登入*Elena's POV* Michael wanted to come into the meeting with me. I refused before the car stopped. "You're being stubborn." "I am attending a business meeting." "With people who somehow obtained private photographs of your collection." "Which is why you are waiting downstairs." "That logic makes no sense." "It makes perfect sense. If I need you, I call." He looked toward the building entrance. "One hour." "Do not put a timer on my meeting." "One hour and fifteen minutes." I reached for the door. "Michael." "Fine. Call me when you're finished." "I will." "And if anything feels wrong—" "I leave." He nodded. I stepped out before he could add another instruction. Clara met me upstairs and led me into a private conference room where an older woman was already waiting. She stood as I entered. "Ms. Williams. My name is Evelyn Shaw." We shook hands. "Who do you represent?" Clara gave me a warning glance. Evelyn smiled. "You prefer efficiency." "I prefer knowing who has
*Damian's POV* By the time Ethan entered my office, I had already read the latest liquidity report twice and disliked it more the second time. He placed another file in front of me. "Before you react, read the entire thing." "That is never a promising introduction." "I'm serious." I opened it. The first page showed the guarantee supporting one of Cross Group's revolving credit facilities. The second showed the withdrawal notice. The third contained a corporate ownership map. I looked up. "What am I supposed to see?" "The guarantee did not come directly from the anonymous investor. It came through three holding companies." "I know." "We traced the oldest one." "And?" Ethan pointed to the bottom of the page. Williams Holdings. I stared at the name. "Elena." "We don't know that." "Her surname is Williams." "So are the surnames of thousands of people." "You cannot seriously believe this is unrelated." "I believe we need documentation." I pushed back from the desk. "F
*Elena's POV* The first sample dress arrived with one sleeve two inches shorter than the other. I held it up in front of Nadia. "Please tell me this is an artistic decision." She covered her mouth, but her laugh escaped anyway. "The pattern cutter misread the measurement." "By how many inches?" "Two. She was having a difficult morning." "So is this dress." Nadia took it from me. "We can fix it." The next sample had the wrong buttons. The third was almost perfect, which made the fourth one arriving in a completely different shade of green feel personal. By noon, I should have been frustrated. Instead, I was smiling. Nadia noticed. "You enjoy disasters." "I enjoy disasters I can fix." "That sounds specific." "It is." We spent another hour adjusting hems, replacing trims, and discussing production timing. For the first time in years, problems did not feel like traps somebody had built around me. They were ordinary problems with ordinary solutions. When I returned to the
*Damian's POV* I spent most of the night reading my father's files and found just enough information to make ignorance impossible without finding enough to understand what he had done. Elena's name appeared in trust correspondence. Williams Holdings appeared in financial memoranda. There were references to protection, confidentiality, and a private agreement signed years before our wedding. Every useful name beyond those was redacted. By morning, irritation had hardened into certainty. My father and Elena had hidden something from me. Rosalie found me in the study with documents spread across the desk. "You didn't sleep." "I slept." "Changing shirts doesn't count." I looked at her. "Why are you here this early?" "You ignored sixteen calls. I have been calling you since yesterday. " "I was working." She set coffee beside me and picked up one page. I took it from her. "This is private." Her eyebrows rose. "I have seen you naked, Damian." "That does not grant access to
*Elena's POV* Nadia's call followed me all the way home. By the time I stepped into the apartment, I had repeated the stranger's questions so many times that each one sounded worse. Michael was on the phone near the windows. He ended the call when he saw my face. "You're back? What happened?" I placed my portfolio on the table. "Someone contacted Nadia." His expression sharpened. "The production studio? When" "Yesterday." "What did they want?" "Information about me." He came closer. "What information?" "He was asking for my name and other things." When I reached the question about my name, he stopped moving. "Exactly how did she phrase it?" "She said the man asked whether Elena Williams was my real name." "Did she get his number?" "He called the studio line. She said it showed as private." "Voice?" "She said he is a man." "Accent?" "I didn't interrogate her, so I have no idea." "I know." His hand went to his pocket, already reaching for his phone. "Michael." "I
*Damian's POV*Martin Whitmore refused me twice before I stopped asking politely.We were in his office, surrounded by files that had belonged to my father, and the old lawyer dared to look bored by my anger."You represent the Cross family," I said."I represented your father. I represent you. Neither fact gives you unrestricted access to documents Richard deliberately sealed.""He is dead.""His instructions are not.""I am the executor of portions of his estate.""Portions."I leaned forward. "Cross Group is losing access to financing arranged during his lifetime. An anonymous investor has withdrawn support immediately after my divorce, and records show the arrangement began days after my wedding. If my father created this problem, I need to know."Martin removed his glasses and cleaned them with a handkerchief."Your father created many arrangements you never bothered to understand while he was alive.""I was running the company.""You were fighting with him.""Those are not mutua







