Elena's POV
My heart pounds so hard I'm sure he can hear it across the empty conference room.
Damien still hasn't moved. He stands at the head of the table like a king surveying his kingdom, hands casually in his pockets, but there's nothing casual about the way he's looking at me.
Like I'm a puzzle he's finally figured out how to solve.
Mr. Cross, I force the words past my tight throat. I didn't know about the acquisition. If I had known
You would have what? He tilts his head, genuinely curious. Not applied? Run to another city? Changed your name again?
Again. The word hits like a slap. He knows I've been hiding. Of course he knows.
I can submit my resignation, I say quickly. Effective immediately. You'll never have to see me
No.
The single word cracks through the air like a whip.
He moves then—pushing off from the table and walking toward me with slow, deliberate steps. Each footfall echoes in the silent room. I want to back up, put distance between us, but my legs won't cooperate.
You accepted a position at this company, Damien says, his voice soft and dangerous. You signed a contract. You'll fulfill it.
That's not fair. I didn't know
Fair? He laughs, but there's no humor in it. You want to talk about fair, Elena? Let's discuss how fair it was when you stole my company's code. When you sold it to my biggest competitor. When you destroyed everything I built and then vanished without a single explanation.
Each accusation is a knife to my chest. I want to scream the truth—that it wasn't me, that I was protecting him, that I sacrificed everything for his family.
But I can't. Marcus's secret is still locked in my throat, choking me.
I'm sorry, I whisper, because it's the only thing I can say.
Sorry. He stops three feet away, close enough that I can smell his cologne. The same one he wore three years ago. The scent makes my chest ache with memories of lazy Sunday mornings and whispered promises. Do you know what sorry doesn't fix? Bankrupt companies. Ruined reputations. Employees who lost their jobs because the woman I trusted betrayed me.
Tears burn behind my eyes, but I blink them back. I don't have the right to cry.
Then let me go, I say. You don't want me here. I don't want to be here. Just
Oh, but I do want you here. He takes another step closer. Now he's so near I have to tilt my head back to meet his eyes. See, I spent three years wondering why. Why you did it. Why you ran. Why you never even tried to explain.
His hand comes up, and I flinch. But he doesn't touch me. Just reaches past me to close the blinds on the conference room window with a soft click. The room suddenly feels smaller. More intimate.
I hired investigators, he continues conversationally, like we're discussing the weather instead of my betrayal. None of them could find you. You disappeared completely. New name, new city, new life. Very thorough.
Damien
Mr. Cross, he corrects sharply. In this building, you call me Mr. Cross.
The formality hurts worse than his anger.
Mr. Cross, I force myself to say. Please. I need this job, but not if it means
You need this job? His eyebrows rise. Interesting. Why? What happened to the money you got from selling my secrets? Helix Corp paid well, didn't they?
I never took money from Helix Corp!
Then where did you go? What have you been doing for three years?
I can't answer that. Can't tell him about the waitressing jobs, the cramped studio apartments, the nights I went to bed hungry because Mom's medical bills ate every penny.
My silence seems to confirm something for him. His jaw tightens.
Here's what's going to happen, Damien says, his voice dropping to that velvet tone I used to love. Now it just sounds threatening. You start work tomorrow. Sixth floor, special projects team. You'll report directly to me.
That's not
Necessary? Professional? He smiles, and it's terrifying. You're absolutely right. But I own this company, Elena. Which means I make the rules. And my rule is that you work under my direct supervision until I decide otherwise.
He circles me slowly, like a predator studying prey. I force myself to stand still, even though every instinct screams to run.
I'm going to watch you, he says from behind me, his voice close to my ear. Every project. Every meeting. Every decision. You'll be so close I'll know what you're thinking before you think it.
Why? I turn to face him, frustration breaking through fear. If you hate me so much, why not just fire me? Why this?
For a moment, something flickers in his eyes. Something that might be pain or might be longing. Then it's gone.
Because you owe me answers, he says simply. And I always collect my debts.
He walks past me toward the door. I think this nightmare conversation is finally over.
Then he pauses, hand on the doorknob.
Oh, and Elena? Don't even think about running. I found you once. I'll find you again. And next time? He glances back over his shoulder. I won't be so welcoming.
The door opens. He steps out into the hallway where normal people are living normal lives, completely unaware that my world just shattered.
I stand frozen in the conference room, shaking.
This is bad. So much worse than I imagined. Damien doesn't just want me gone—he wants revenge. He wants to torture me slowly, professionally, until I break and tell him everything.
And when I do break, when the truth about Marcus comes out, it won't just destroy me.
It'll destroy Damien too.
My phone buzzes. I pull it out with trembling hands.
A text from an unknown number: Welcome back, Elena. We need to talk. Tonight. Don't tell Damien. -M
Marcus.
The brother I protected. The man whose secret I've carried for three years.
The person who should be thanking me is threatening me instead.
I stare at the message, my blood running cold, as one horrifying realization crashes over me:
Coming back wasn't just walking into Damien's trap.
I walked into a war zone.
And I'm unarmed, outmatched, and completely alone.