CHAPTER SIX: THE INTERVIEW

The lobby of Thorne Industries was all glass and steel. Everything gleamed. Everything looked expensive. My heels clicked against marble floors as I walked to the reception desk.

"Good morning," I said, with a practiced smile. "I'm here for an interview with Mr. Thorne."

The woman behind the desk looked up immediately. Her makeup was flawless, not a single hair out of place. She smiled, friendly and professional and somehow made me feel a little nervous.

"Of course," she said. "You must be Ms. Vale?"

"Yes," I nodded, holding my file a little tighter.

"Mr. Thorne will see you shortly," she said. "Can I get you anything while you wait? Water? Coffee?"

"No, thank you."

"Alright," she said, her smile never faltering. "Please, have a seat. You'll meet him shortly."

I walked to the waiting area and sat in a leather chair that was too soft. My hands rested on my lap. Still. Calm. Aurora used to bite her nails. Reina Vale didn't bite her nails.

Magazines were spread across the glass table. Business magazines with sleek covers. Then I saw it. Forbes. Adrian's face stared back at me. He wore a dark suit and looked powerful. Untouchable. The headline read: *Billionaire CEO Adrian Thorne: Building an Empire After a Tragic Loss.*

After a tragic loss?

My chest tightened. I picked up the magazine and opened it. The article showed pictures of him at charity events, board meetings, looking devastated but strong. They talked about how he lost his fiancée in a tragic break-in. How he channeled his grief into growing his company. How he started a foundation in Aurora Winters' name.

A foundation. In my name?

My thumb pressed hard against the glossy page.

"He's really amazing, isn't he?"

I looked up. The receptionist was watching me, her expression soft.

"Mr. Thorne," she continued. "What he went through… losing someone he loved like that. And he still shows up every day, works harder than anyone. He's inspiring."

I forced a smile. "He certainly seems dedicated."

"He is. Everyone here loves him." She leaned in slightly, like she was sharing a secret. "He never talks about it, you know. About what happened. But you can see it in his eyes sometimes. The sadness."

My stomach twisted. I closed the magazine and set it back on the table.

The sadness. Right. The sadness of a man who murdered his fiancée and got away with it.

"Ms. Vale?"

A woman in her forties appeared, holding a tablet. She wore a sharp gray suit and her expression was all business.

"I'm Patricia, Mr. Thorne's executive coordinator," she said. "He's ready for you now."

I stood, smoothing down my black pencil skirt. My hands weren't shaking. I wouldn't let them shake.

"Thank you."

I followed Patricia down a long hallway. The walls were covered with framed achievements. Awards. Magazine covers. Pictures of Adrian shaking hands with senators, CEOs, celebrities. Adrian cutting ribbons. Adrian giving speeches.

Adrian Thorne. Billionaire. Philanthropist. Murderer.

We stopped at a frosted glass door.

"He'll be with you in just a moment," Patricia said. Then she opened the door and gestured for me to enter.

The conference room took my breath away. Floor-to-ceiling windows showed off the entire Manhattan skyline. The table was massive, dark wood that probably cost more than a car. And in the center sat a crystal vase filled with white roses.

White roses.

My hand went to my chest before I could stop it. I felt the ring underneath my blouse, hanging on its chain, pressing against the scar his bullet left.

I walked to the table and sat down. Placed my hands flat on the smooth surface. Breathed in through my nose. Out through my mouth. One. Two. Three.

The door opened.

Adrian Thorne walked in.

Time stopped.

He was right there. Three feet away. Real. Solid. Alive.

My heart slammed against my ribs so hard I thought it might break through. Blood rushed in my ears. For a second, I couldn't breathe. Couldn't think. Couldn't do anything but stare.

He wore a navy suit that fit him perfectly. His dark hair was shorter than I remembered, styled back. His jaw was clean-shaven. Those green eyes—Leo's eyes—scanned the room before landing on me.

And in that moment, everything came flooding back.

His hands in my hair. His laugh against my neck. The way he used to wake me up with coffee and kisses. The way he proposed, crying, telling me I was his whole world.

