All Chapters of The Blind CEO Who Sees Through Me: Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

Trust is earned, even when survival is at stake.Two weeks laterSophiaI’m nervous. Blackwood Enterprises is nothing like I imagined. It’s more than that.The building towers over the city like it owns it. Sleek black glass panels reflect the morning sun, blinding and cold—just like the reputation of the man who runs it.My palms are damp, and my lips feel dry from constant licking.I force myself to find composure. Two months. That’s all I have.I inhale deeply, adjust the strap of my bag, and step through the revolving doors, forcing my breathing to slow. The lobby is vast—polished marble floors, lush furniture, quiet voices echoing softly. Everything about this place screams power. Precision. Control.The sharp click of heels echoes across the bright space. Employees in expensive corporate attire move with purpose. Everyone seems to belong here.I don’t. But I have to.I approach the receptionist, who greets me with a warm smile.“Good morning. How can I help you?”“I’m here for t

Control begins to slip when unexpected integrity refuses to bend.DesmondPeople assume darkness is my weakness. They are wrong.The real weakness is doubt. And tonight, it sits across from me in the form of a rejected partnership contract.I clench my fists, frustrated, trying not to dwell on it. It's late. I can tell from the humidity. The temperature has dropped slightly—the air conditioning adjusting to evening mode. The traffic outside slows, but here I am with no intention of leaving anytime soon. Most of my staff have gone home; their footsteps faded one by one an hour ago. But I remain because my work has just begun.Furiously, I type on my laptop, suppressing the pain in my hands, trying to distract my mind from the failed proposal I received—a deal with Ardent Global Holdings. International. Ruthless. Selective. And their CEO thinks I am a liability. Not because my company lacks profit. Not because my strategies fail. But because I cannot see.My jaw tightens. In five years,

I couldn’t slow my ragged breathing or stop my fingers from trembling as I tightly gripped the threatening note in front of me. This note. How could this be here? Thousands of thoughts raced through my mind as I tried to unravel this mess. Whoever did this had either skillfully broken in or, even worse… they worked here. The thought alone left me visibly shaken. That made everything so much worse. But how did they know where to find me? How did they know I would reach for the drawer and find this? What if someone else had found it first? No… no. That didn’t make it any better. I glanced at the threatening note one more time and furiously crumpled it in my hands. The image of Mum lying lifeless and helpless invaded my mind. No. No. No. That can’t happen. I promised everything would be better from here. So why does it keep getting worse? Panic intensified as I gripped my hair, tugging at my scalp, but I didn’t care. If someone here was working for Adrian Vale, then I was

The conference room was quiet when I stepped inside. The long glass table reflected the soft morning light coming through the floor-to-ceiling windows, and the faint hum of the projector was the only sound filling the space. I placed a stack of files carefully on the table and glanced at the clock on the wall. Forty-eight minutes until the meeting. The work team would probably start arriving in about thirty minutes. The investors would follow soon after that. I wasn't even the one presenting, but after what happened yesterday, I didn't want anything to go wrong. I walked toward the projector, plugging in the flash drive that held the presentation slides. The blue screen flickered to life. Good. I began arranging the documents across the table: one copy for each investor, one for Mr. Blackwood, and one for the presenter. Reeves. He was the one who had struggled through yesterday's presentation while Mr. Harrington questioned every number he showed. Hopefully, today would go

(Desmond’s POV)The building grows quieter as the evening deepens.Most of the staff have already left, their footsteps and conversations fading hours ago. What remains now is the low hum of the central ventilation system and the occasional distant sound of an elevator sliding open somewhere along the far corridors.Inside my office, the air smells faintly of polished wood and freshly printed paper.My fingers move across the keyboard with steady precision.Typing has long become instinctual. I do not need to see the keys. Years of habit have trained my hands to move exactly where they should.The document I am reviewing is a quarterly performance report from the marketing department. Numbers, projections, market analysis. Important, though not particularly interesting.I pause briefly.“Time.”A soft chime answers me.My watch responds in a calm digital voice.“Eight forty-seven p.m.”Later than I intended.Not surprising.Work has always been easier once the office empties. Fewer in