Ethan's POV
Ethan Blackwood adjusted his cufflinks as the elevator ascended to the top floor of the Blackwood Foundation headquarters. The mirrored walls reflected a version of himself he barely recognized anymore—immaculate suit, sharp jawline, cold eyes. Beneath the polish and power lay a man haunted by shadows no amount of success could erase.
The elevator chimed, and the doors slid open, revealing the lavish penthouse office. Glass walls provided a sweeping view of New York City, its lights twinkling like stars against the dark sky. The illusion of control, Ethan thought bitterly. From up here, it was easy to forget the grit and desperation lurking in the streets below.
Daniel Reed, his assistant, stood by the conference table with a tablet in hand. "The press gala starts in an hour. The guest list has been vetted, and security is in place. You'll be presenting the annual report, and then you'll meet with key donors."
Ethan nodded, his mind already drifting. These events were routine, but tonight felt different. A sense of foreboding coiled in his gut, an instinct honed from years of keeping secrets.
"Anything else?" he asked, his tone clipped.
Daniel hesitated. "There's a journalist attending—Sophia Hart. She's been making waves lately with her exposés on corporate corruption. She's... tenacious."
Ethan's lips curled into a faint smirk. "Let her dig. She'll find what I want her to find."
Daniel didn't look convinced, but Ethan dismissed him with a wave. Alone, he walked to the window, staring out at the city. Ten years had passed since the night that changed everything. Ten years of burying the truth beneath layers of wealth and power. But secrets had a way of surfacing, and Ethan knew better than to underestimate fate.
The gala was a spectacle of wealth and influence. Chandeliers cast golden light over the ballroom, where New York's elite mingled in designer gowns and tailored suits. Ethan moved through the crowd with practiced ease, exchanging pleasantries and handshakes. Every smile was calculated, every word deliberate.
Across the room, he spotted her.
Sophia Hart didn't belong here, not really. She wore a sleek black dress that clung to her in all the right places, her auburn hair swept to one side. She stood out, not because of her beauty—though she was undeniably striking—but because of the way she carried herself. Confident, observant, as if she saw through the glitz and glamour to the truth beneath.
Ethan's chest tightened. He recognized that look. He'd worn it himself once, before life taught him the cost of chasing truth.
Their eyes met.
Sophia's gaze was steady, unflinching, but there was a flicker of something else—curiosity, perhaps? She raised her champagne glass in a silent toast, a hint of challenge in her smile.
Ethan approached, his movements deliberate. "Ms. Hart, I presume?"
She tilted her head. "Mr. Blackwood. Quite the event you've put together. It must be exhausting, keeping up appearances."
Her words were a subtle jab, but Ethan's smile didn't falter. "Appearances matter in my line of work. But I'm sure you know that. After all, your reputation precedes you."
"Does it now?" She arched a brow. "And what do you think of me, Mr. Blackwood?"
Ethan leaned in slightly, his voice dropping. "I think you're dangerous. And I like dangerous."
For the briefest moment, her composure slipped, and a spark of surprise lit her eyes. But she recovered quickly, her lips curving into a sly smile. "You have no idea."
Later that night, Sophia stood on the balcony, the cool air a welcome reprieve from the suffocating crowd. She sipped her champagne, her mind racing. Meeting Ethan Blackwood had been... unexpected. He was nothing like the cold, calculating tycoon she'd imagined.
He was charming, yes, but there was something else. A darkness in his eyes, a weight he carried like an invisible shroud. Sophia couldn't shake the feeling that he was hiding something—something big.
Her phone buzzed in her clutch, pulling her from her thoughts. She glanced at the screen: an anonymous message.
"Look deeper. The truth lies beneath Blackwood."
Her heart skipped a beat. She scanned the crowd below, searching for the sender, but everyone seemed engrossed in their own conversations.
Sophia's hands tightened around her phone. She'd been following a lead on a decade-old disappearance, and all signs pointed to Blackwood Industries. But if this message was right, her investigation was only scratching the surface.
She turned back toward the ballroom, her resolve hardening. Ethan Blackwood might be charming, but she wasn't here to be charmed. She was here to uncover the truth.
Ethan watched Sophia from the shadows, his expression unreadable. He'd seen her reaction to the message, the way her body tensed and her eyes darted across the crowd. Someone was playing a dangerous game.
"Do you think she knows?" Daniel's voice was low, cautious.
"No," Ethan said firmly. "But she's close. Too close."
"What do we do?"
Ethan's jaw tightened. He'd worked too hard to let everything fall apart now. But there was something about Sophia that made him hesitate. She wasn't like the others. She was relentless, yes, but there was also a fire in her—one that called to the part of him he'd buried long ago.
"Keep an eye on her," he said finally. "But don't interfere. Not yet."
As the night wore on, Ethan couldn't shake the feeling that this was only the beginning. Sophia Hart was a storm
on the horizon, and when she hit, there would be no turning back.