The way he stood over me while I bled out on our bedroom floor.

"Ms. Vale."

His voice hit me like a physical blow. Deep. Warm. Familiar.

He smiled and extended his hand.

I stood. My legs felt like water but they held me up. I reached across the table and shook his hand.

His palm was warm. His grip firm. His thumb brushed across my knuckles, just once, barely noticeable.

My skin crawled.

"Thank you for coming in," he said, still smiling. "Please, sit."

We both sat down. He pulled a folder toward him—my fake resume—and opened it.

I watched his face. Watched for any sign of recognition. Any hint that he knew. That he suspected.

Nothing.

His expression was polite. Professional.

He had no idea who I was.

Two years. Two years of planning. Two years of destroying Aurora Winters and building Reina Vale from scratch.

And it worked.

"Northwestern. Six years as an executive assistant at Henderson & Associates," he said, scanning the page. "Impressive recommendations."

"Thank you."

"Why are you leaving?"

"The managing partner I worked for is retiring," I said smoothly. "After six years, I can't imagine starting over with someone new there. It felt like the right time for a change."

He nodded. "What interests you about working here?"

"You're building something that matters. At a law firm, you're always reacting to problems. Here, you're creating solutions."

His eyebrow lifted slightly. "Most people just say they want to work for a successful company."

"I'm not most people."

A flicker of interest crossed his face. He leaned back, fingers pressed together under his chin. That gesture. The same one he used to make.

I dug my nails into my palms.

"The role requires long hours, discretion, handling both professional and personal matters," he said. "Can you handle that?"

"Yes. That's exactly what I did before."

"Give me an example of a time you anticipated a problem."

I launched into the story Marcus and I rehearsed. Quick. Clean. Believable.

He listened, asked a few more questions. I answered each one perfectly.

Finally, he closed the folder.

"I've interviewed several people," he said. "Most have more corporate experience. But there's something about you." He paused. "You're direct. Confident. I think you'd be right for this."

My pulse jumped.

"The job is yours if you want it. Can you start Monday?"

I stood, extending my hand. "Monday works perfectly."

He shook my hand. His grip tightened slightly. His thumb brushed my knuckles again.

"Welcome to Thorne Industries, Ms. Vale."

"Please. Call me Reina."

"Reina," he repeated, testing the name. "Looking forward to working with you."

"Same here."

Patricia appeared, talking about paperwork. Adrian walked me to the elevator.

The doors opened. I stepped inside and turned.

For just a second, his expression changed. His eyes narrowed, like he was trying to remember something.

My heart stopped.

Then it passed. He smiled.

"See you Monday, Reina."

"See you Monday, Mr. Thorne."

The doors closed.

I was alone.

My reflection stared back from the steel walls. Dark bronde hair. Hazel eyes. Sharp black suit.

I didn't look like Aurora Winters anymore.

The elevator descended. My hand pressed against the ring hidden under my blouse. The metal was warm. The diamond dug into my scar.

The doors opened.

I pulled out my phone.

*I'm in.*

Three dots appeared.

*Be careful.*

I walked through the glass doors into afternoon sunlight. New York moved around me. Taxis. People. Noise.

My phone buzzed. A photo from the babysitter. Leo, laughing, hands reaching for the camera. Those green eyes bright and happy.

I stopped on the sidewalk.

My baby. My son.

He had his father's eyes but he'd never have his father's cruelty.

I looked back at Thorne Industries. Glass and steel stretching into the sky. Adrian was up there somewhere, already forgetting the new assistant he just hired.

He had no idea.

I saved the photo. Slipped my phone away. Pressed the ring against my chest.

Monday was five days away.

I started walking. By the time I reached the subway, my heart had stopped racing.

I descended into the crowd. Nobody. Just another person going home.

The train pulled in, brakes squealing.

I found a seat by the window. The doors closed. The train moved into darkness.

City lights blurred past. Somewhere up there, Adrian was still free.

Not for long.