Chapter 2 - THE FILE

For a moment, Celine forgot how to breathe.

The black file felt heavier than normal.

Her eyes remained locked on the gold imprints stamped across the first page.

SEBASTIAN WOLFE.

Her father's name.

Ten years.

Ten years of searching, digging, surviving, and somehow she had found the first real piece of him hidden inside Adrian Kane's private study.

The storm rattled the windows.

Thunder growled somewhere beyond the mansion walls. Celine swallowed hard and opened the file. The first photograph nearly made her drop it.

Her father.

Not the polished businessman from magazine covers. Not the confident man she had remembered.

This Sebastian Wolfe looked exhausted.

His suit hung loosely from his frame. Dark circles shadowed his eyes.The date in the corner made her stomach churn.

Three days before his death.

"What the fuck..."

She turned the page.

Financial records.

Bank transfers.

Corporate statements.

Handwritten notes.

Her pulse raced uncontrollably.

Some of the documents looked familiar. They matched the evidence used to destroy the Wolfe empire.

But others….

Others didn't make sense.

A yellow sticky note was attached to one page. The handwriting was sharp, angular and deliberate.

Adrian's handwriting.

But the timeline doesn't match.

Celine froze.

Another page.

A Security footage.

But the CD that was supposed to be inside it was missing.

A chill crawled down her spine.

These weren't the notes of someone hiding a crime. They were the notes of someone trying to solve one. The realization disturbed her far more than it should have.

No.

There had to be another explanation.

Adrian Kane wasn't some hero.

He was Victor Kane's son.

The man had built an empire on the ruins of hers.

So why was he trying to get to the bottom of this. Just like her.

She flipped through more pages.

News articles.

Police reports.

More Photographs.

Every single document connected to Sebastian Wolfe's death.

And every few pages, Adrian's handwriting appeared.

Questions.

Corrections.

Observations.

Doubts.

Almost as though he had spent years investigating the case secretly.

WHY?

The question lodged itself inside her mind like a splinter.

Why would he care?

A sudden creak echoed from somewhere in the hallway.

Celine stiffened.

Her gaze snapped toward the study door.

Silence.

Her breathing became shallow.

Maybe it was nothing.

Then—

Footsteps.

Coming closer.

Her blood turned to ice.

The hallway floorboards groaned once.

Then again.

Someone was approaching.

And fast.

"Oh God."

She shoved the file back into the drawer.

The footsteps grew louder.

No time.

The drawer slammed shut.

Celine ducked behind one of the towering bookshelves just as the study door clicked open.

Warm amber light from the hallway spilled into the room.

A familiar voice followed.

"Leave us."

Adrian.

The words struck her like a physical blow.

A second voice answered immediately.

"Of course, sir."

The door closed.

Silence settled.

Celine pressed herself against the bookshelf.

She could hear every beat of her heart.

Every breath.

Every movement.

Adrian was alone.

The worst possible outcome.

Slow footsteps crossed the room.

Measured.

Unhurried.

Deliberate.

Like a predator entering territory he already owned.

The scent of whiskey and sandalwood drifted through the air.

Closer.

Closer.

Celine squeezed her eyes shut.

If he found her—

The study suddenly became too small.

Too quiet.

Too dangerous.

She heard the soft clink of glass.

A drawer opening.

Closing.

Then nothing.

Seconds passed.

Then a minute.

What was he doing?

Curiosity became impossible to ignore.

Carefully, she shifted her position enough to peer through a narrow gap between books.

Adrian stood beside the desk.

One hand rested against the polished wood.

The other held a crystal glass.

He wasn't working.

He wasn't reading.

He wasn't even moving.

He was staring at the exact drawer she had just searched.

A strange expression crossed his face.

Not anger.

Not arrogance.

Something darker.

Something heavier.

Regret.

The realization unsettled her.

Then he spoke.

"So."

Celine froze.

His voice was calm.

Dangerously calm.

"You've been following me all evening.”

