Beneath His Empire

The first rule of investigative journalism was simple: Never get emotionally involved with the story. I had lived by that rule for six years. It had helped me expose corrupt politicians, fraudulent charities, and businessmen who hid their crimes behind expensive smiles and tailored suits. But as I sat across from Damien Blackwood, I realized rules were easy to follow until someone came along who made you want to break them. And Damien Blackwood was exactly that kind of man. The billionaire CEO leaned back in his chair, one arm resting casually on the leather armrest. Through the floor-to-ceiling windows behind him, New York glittered like a sea of diamonds. Hundreds of feet below, people rushed through their lives, completely unaware that one of the most powerful men in the country was sitting only a few feet away from me. Watching me. Studying me. Judging me. His dark eyes hadn't left mine since the moment I'd entered his office. Most men looked at women. Damien Blackwood observed them. There was a difference. One made you feel noticed. The other made you feel exposed. My fingers tightened around my pen. "Miss Bennett." His voice was deep and smooth, carrying the quiet confidence of a man who had never heard the word no. I straightened. "Mr. Blackwood." A faint smile touched his lips. Not friendly. Not warm. Dangerous. The kind of smile that belonged to predators. "You've been investigating me." My pulse skipped. For a terrifying second, I thought he'd discovered everything. The hidden files. The anonymous emails. The evidence I'd spent months gathering. The source who had risked their life to contact me. I forced myself to remain calm. "I'm a journalist." His gaze sharpened. "I investigate everyone." "Not like this." The office suddenly felt smaller. The air heavier. I hated that he could affect me this way. I hated it even more because he knew it. The rumors surrounding Damien Blackwood had followed him for years. Some called him a visionary. Others called him a monster. There were whispers about people who had crossed him and disappeared from public view overnight. Business rivals who suddenly went bankrupt. Journalists who abandoned stories moments before publication. Nobody ever proved anything. But nobody ever denied it either. That was why I was here. Three weeks ago, I'd received an encrypted email. No sender. No signature. Only one sentence. If you want the truth about Damien Blackwood, look into Blackwood Foundation Project Omega. Attached were several documents. And after reviewing them, I couldn't walk away. Because if they were real... Someone was hiding a very dangerous secret. "People are curious about powerful men," I said. Damien's eyes darkened. "And what exactly are you curious about, Miss Bennett?" The way he said my name sent an uncomfortable shiver down my spine. Like he was tasting it. I ignored the feeling. "Project Omega." Silence. The shift was immediate. Subtle. But noticeable. The smile disappeared from his face. For the first time since I'd arrived, Damien looked genuinely interested. "Project Omega?" I nodded. "It's mentioned in several financial reports connected to your foundation." "Interesting." "Is it?" "Very." I frowned. "You don't seem surprised." "I'm rarely surprised." His confidence should have annoyed me. Instead, it intrigued me. That was a problem. A very big problem. Because journalists who became intrigued by their subjects made mistakes. And Damien Blackwood looked like the kind of mistake that could ruin lives. The interview continued for nearly an hour. I asked questions. He answered. Yet somehow it felt less like an interview and more like a chess match. Every answer he gave revealed something while hiding something else. Every question I asked seemed to amuse him. As if he enjoyed watching me search for answers. When the interview finally ended, I switched off my recorder. "Thank you for your time." Damien remained seated. "That's it?" I blinked. "That's it." A strange expression crossed his face. Almost disappointment. "I expected more." "I'm sure you did." The corner of his mouth lifted. Before either of us could say another word, his phone rang. His expression hardened instantly. The transformation was startling. One second he was composed. The next, he looked lethal. Without taking his eyes off me, he answered. "Speak." A man's voice echoed faintly from the speaker. I couldn't hear the words. Only Damien's response. "No." A pause. Then— "Find him." The temperature in the room seemed to drop. Another pause. His jaw tightened. "Make sure he never threatens her again." Her. My stomach twisted. Something about the way he said it unsettled me. Protective. Possessive. Dangerous. The call ended. Damien placed the phone on his desk. For a moment, neither of us spoke. Then his gaze returned to mine. And suddenly I felt like prey standing in front of a wolf. "Miss Bennett." I swallowed. "Yes?" "You should be careful." A chill raced down my spine. "Why?" Slowly, Damien rose from his chair. The movement was graceful. Controlled. Terrifying. At six foot four, he towered over me. Every instinct screamed at me to step back. I refused. He walked around the desk. One step. Then another. Until only a few feet separated us. My heart hammered against my ribs. "You ask dangerous questions." I forced a smile. "Occupational hazard." His eyes lowered briefly to my lips. Then returned to my eyes. The look sent heat rushing through my body. And I hated myself for noticing. "You have no idea what you're getting involved in." "Then tell me." For the first time, genuine emotion flickered across his face. Not anger. Not amusement. Fear. It vanished so quickly I almost thought I'd imagined it. But it had been there. A man like Damien Blackwood wasn't afraid for himself. Which meant he was afraid for someone else. Or something else. "What happens if I don't stop digging?" I asked quietly. The silence stretched between us. Outside, thunder rolled across the city. A storm was coming. Damien's gaze remained locked on mine. Unwavering. Intense. Possessive. When he finally spoke, his voice was barely above a whisper. "The deeper you dig into my world..." He stepped closer. Close enough for me to smell expensive cologne and something darker underneath. Close enough for my pulse to lose all common sense. "...the harder it will be to leave." Every warning bell in my head started screaming. I should have walked away. I should have taken my recorder and left. Instead, I stood there. Frozen. Captivated. Because for the first time since beginning this investigation, I realized something terrifying. I wasn't just chasing a story anymore. I was chasing Damien Blackwood. And something told me he was already chasing me too. As I left Blackwood Holdings that evening, rain began falling from the dark sky. I had no idea that within forty-eight hours, my apartment would be broken into. My source would disappear. And Damien Blackwood would become the only person standing between me and a danger I never saw coming. The story of my career had just begun. And so had my downfall.