2. Under Surveillance

Rain hammered against the city like a thousand angry fists.

From the twenty-third floor of a rundown apartment building, Seraphina Vale watched the storm swallow the skyline.

The city never slept.

It lied.

It cheated.

It buried secrets beneath towers of glass and steel.

And somewhere among those towers stood the man she hated most.

Damian Blackwood.

The name alone made her jaw tighten.

At twenty-eight, he was already one of the youngest billionaires in the country. CEO of Blackwood Holdings. Media darling. Ruthless businessman.

To the world, he was a genius.

To her, he was a murderer.

Seraphina stared at the framed photograph sitting on her desk.

Her father smiled back at her.

Thomas Vale.

Investigative journalist.

Truth seeker.

Dead.

Seven years had passed, yet the pain remained sharp enough to cut.

Official reports called it an accident.

A car crash.

A tragic loss.

But Seraphina knew better.

Her father had been investigating corruption tied to several powerful corporations.

Three days before his death, he had called her.

She remembered every word.

"If anything happens to me, don't trust the story they tell you."

Then he was gone.

The police closed the case within a week.

The media moved on.

Everyone forgot.

Everyone except her.

A knock sounded on the apartment door.

"Come in."

The door opened.

A woman in her early thirties stepped inside carrying two coffees.

Lena Cruz.

Best friend.

Former colleague.

The closest thing Seraphina had to family.

"You haven't slept."

Seraphina accepted the coffee.

"Neither have you."

"That's because you're dragging me into insanity."

"Again."

Lena dropped onto the couch.

"You know, normal people deal with grief by getting therapy."

"Normal people don't have murderers walking free."

Lena sighed.

There was no point arguing anymore.

They'd had this conversation hundreds of times.

"What did you find?" Lena asked.

Seraphina turned her laptop around.

A photograph filled the screen.

Blackwood Tower.

Fifty-seven stories of steel and glass.

Headquarters of Blackwood Holdings.

Lena groaned immediately.

"Oh no."

"Oh yes."

"No."

"Yes."

"You have that look."

"What look?"

"The one that gets us arrested."

Seraphina smiled.

Lena buried her face in her hands.

"Tell me you're not planning what I think you're planning."

"I'm starting Monday."

Lena froze.

"What?"

"I got the job."

Silence.

The rain battered the windows.

For several seconds Lena simply stared.

Then

"You applied?"

"I interviewed."

"You got hired?"

"Senior communications assistant."

Lena stood so quickly coffee nearly spilled everywhere.

"You're insane."

"Probably."

"Seraphina"

"I need answers."

"Not like this."

"It's the only way."

Lena shook her head.

"Blackwood Holdings is one of the most powerful companies in the country. Security alone is impossible."

"Good thing I'm not breaking in."

"You are literally infiltrating a billion-dollar corporation under a fake identity."

"Semantics."

"That's not semantics!"

Seraphina laughed despite herself.

The sound felt foreign.

She hadn't laughed much lately.

Lena's expression softened.

"You really think he's responsible?"

The question hung between them.

Heavy.

Dangerous.

Personal.

Seraphina looked back at her father's photograph.

"I know he is."

Lena didn't answer.

Because deep down, they both knew something uncomfortable.

Knowing and proving were two different things.

And after seven years, Seraphina still had no proof.

Only suspicion.

Only anger.

Only a promise she refused to break.

Outside, lightning flashed across the sky.

For a moment the city turned white.

Then darkness returned.

And somewhere beyond the storm, Damian Blackwood was completely unaware that his worst nightmare had just been hired.

Monday arrived too quickly.

Blackwood Tower was even more intimidating in person.

The skyscraper pierced the clouds like a blade.

Employees flooded through the revolving doors.

Expensive suits.

Luxury watches.

Perfect smiles.

Power.

Money.

Influence.

Everything her father had spent his career exposing.

Seraphina adjusted her blazer and joined the crowd.

Her fake ID badge hung around her neck.

Sera Knight.

The name still felt strange.

Months of preparation had led to this moment.

Background checks.

References.

Fabricated employment history.

Everything carefully constructed.

One mistake would destroy everything.

The lobby alone was larger than her entire apartment floor.

Marble gleamed beneath crystal chandeliers.

Massive digital displays showcased company achievements.

Profits.

Partnerships.

Expansion plans.

Success.

It almost made her sick.

A cheerful HR representative greeted her.

"Miss Knight?"

