Hired by the Billionaire I Destroyed

Chapter 2: Dead Witness

The car was already moving before Seraphina could buckle her seatbelt.

Lucien drove like a man who owned the roads, which he practically did. His phone was pressed to his ear, his voice a low growl of commands she barely registered. Security teams. Digital forensics. A name she didn't recognize.

She clutched the contract against her chest like armor.

"Where are we going?" she asked.

He didn't answer. Just accelerated through a yellow light that turned red before they cleared the intersection.

"I asked you a question."

"I heard you." His jaw was tight. "We're going to see the only witness who can prove the original financial documents were forged."

"Who?"

"His name is Marcus Webb. He worked in our accounting department for six years. He resigned two weeks before your article went live."

Seraphina's mind raced. She remembered Webb. She'd interviewed him. He'd been nervous, evasive, but his testimony had corroborated the paper trail. He'd confirmed the suspicious transfers.

"I interviewed him," she said. "He never mentioned forgery."

"Of course he didn't. He was too busy taking a bribe to keep his mouth shut about what he actually knew."

The accusation stung. She'd built her career on reading people, on knowing when they were lying. If Webb had played her, she'd missed it completely.

"How do you know he took a bribe?"

"Because three days after your article was published, he deposited fifty thousand euros into an offshore account." Lucien's hands tightened on the wheel. "I've been tracking him ever since."

She wanted to ask why he hadn't gone to the police, but the answer was obvious. The police had been too busy investigating him. The same evidence that made her story credible had made Lucien the prime suspect.

"Where is he now?"

"Apparently, he's in Valemont. A contact called me twenty minutes ago. Webb's been living under a fake name in a cheap apartment near the docks."

"And you're just going to show up at his door?"

"I'm going to make him tell the truth. You're going to witness it."

The car veered onto a side street, the buildings growing older and dirtier as they moved away from the financial district. Seraphina watched the city change, her reporter's instincts kicking in despite her exhaustion. She noted the lack of street cameras. The narrow alleys. The kind of neighborhood where people disappeared without questions.

"This doesn't feel safe," she said.

"It's not."

"Then why didn't you bring security?"

"Because security can be bought. The person behind this has already proven they can reach people close to me." He glanced at her, his expression unreadable. "Right now, the only person I trust is the one who hates me enough to want the truth."

She didn't know whether to feel flattered or terrified.

"Pull over."

"What?"

"Pull over." She turned to face him, the contract crumpling in her grip. "I need to know what I'm walking into. Right now. Before we reach that apartment."

Lucien exhaled sharply but guided the car to the curb. The engine idled as he turned to face her.

"You have two minutes."

"What aren't you telling me? Three years ago, I had sources inside your company. I had documents that your own lawyers couldn't discredit in court. If all of it was fake, then someone spent years building a lie just to destroy you. That's not a simple corporate rivalry. That's personal."

He held her gaze for a long moment. The silence stretched between them, heavy with secrets he clearly didn't want to share.

"My uncle," he finally said.

"Matthias?"

"He's the only person with access to every system those documents came from. He trained me. Built this company with my father. And for the last three years, he's been positioning himself to take control of the board."

Seraphina's pulse quickened. "You think your uncle orchestrated the entire scandal?"

"I think someone close to me did." Lucien's voice dropped. "And if it was Matthias, then walking into that apartment without understanding his endgame is suicide."

"Then why are we doing this?"

"Because Webb is the first real lead I've had in three years. And because you're the only person who can identify if he's lying. You interviewed him. You know his tells."

She didn't. Not really. She'd been so focused on the story, so convinced of her own righteousness, that she'd ignored every instinct that whispered something was wrong.

"Tell me about the article," Lucien said. "The first time you received evidence. Who sent it?"

"Anonymous tip. A man's voice, digitally altered. He said he worked in your financial department and had proof of match manipulation."

"What did he give you?"

"Bank statements. Email chains. A recording of a phone call between you and a referee."

Lucien's expression darkened. "I never spoke to any referee about fixing matches."

