Chapter 4

Jonathan’s POV

The new analyst was strange. I noticed it almost immediately, but I didn’t say anything at first. I’ve been running companies long enough to know that first impressions can be wrong. People act differently when they’re nervous, when they’re trying to prove themselves. New hires especially.

But Elena Rivers wasn’t nervous..That was the first thing about her that stood out. In her first week, she sat in meetings like she belonged there. Not like someone grateful just to have a seat at the table. She didn’t shrink, or nod blindly. Neither did she smile too much or laugh at jokes that weren’t funny, just to patronize the teaser.

Most junior analysts spent their first month silent, taking notes, and adjusting to the pace of the organization. But for her, it felt like she just eased in. She spoke only when she had something useful to say, and when she did, people paid attention, whether they wanted to or not, because she always sounded so smart that you didn’t want to miss out on anything.

During one of the strategy meetings we held, Marcus had been presenting projections for our Asia expansion. He’d been with the company eight years. He was smart enough and very reliable. But in that particular meeting, he was halfway through his slides when Elena spoke.

“Mr. Hart, these numbers don’t account for currency fluctuation in the Asian markets,” she said calmly. “If the yen keeps weakening at its current rate, this projection is off by at least fifteen percent.”

The room went quiet. Ern I could feel the tension. I’d already noticed the mistake. I always did. I just wanted to see if anyone else would catch it. And for the first time, someone did. Or maybe someone was bold enough to blatantly point it out.

Marcus stiffened. “I was going to address that in my follow-up—”

“I think it’s better you address it now,” Elena said, politely but firmly. “Or else, we’ll risk making decisions based on incomplete data.”

Marcus looked like he wanted to snap back, but I cut in before he could embarrass himself further.

“That’ll be all for now, Miss Rivers,” I said. “Marcus, I think you should revise the projections and have them on my desk by tomorrow morning.” Marcus nodded tightly, and remained quiet.

The meeting moved on, but I kept an eye on Elena. She went back to listening like nothing had happened, till the meeting ended.

Afterward, Patricia came into my office.

“The new girl is bold,” she said.

“She’s thorough,” I replied, still reading through notes.

“She’s stepping on toes. Marcus doesn’t appreciate being corrected by someone who’s been here five days.”

“Then Marcus should do better work.”

Patricia paused, then left without another word. But she wasn’t wrong.

Elena was bold. Too bold for her position. She stayed after meetings to ask sound follow-up questions. She stopped by my office with reports she thought I should see, even though the company structure said everything should go through her supervisor first.

“Mr. Hart, do you have a minute?”

She always asked from the doorway.

I should have told her to follow protocol. I should have shut it down early. Instead, I’d wave her in. Part of it was curiosity. Part of it was efficiency. She always brought me something worth my time. Whether it was an error buried deep in a contract clause, or a competitor quietly unloading assets, or a trend no one else had flagged yet, I just knew I would get something useful after a personal meeting with her.

One afternoon, she came in with a file on a biotech company I vaguely recognized.

“They filed for bankruptcy protection last week,” she said. “Their IP portfolio is strong. The patents alone are worth at least three times their current valuation.”

“How did you find this?” I asked.

“I set alerts for companies in distress with valuable intellectual property,” she said. “Most people ignore them once they hear ‘bankruptcy.’”

“And you think we should acquire them?”

“I think you should look at them. If even one of their drug candidates makes it through phase three, the return would be massive.”

“You’ve thought this through.”

“I wouldn’t bring it to you if I hadn’t.” That was what buzzed me about her. She never wasted my time. But if I’m being honest, there was something else too. Something harder to place.

The way she held eye contact a beat longer than necessary. The way her hand brushed mine when she passed documents—very slightly though but just enough to notice. The way she dressed. It was always professional and very appropriate. But it had this subtle allure.

One night, we had both stayed late working on follow-ups from the Meridian deal. It was after nine when we ended up alone in the elevator, heading down to the parking garage.

“Long day,” she said.

“Every day is long in this business.”

“Do you ever take time off?” she asked. “Vacation? Hobbies?”

“Work is my hobby.”

She smiled. “That’s sad, Mr. Hart.” Everyday, her boldness surprised me.

“Is it?”

“Everyone needs something outside of work. Something that reminds them they’re human.”

The doors opened. We walked toward our cars. Hers was a modest sedan, parked a few spaces away from my Mercedes.

“What about you?” I asked. “Outside of work?”

“Not much,” she admitted. “Gym. Reading. That’s about it.”

“That’s sad, Miss Rivers.” I said and she laughed.

“Touché.”

She unlocked her car, then turned back to me.

“Mr. Hart?”

“Yes?”

“Thank you. For giving me a chance here.” I smiled in awe.

“You earned it.”

“Still. Thank you.”

She held my gaze for a moment longer than necessary, then got in her car and drove away. I stood there longer than I should have, watching her taillights disappear.

That night, I couldn’t shake off the feeling of knowing her better than she presented herself at the company. I sat in my home office with a glass of scotch and reopened her resume.

“Five years at Goldman Sachs. I left two years ago. Personal reasons.”

I don’t pry into employees’ private lives. What they do outside work isn’t my concern. But I couldn’t tell the strong urge to deal with Miss Rivers’s case differently. So I opened a browser tab and typed her name into G****e.

At first, everything looked normal. LinkedIn. Old press mentions. Industry chatter.

Then I scrolled. And a headline stopped me.

“Viral Video Scandal: Goldman Sachs Analyst’s Fiancé Caught Cheating Days Before Wedding.”

I clicked and saw her younger self, smiling at the camera. The article detailed how a video of her fiancé with another woman had surfaced online three days before their wedding. The other woman was her maid of honor. I read it all.

Then I saw the name of the fiance, and my blood ran colder. Daniel Hart, my own son. I sat back, staring at the screen.

Daniel and I barely spoke. Actually we hadn’t spoken in years, ever since I wrongfully divorced his mother only to discover she had died a few months later. He blamed me. And I stopped trying to correct him.

I didn’t even know he was engaged, until I heard it through office gossip. I felt a brief sting at not being invited, but as usual I buried it under work. And then later, I’d heard the wedding was called off. Patricia had mentioned it once. I hadn’t asked questions. Now everything made sense.

Elena Rivers hadn’t come to Hart Global for a job. She’d obviously come for revenge. She was using me to get to my son. To hurt him the way he’d hurt her. Maybe she planned to seduce me. Maybe she planned something worse.

I should have been furious. I should have fired her immediately. Instead, I was fascinated. The woman in those articles looked broken. The woman in my office was controlled and firm. She did a good job on herself, I must commend, for a woman that broken. But it was quite ludicrous that she thought she could play me.

I smiled into my glass. Monday morning, I’d say nothing. I’d let her continue. Let her believe she was in control. And when the time came, I’d let the game decide who the winner was, as it always did.