"That's me."

"Welcome to Blackwood Holdings."

The woman led her toward a private elevator.

"Most new employees never see the executive floors."

Lucky me.

The elevator climbed.

Ten.

Twenty.

Thirty.

Forty.

Fifty.

Each number tightened the knot in Seraphina's stomach.

Soon.

She would finally see him.

The man she'd spent years imagining.

The man she'd blamed for everything.

The doors opened.

The executive floor was quiet.

Almost unnaturally so.

Floor-to-ceiling windows revealed the entire city.

Employees moved with careful efficiency.

Nobody lingered.

Nobody wasted time.

The atmosphere felt less like an office and more like a battlefield.

"Your department is down this hall."

The HR representative smiled.

"Good luck."

Then she disappeared.

Seraphina took a breath.

One step.

Then another.

The war had officially begun.

She rounded a corner.

And collided directly into someone.

Hard.

A folder slipped from her hands.

Papers exploded across the floor.

"Oh my God."

She crouched instantly.

"I'm so sorry"

A pair of polished black shoes stopped in front of her.

Silence.

Strange silence.

The kind that made every instinct scream.

Around her, employees had frozen.

Nobody moved.

Nobody spoke.

The atmosphere shifted instantly.

Seraphina looked up.

And forgot how to breathe.

The man standing before her was taller than she expected.

Broad shoulders.

Dark tailored suit.

Black tie.

Sharp features.

Cold gray eyes.

The kind of face magazines loved.

The kind of face villains probably practiced in mirrors.

Power radiated from him effortlessly.

Danger too.

He didn't look human.

He looked carved from stone.

Damian Blackwood.

For seven years she had imagined this moment.

She'd imagined shouting.

Accusing.

Hating.

Instead, her mind went completely blank.

His gaze settled on her ID badge.

Then on her face.

Something flickered behind those gray eyes.

Assessment.

Calculation.

Judgment.

Cold.

Every bit as cold as the rumors claimed.

The entire floor seemed to hold its breath.

Finally, he spoke.

"New hire."

Not a question.

A statement.

His voice was calm.

Controlled.

The type of voice that expected obedience.

"Yes."

One eyebrow lifted.

He looked down at the scattered papers.

Then back at her.

"You're blocking the hallway."

The words hit harder than they should have.

Not because they were rude.

Because they were indifferent.

She had built this man into a monster.

A villain.

A target.

Yet standing here, he looked at her as if she were completely insignificant.

For some reason that irritated her more.

She stood.

Gathered the remaining papers.

Straightened her shoulders.

"Then perhaps hallways should be wider."

A few nearby employees visibly panicked.

Someone actually choked.

Damian stared.

One second.

Two.

Three.

Nobody spoke to him that way.

That much was obvious.

His expression remained unreadable.

Then

The corner of his mouth moved.

Not quite a smile.

Not quite amusement.

Something more dangerous.

Interest.

"What's your name?"

"Sera Knight."

His gaze lingered.

Longer than necessary.

As though memorizing her.

Something about it made her uncomfortable.

Finally he nodded once.

"Try not to create traffic problems, Miss Knight."

Then he walked away.

Just like that.

No dramatic confrontation.

No recognition.

No thunder.

No lightning.

The man responsible for consuming seven years of her life had simply dismissed her.

Employees immediately relaxed.

Conversations resumed.

Movement returned.

And Seraphina stood frozen.

Heart racing.

Anger boiling.

Because she realized something she absolutely hated.

Damian Blackwood was nothing like she'd imagined.

And that made him far more dangerous.

Three floors below, inside a private executive office, Damian Blackwood stood before the windows overlooking the city.

Rain clouds still lingered on the horizon.

His assistant entered quietly.

"You wanted the file?"

"Yes."

A folder appeared on his desk.

Damian opened it.

Inside sat a photograph.

Employee onboarding documents.

Background information.

Resume.

Application history.

Everything available.

At the top of the page:

SERA KNIGHT.

Twenty-four.

Communications specialist.

Excellent academic record.

No obvious concerns.

His assistant frowned.

"Something wrong?"

Damian's gaze remained on the photograph.

"No."

"You don't usually request employee files."

He knew that.

Yet something felt off.

The woman from the hallway.

The way she'd looked at him.

Most people reacted with nervousness.

Fear.

Admiration.

Ambition.

Her reaction had been different.

More personal.

More intense.

As though she'd already decided she hated him.

