Chapter eight

Darian had stared at the same line on his screen for nearly ten minutes without registering a single number.

 

The office was quiet, sealed off from the rest of the building by glass and authority. The hum of the air-conditioning, the distant city noise below, the subtle ticking of the wall clock, none of it usually bothered him. Today, it all felt intrusive.

 

He closed the financial report with a sharp swipe.

 

Bella Morrison’s face surfaced in his mind again, uninvited and unwelcome. Not the woman from that night.

 

The one standing in his office earlier, spine straight, eyes burning through humiliation, voice shaking but defiant.

 

He disliked loose ends.

 

And she had become one.

 

Darian leaned back in his chair, exhaling slowly, then leaned forward again and opened the internal system. His fingers moved with practiced precision, bypassing layers of security without hesitation.

 

Human Resources, Employment Files.

 

Bella Morrison.

 

The file opened.

 

He told himself he was only doing this to confirm what he already knew.

 

The file disagreed immediately.

 

Name: Isabella Morrison.

Education: Bachelor’s degree with honors.

Institution: Reputable. Competitive. Expensive.

 

His eyes narrowed.

 

Scholarships, the file continued. Academic merit. Financial aid. No parental sponsorship listed.

 

“So you didn’t buy your way in,” he muttered quietly.

 

He scrolled.

 

Internships during school. Consistent. No unexplained gaps. No inflated titles. No sudden promotions handed down by influence.

 

He paused.

 

Most applicants exaggerated. Everyone is polished. Bella’s file didn’t try too hard. It was almost… restrained.

 

Work experience followed. Entry-level roles that grew steadily. Performance reviews attached, stamped and signed.

 

“Reliable,” one read.

“Quick learner,” another said.

“Shows initiative but respects hierarchy.”

 

Hierarchy.

 

The word snagged his attention.

 

“You respect it,” he said aloud, brows drawing together. “Yet you challenged me.”

 

He continued scrolling, irritation building, not because the file disappointed him, but because it didn’t.

 

No scandals.

 

No internal complaints.

 

No disciplinary warnings.

 

He reached the background check.

 

Clean.

 

Uncomfortably clean.

 

No arrests. No lawsuits. No NDAs quietly buried. No settlements disguised as exits.

 

Darian straightened slowly in his chair.

 

“That doesn’t fit,” he said.

 

The file, of course, said nothing back. It simply sat there, unbothered, factual, indifferent to his expectations.

 

He scrolled again, more carefully this time.

 

References.

 

Professional. Polite. Almost cautious.

 

“She doesn’t manipulate,” one former supervisor had written. “If anything, she takes responsibility too easily.”

 

Darian scoffed under his breath. “That’s not a strength in this world.”

 

Yet something about the comment stayed with him.

 

He leaned forward, elbows on the desk, eyes scanning each line as if the words might rearrange themselves if he looked long enough.

 

“So explain it to me,” he said quietly, addressing the screen as though it were sentient. “Explain how someone like you ends up where you did.”

 

The file remained silent.

 

He remembered her standing in front of his desk, insisting she had earned the job. At the time, he had dismissed it as desperation masquerading as dignity.

 

Now, the file backed her up.

 

Every approval was timestamped. Every signature is legitimate. HR had followed procedure to the letter.

 

She hadn’t forced her way in.

 

She hadn’t known.

 

The realization settled in his chest like an unwelcome weight.

 

Darian pushed back from the desk and stood, walking toward the window. The city stretched endlessly below, alive and indifferent. Power usually comforted him. Today, it felt distant.

 

“She didn’t plan it,” he said to himself.

 

The thought irritated him more than if she had.

 

If she had schemed, he could categorize her. Discard her. File her under familiar mistakes.

 

But this—

 

This was a chance.

 

And Darian Blackwood hated chance.

 

He returned to the desk and scrolled back up, reading aloud now, his voice low and controlled.

 

“Top ten percent of her graduating class. Recommended for leadership development. Described as ethical to a fault.”

 

He paused, jaw tightening.

 

“Ethical,” he repeated.

 

The word felt almost accusatory.

 

He remembered the way she had looked at him when he accused her of intentional exposure. Not guilt. Not fear.

 

Shock.

 

And then anger.

 

“You argued with me,” he said quietly. “In my office. After everything.”

 

His fingers curled slightly against the edge of the desk.

 

Most people begged. Others cried. Some tried to bargain.

 

Bella had demanded fairness.

 

That alone unsettled him.

 

He flipped to the final page of the file.

 

Hiring decision.

 

Approved.

 

Start date: Today.

 

Termination status: Pending.

 

He stared at the word pending.

 

He hadn’t officially fired her, he had simply removed her.

 

The distinction mattered more than he liked.

 

Darian closed the file but didn’t exit the system. His reflection stared back at him from the darkened screen, controlled, composed, and faintly displeased.

 

“You’re becoming a distraction,” he told himself.

 

Bella wasn’t the first woman to disrupt his routine. She wouldn’t be the last.

 

So why did this feel different?

 

He reopened the file one last time, scrolling back to the top.

 

Bella Morrison.

 

Not a scandal and not  manipulation.

 

Not ambition disguised as vulnerability.

 

Just a woman who had walked into the wrong office at the wrong time.

 

And challenged the wrong man.

 

Darian exhaled sharply . He hated to admit that she wasn't what he thought she was…but he will keep a close eye on her.

 

He reached for his phone.

 

The weight of it in his hand felt heavier than usual.

 

One call.

 

That was all it would take to reassert order, to correct the imbalance, to decide exactly how this would proceed.

 

His thumb hovered over the screen.

 

He didn’t hesitate again.

 

He lifted the phone.

 

And pressed call.