Claire arrived at the Blackwood building at 7:55 AM. Her gut twisted as she walked toward the private lift. The flash drive felt heavy in her pocket.
She hadn't slept all night. After leaving the meal, she'd gone to a small room paid for with cash. She trusted no one now.
The lift needed a code. Claire tried the numbers from the key card: 1984. The doors slid open.
"This is it," she whispered to herself. "No turning back."
The lift shot upward, carrying her toward whatever trap waited above. When the doors opened, she stepped into a poorly lit hallway going to a single door.
Claire took a deep breath and pushed it open.
Damian Blackwood stood by the window, his tall form dark against the morning light. He didn't turn when she entered.
"You took something that doesn't belong to you," he said, his voice icecold.
"I found something that explains what happened to my father," Claire fired back.
Now he turned. His eyes were hard, studying her like she was a problem he couldn't solve.
"Margaret set you up," he said.
Claire blinked in surprise. "You know?"
"Security cameras don't lie." Damian walked toward her slowly. "What I don't know is why you went there in the first place."
"I got a message. I thought it was from you."
Damian's jaw tightened. "Show me."
Claire pulled out her phone, showing him the texts. His eyes narrowed as he read them.
"This wasn't Margaret," he said. "She doesn't have access to this number."
Claire's heart raced. "Then who—"
"Give me the flash drive," Damian cut her off, putting out his hand.
Claire stepped back. "No. It has proof about my father."
"It has lies about your father," Damian snapped. "Carefully crafted lies meant to make you trust the wrong people."
"Like you?" Claire challenged.
Something flashed in Damian's eyes—anger, hurt, she couldn't tell. "You think I'm your enemy? You know nothing, Claire."
"I know your mother forced my father to sign over his company!"
"My mother guards her interests. Always has. But she wasn't working alone." Damian moved closer. "Your father was working with Pierce."
"That's not true!"
"Isn't it?" Damian's voice dropped dangerously. "Then why was he meeting Pierce twice a week for months before his company fell?"
Claire failed. "How would you know that?"
"Because I was investigating Pierce, not your father." Damian's face was inches from hers now. "Your father got caught in the crossfire."
Claire's mind spun. Could he be saying the truth?
"The flash drive, Claire. Now." His hand stayed outstretched.
"No."
Damian's eyes darkened. "You're trouble," he growled.
In one quick move, he reached for her pocket, but Claire was faster. She ducked under his arm and ran for the door.
"Claire!" Damian yelled behind her.
She ran down the hallway toward the elevator, but it was already going down. Trapped. She spotted a stairway door and pushed through it.
Footsteps pounded behind her. Damian was following.
Claire took the stairs two at a time, her heart pounding against her chest. Three floors down, she burst through another door into an empty office room.
Cubicles made a maze around her. She weaved through them, looking for another route.
"You can't run from this, Claire," Damian's words echoed through the empty room. "Sooner or later, you'll have to face the truth."
"Which version?" she called back, ducking behind a file cabinet. "Yours? Margaret's? Pierce's? Everyone has a different story!"
"That's because everyone wants something from you."
His voice was closer now. Claire peered around the cabinet and saw him moving between the cubicles, looking for her.
"And what do you want?" she asked.
Damian stopped. For a moment, he looked almost fragile.
"The same thing you want. The truth."
Claire stood slowly, facing him across the room. "Why should I believe you?"
"Because I'm the only one not lying to you." Damian took a step forward. "Your father wasn't innocent, Claire. But he wasn't the monster either."
"Then who is?"
"The person who sent you those texts. The person who wants us fighting each other instead of looking at the real enemy."
A noise from the stairs made them both turn. The door was opening.
Damian moved quickly, pulling Claire behind a wall. His body shielded hers as footsteps entered the room.
"Claire?" Olivia's voice called out. "Are you here? Your phone tracker says you're in this building."
Claire stiffened. Phone tracker? She'd never given Olivia permission to track her.
Damian's eyes met hers, telling her to stay quiet. His arm around her waist kept her still.
"Come on, Claire," Olivia called again. "I know you're meeting Damian. It's not safe!"
Claire started to move, but Damian's grip tightened.
"Don't," he whispered against her ear. "She's not alone."
Claire looked up at him in fear. His face was inches from hers, his eyes fierce.
"How do you know?" she whispered back.
"Listen."
Sure enough, a second pair of footsteps moved across the floor. Heavier. A man's.
"She's not here," a familiar voice said. Vincent.
Claire's heart dropped. Vincent and Olivia. Together. Just like Margaret had said—everyone in her life was linked somehow.
"The tracker says she is," Olivia insisted. "Keep looking."
As their footsteps moved away, Damian led Claire toward another exit.
"My car's downstairs," he whispered. "Side entry. We need to go. Now."
"Why should I go anywhere with you?" Claire hissed.
Damian's eyes burned into hers. "Because I'm the only one who hasn't been tracking you like a hungry wolf."
Before Claire could answer, his phone buzzed. He checked it, his face turning hard.
"What is it?" Claire asked.
"Someone just accessed my private files using your credentials."
"That's impossible. I don't have—"
"Exactly." Damian grabbed her hand. "Someone's setting us both up."
He pulled her toward the exit, and this time Claire didn't fight. As they hurried down a service stairs, she asked, "Where are we going?"
"Somewhere safe," Damian answered. "Where we can look at that flash drive together."
Claire stopped. "And then what?"
Damian's eyes met hers, something dangerous and determined in them. "Then we find out who's really behind all this. Your father's fall. My mother's secrets. All of it."
As they reached the side door, Claire saw a sleek black car waiting. The driver opened the door without a word.
Just before she got in, Claire noticed a red dot moving across Damian's chest.
A shooter.
"Damian!" she screamed, pushing him down as a shot rang out.
Glass broke. People screamed. The driver pulled a gun.
In the chaos, neither of them saw the figure watching from across the street, phone in hand, smiling as they rushed for cover.
The game was just starting.