Interesting.

Damian closed the folder.

"Keep an eye on her."

The assistant blinked.

"Why?"

A pause.

Then Damian looked back toward the storm-dark skyline.

"Because instincts exist for a reason."

For the first time in months, something felt wrong.

And Damian Blackwood had learned long ago never to ignore that feeling.

Especially when it arrived wearing a beautiful face.

Chapter 2: Under Surveillance

The first rule of infiltration was simple.

Blend in.

The second rule was even simpler.

Never get noticed.

Unfortunately, Seraphina Vale had already broken both.

By noon on her first day at Blackwood Holdings, half the executive floor knew her as the woman who had nearly collided with Damian Blackwood.

The other half knew her as the woman who had actually spoken back to him.

Neither reputation was ideal.

Seraphina sat at her desk and pretended to focus on the stack of reports in front of her.

In reality, she was studying the office.

Every detail mattered.

The executive communications department occupied the fifty-second floor. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the city, while glass walls separated departments into sleek, modern spaces.

Everything looked expensive.

Even the coffee machine probably cost more than her monthly rent.

Around her, employees typed rapidly, answered calls, and rushed between meetings.

Nobody wasted time.

Nobody relaxed.

It felt less like an office and more like a machine.

A machine Damian Blackwood controlled.

"Still alive?"

Seraphina glanced up.

A blonde woman stood beside her desk.

Friendly smile.

Bright eyes.

A company badge identified her as Rachel Morgan.

"I think so," Seraphina said.

Rachel laughed.

"Good. Most people spend their first day having mini heart attacks."

"I'll keep that in mind."

Rachel lowered her voice.

"You really talked back to him?"

Word traveled fast.

Seraphina sighed internally.

"Apparently."

Rachel looked impressed.

"You've got courage."

"Or poor judgment."

"Probably both."

They shared a laugh.

For the first time all morning, Seraphina felt herself relax.

Maybe making friends here wouldn't be impossible.

"Just a piece of advice," Rachel said.

"If Damian Blackwood notices you, that's usually not a good thing."

Too late for that.

Seraphina forced a smile.

"I'll remember."

Rachel returned to her desk.

Seraphina's attention shifted back to her computer screen.

A list of internal company directories glowed before her.

Most employees would use it to locate departments.

She intended to use it for something else.

Secrets.

Her father had spent years investigating Blackwood Holdings.

If answers existed, they were here somewhere.

The challenge was finding them without attracting attention.

Carefully, she opened archived media records.

Nothing unusual.

Then annual reports.

Nothing.

Board meeting summaries.

Still nothing.

Frustration began creeping in.

Seven years.

Seven years of chasing shadows.

And yet she was no closer to the truth.

Her fingers paused on the keyboard.

A familiar name appeared on screen.

Ashford Consortium.

The same company mentioned repeatedly in her father's old notes.

The same company connected to several joint ventures with Blackwood Holdings.

Interesting.

Very interesting.

She clicked the file.

Access Denied.

Executive Clearance Required.

Seraphina frowned.

Of course.

The one file she wanted was locked.

A shadow fell across her desk.

Instantly, she minimized the screen.

Her heart jumped.

Then she looked up.

It wasn't Damian.

Just her department supervisor.

Mason Reed.

Mid-forties.

Sharp suit.

Perpetually stressed expression.

"Miss Knight."

"Yes?"

"Conference room B."

"What for?"

"Executive briefing."

Her surprise must have shown because Mason sighed.

"I didn't make the list."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning the CEO requested every department representative attend."

Damian.

Again.

A knot formed in her stomach.

"Five minutes."

Mason walked away.

Seraphina stared after him.

This was getting ridiculous.

She'd been here less than two days.

Why was Damian Blackwood already appearing everywhere?

Conference Room B resembled a luxury hotel suite more than a meeting room.

A long glass table dominated the center.

Large screens lined the walls.

The city skyline stretched beyond the windows.

Employees filled seats around the room.

Seraphina chose one near the back.

Far from attention.

Far from danger.

Or so she hoped.

The doors opened.

Conversations died instantly.

Damian Blackwood entered.

The change in atmosphere was immediate.

Power wasn't something he demanded.

It followed him naturally.

He wore a charcoal suit today.

No unnecessary accessories.

No flashy displays of wealth.

Just confidence.

The dangerous kind.

The room watched him.

Damian ignored them.

He moved to the head of the table and opened a presentation.

