. He grabbed the door handle. It didn't open. Victor froze. The vehicle was locked. He looked inside. Empty. Cross approached from behind. "You're out of options." Victor turned slowly. "You think this is over?" Cross kept his weapon trained on him. "It is." Victor laughed. "You don't understand." "I understand perfectly." "You destroyed everything." Cross shook his head. "You destroyed everything." Victor's expression hardened. "You took Morrison
The morning arrived quietly. Too quietly. Nathan Cross stood inside an unmarked vehicle several blocks from the abandoned industrial property. Rain had stopped during the night, leaving the streets slick beneath the pale morning light. His team waited in silence. Laura sat beside him, studying the building through binoculars. "Movement." Cross looked up. "Where?" "Second-floor window." She lowered the binoculars. "Someone just crossed it." Cross nodded. "Victor?" "Can't tell." He looked toward the building. "Then we wait." Laura frowned. "You said we were moving this morning." "We are." Cross checked his watch. "But not until we're certain Vivian isn't being used as bait." --- Across Manhattan... Vivian stood in her apartment, staring at her phone. She hadn't slept much. Not because of the threats. Because of the conversation with Roman. And the kiss. She touched her lips briefly. Then shook her head. "This is complicated
Vivian stared at the message on her phone. Ask Damien what happened. Her brows drew together. A second message appeared. Then ask Roman. She read it twice. Before she could decide what it meant, another message appeared. They haven't told you everything. Vivian's heart began to beat faster. She looked around her apartment. Nothing moved. The curtains were closed. The door was locked. Yet suddenly the room felt exposed. Her phone vibrated again. Ask them what happened before you decide who you trust. She stared at the screen with trembling hands. For several seconds... She didn't move. She kept wondering what the sender meant by they haven't told her everything. Could they be keeping secrets from her? She thought to herself. Then she called Damien. --- "Vivian?" His voice was calm. Too calm. "Where are you?" "At home." "What happened?" "I received a message." Silence. "What kind of message?" Vivian swallowed. "It told me to ask you what happened." "I
Nathan Cross barely slept.The photographs recovered from the Brooklyn warehouse were spread across his desk.Damien.Roman.Vivian.Margaret.The courthouse.Blackwood & Vale.Ellis, Harper & Lowe.Every important location connected to the investigation.Someone had spent weeks studying them.Not randomly.Carefully.Cross picked up the photograph of Vivian.Then placed it beside the photographs of Damien and Roman.Something bothered him.He had been looking at the evidence from the wrong direction.Victor and Vincent weren't trying to destroy the investigation.They were trying to destroy the people behind it.And there were two men at the centre of that circle.Damien Blackwood.Roman Ellis.Cross reached for his phone."Laura.""Yes?""I need you to trace every communication Victor had with Morrison during the final year of the operation.""We already searched those records.""Search them again."A pause."What are we looking for?""Anything that connects Victor to Damien, Roman,