"The recording said otherwise."

"Did you ever verify the voice on that recording was actually mine?"

Seraphina hesitated. She'd meant to. But deadlines, pressure from her editor, and the intoxicating rush of the biggest story of her career had pushed her forward.

"I trusted the evidence."

"Someone counted on that." Lucien started the car again. "And now that evidence is getting people killed."

"Killed?"

"Webb called me last week. He was terrified. Said he wanted to confess everything but needed protection. He mentioned a name. Before he could finish, the line went dead."

"What name?"

Lucien's eyes met hers, and for the first time, she saw something other than rage in them.

"Yours."

The word landed like a punch to the chest.

"He mentioned my name?"

"He said you were never supposed to get hurt. That you were just a tool." Lucien pulled the car back onto the road. "Whoever did this used you, Seraphina. And I think Webb was about to tell me who before someone silenced him."

They drove the rest of the way in tense silence. The docks appeared through the windshield, gray and industrial, the kind of place that swallowed light and hope in equal measure.

Lucien parked outside a crumbling apartment building. The windows were dark. The front door hung slightly open.

"Stay behind me," he said.

"You're not armed."

"I don't need to be."

Seraphina followed him inside, her heart pounding so hard she could feel it in her throat. The hallway smelled like damp concrete and stale smoke. Their footsteps echoed on the cracked tile.

Apartment 4B was at the end of the corridor. The door was ajar.

Lucien pushed it open.

The apartment was empty. Not abandoned, but searched. Drawers pulled out. Papers scattered across the floor. A laptop lay shattered near the window.

And in the center of the room, a chair was overturned.

"Webb?" Lucien called out.

No answer.

Seraphina stepped inside, her reporter's instincts cataloging everything. The half-eaten meal on the table. The coat still hanging by the door. The phone charging on the counter.

"He left in a hurry," she said.

"Or someone took him."

Lucien moved through the apartment with predatory efficiency. She watched him check the bedroom, the bathroom, his face growing grimmer with each empty room.

"He's gone."

Seraphina picked up a piece of paper from the floor. It was a bank statement, dated six months ago. The account belonged to Marcus Webb. The balance was over two hundred thousand euros.

"He was still being paid," she said. "Someone kept him quiet long after the scandal."

Lucien took the paper from her hands. His fingers brushed hers briefly, and she felt the contact like an electric shock.

"He was a loose end." Lucien's voice was quiet but sharp as a blade. "And now he's either running or dead."

Her phone buzzed. A text message from an unknown number.

Stop digging. Or you'll disappear too.

She stared at the screen, her blood running cold.

"Seraphina." Lucien's voice cut through her fear. "What is it?"

She turned the phone toward him.

His face went pale. Then hard. Then dangerous in a way that made her understand exactly how he'd rebuilt an empire from ashes.

"Stay close to me," he said. "From now on, you don't go anywhere alone."

"I don't take orders from you."

"This isn't an order. It's survival." He stepped closer, his voice dropping to a whisper that sent a shiver down her spine. "You wanted the truth. Now you're going to help me find it. But if you die before we do, none of it matters."

She wanted to argue. Wanted to push him away and prove she didn't need his protection.

But the overturned chair. The shattered laptop. The text message glowing on her phone.

Someone had been watching them since the moment she signed that contract.

And now they knew she was a threat.

"Fine," she whispered. "But I'm not doing this as your employee. I'm doing this to clear my name."

Lucien's lips curved into something that wasn't quite a smile.

"Then we understand each other."

A sound echoed from the hallway. Footsteps. Slow. Deliberate. Moving toward them.

Lucien grabbed her arm and pulled her behind the overturned chair.

"Don't move," he breathed.

The footsteps stopped outside the door.

Seraphina held her breath, her fingers digging into Lucien's sleeve.

The door creaked open wider.

And a voice she recognized from three years ago said, "I knew you'd come back for the truth."

Seraphina's blood turned to ice.

It was Marcus Webb.