"We have a problem."

No greeting.

No introduction.

Straight to business.

A chart appeared on the screen.

Falling numbers.

Declining projections.

Negative press coverage.

"The Mercer account is considering termination."

Murmurs spread through the room.

Apparently that was bad.

Very bad.

Damian continued.

"Their concerns center around public perception."

He clicked another slide.

News headlines appeared.

Media criticism.

Industry rumors.

Speculation.

For the next thirty minutes, executives debated solutions.

Most sounded terrible.

One suggested expensive advertising campaigns.

Another recommended legal threats.

A third proposed ignoring the issue entirely.

Seraphina nearly laughed.

These people were paid millions?

Damian remained silent.

Watching.

Listening.

Evaluating.

Finally, his gaze swept across the room.

Then stopped.

On her.

Her pulse jumped.

"Miss Knight."

Every head turned.

Wonderful.

"What would you do?"

Silence.

Complete silence.

Seraphina resisted the urge to curse.

This had to be deliberate.

There was no reason for the CEO to ask a brand-new employee for advice.

Yet here they were.

Thinking quickly, she glanced at the headlines.

Then at the charts.

An idea formed.

"If public trust is the issue," she said carefully, "then advertising won't help."

Several executives frowned.

She continued.

"People trust transparency more than marketing."

The room listened.

"We should address the concerns directly."

"How?" someone asked.

"Open interviews. Public reports. Independent audits."

More frowns.

More skepticism.

"Show people there's nothing to hide."

The room fell quiet.

Damian studied her.

For several long seconds, nobody spoke.

Then he nodded once.

"Implement it."

Shock spread around the table.

One executive blinked.

"Sir?"

"I said implement it."

The discussion ended immediately.

Nobody argued.

Nobody questioned.

Just like that, the decision was made.

Seraphina stared.

Part of her felt victorious.

The other part felt annoyed.

Why had he listened to her?

Hours later, the office finally emptied.

Employees headed home.

Lights switched off floor by floor.

Yet Seraphina remained.

The building grew quieter.

Perfect.

She waited another twenty minutes before leaving her desk.

Then she headed toward the executive archives.

The same locked section she'd noticed earlier.

The hallway stood empty.

Her footsteps echoed softly.

A security scanner guarded the entrance.

No employees.

No witnesses.

Just opportunity.

She examined the keypad.

Executive clearance only.

There had to be another way.

She was so focused on the lock that she didn't hear someone approach.

Not until a familiar voice spoke.

"Looking for something?"

Her entire body froze.

Slowly, she turned.

Damian Blackwood stood behind her.

His expression remained unreadable.

Which somehow made him even more intimidating.

Think.

Fast.

"I got lost."

One eyebrow rose.

"Again?"

"Big building."

His gaze shifted to the security door.

Then back to her.

"Interesting place to get lost."

Heat crept into her cheeks.

She hated that.

Hated feeling caught.

"Maybe I was curious."

"Curiosity causes problems."

"Sometimes it finds answers."

For a brief moment, something flashed across his face.

Recognition.

As though the words meant something to him.

Then it disappeared.

"You ask a lot of questions."

"So do you."

Silence stretched between them.

Neither willing to back down.

Neither willing to leave.

Finally Damian stepped closer.

Not enough to invade her space.

Just enough to make her aware of his presence.

His eyes were gray.

She noticed that now.

Not cold exactly.

More complicated than that.

Like storm clouds before rain.

"You should go home, Miss Knight."

The statement sounded polite.

The warning beneath it did not.

Seraphina lifted her chin.

"Is that an order?"

A hint of amusement appeared.

Barely.

"Advice."

Then he walked away.

Just like that.

Leaving her alone in the hallway.

Confused.

Frustrated.

And strangely unsettled.

Because Damian Blackwood wasn't acting like a guilty man.

He wasn't acting like a murderer.

If anything, he seemed like someone protecting something.

Or someone.

Back inside his office, Damian watched security footage from the hallway.

His assistant stood nearby.

"The new employee again?"

Damian nodded.

"Thoughts?"

The assistant crossed his arms.

"She seems harmless."

Damian stared at the screen.

At the woman standing before the archive door.

Watching.

Thinking.

Searching.

"No," he said quietly.

"She isn't harmless at all."

And for the first time in a long while, Damian Blackwood felt that old instinct returning.

The one that warned him danger was approaching.

The problem was that danger currently answered to the name Sera Knight.