Every muscle in her body locked.

NO.

Impossible.

He couldn't know.

Could he?

Silence.

The storm raged on.

Adrian took another sip of whiskey.

"I have a question."

Still he didn't look toward the bookshelf.

Still he stared at the desk.

"Are you naturally curious..."

His voice dropped.

"...or did you just want my attention?"

Celine felt her stomach drop.

He knew.

He absolutely knew.

The room suddenly felt colder than normal.

Run.

The thought exploded through her head.

Run now.

Before he—

"Come out."

Her breath caught.

No anger.

No shouting.

No threat.

That somehow made it worse.

Slowly, Celine stepped from behind the bookshelf.

The moment Adrian saw her, something unreadable flashed through his eyes.

Recognition.

Interest.

Suspicion.

All at once.

All three vanished almost instantly.

He leaned back against the desk.

"You."

A corner of his mouth twitched.

"You're becoming a habit."

Heat rushed into her cheeks despite the situation.

Ridiculous.

She should have been terrified.

Instead she was painfully aware of how close he stood. Too close.

Of how those storm-gray eyes seemed capable of seeing through her anxious body.

His gaze dropped briefly to her hands.

Empty.

Then returned to her face.

"What exactly were you looking for?"

His question hung between them.

Celine forced herself to meet his stare.

"A bathroom."

One dark eyebrow lifted.

"The lock-picking bathroom?"

DAMN.

The hairpin.

Of course he had noticed.

The silence stretched between them.

Then unexpectedly—

He laughed.

A low, rough growl.

The last thing she expected.

"Are you that bad at lieing."

Celine hated how the sound affected her.

Hated the strange warmth it created.

Hated him.

Most of all, she hated herself for noticing anything at all.

"I got lost."

"Inside my private study?"

His eyes narrowed.

For a moment they simply stared at each other.

A challenge.

A battle.

Neither willing to blink first.

The storm crashed against the windows.

Lightning flashed.

The room brightened.

And suddenly Adrian moved.

One step towards her.

That's all.

Yet the distance between them vanished instantly.

Celine's pulse jumped.

He was too close.

Far too close.

Close enough for her to see tiny flecks of silver hidden inside his gray eyes.

Close enough to feel the heat radiating from him.

Close enough it felt dangerous.

"You know what's interesting?" he murmured.

"What?"

"You don't behave like a waitress."

Her throat tightened.

Every instinct screamed at her to remain calm.

"People surprise you."

"They do."

His gaze sharpened.

"Especially when they know how to pick locks."

A dangerous silence followed.

Then—

"You've been watching me."

Not a question.

A statement.

Celine's pulse raced.

He noticed.

Of course he noticed.

Men like Adrian Kane noticed everything.

"I watch everyone."

"Not like you watch me."

The words landed harder than they should have.

For one impossible second, neither looked away.

The air thickened.

The storm disappeared.

The world disappeared.

There was only this strange, volatile connection neither of them understood.

Then a loud knock shattered the moment.

Both turned.

The study door opened before Adrian could answer.

A security guard entered.

"Sir."

The man's face looked pale.

Uneasy.

Something was wrong.

Adrian's expression hardened instantly.

"What is it?"

The guard swallowed.

"We found someone attempting to access the west wing security network."

Every nerve in Celine's body screamed.

No. No. No.

The guard continued.

"We recovered the footage."

Adrian's eyes darkened.

"What footage?"

The guard hesitated.

Then handed him a tablet.

"The footage from outside this study."

Celine's blood ran cold.

Because she already knew what the cameras would show.

A waitress.

A forged identity.

A lockpick.

Breaking into Adrian Kane's private office.

Slowly, Adrian looked down at the screen.

The room became deathly silent.

Then—

His gaze lifted from the tablet.

And locked directly onto hers.

"Interesting."

The single word was soft.

Deadly.

And somehow far more frightening than anger.

Because for the first time all night...

Adrian Kane looked like a man who had just found exactly what he had been searching for.