MY TWO FACED BILLIONAIRE

Chloe POV My heart thrummed loudly against my ribcage as my call went straight to voicemail for the third time. I lowered the phone from my ear and stared at the screen. My thumb immediately tapped Aaron's name again before I lifted the phone back to my ear. "Come on..." I whispered under my breath. I swear he’s not going to hear from me again if he doesn’t pick up this time. "Please answer..." The line rang twice before the robotic voice greeted me again. The person you are trying to reach is unavailable... Where the hell is he? My boyfriend, Aaron, had been the one who asked me to come here. "Meet me on Fifty-Fourth Street tonight at 7 sharp." Those were the last words he texted me this evening after our fight last night. He had a bad habit of gambling, and I had now grown tired of it. I checked the time. 8:07 p.m. I bit my lower lip as another cold breeze swept between the buildings. Rain had begun falling harder now, soaking through my coat. A loud engine pulled my attention toward the opposite side of the street. A black sedan had stopped at the curb not too far from me. The man who stepped out wore a perfectly tailored black suit despite the rain. He unfolded a black umbrella with practiced ease before looking directly at me. Our eyes met for barely a second. Then he reached into his jacket. My heart skipped. He wasn't pulling out a weapon. It was a photograph. He looked down at it. Then back at me. Then slowly nodded to someone still sitting inside the car. Every instinct inside me screamed. Run. I stepped backward. The suited man began chasing after me. My blood turned cold. I looked over my shoulder. The suited man was now only twenty feet away. I ran. The city blurred around me as I pushed through crowds without looking back. Tires screeched as I ignored a red light and sprinted across the intersection anyway. My lungs burned within seconds, but panic carried my legs farther than strength ever could. "Miss Mercer." The voice came from somewhere behind me. I didn't stop. Footsteps. More than one pair. I risked a glance over my shoulder. Three men now. All dressed exactly the same. I turned sharply into a narrow alley between two office buildings, hoping to disappear before they reached the corner. Nothing. Brick wall. Dumpster. Fire escape too high to reach. Dead end. "No..." I whispered. The footsteps echoed closer before finally stopping behind me. I slowly turned around. The three men stood silently at the entrance of the alley, blocking the only exit. The man in the middle adjusted one of his gloves before speaking. "Get her!" he ordered. His voice remained perfectly composed. I looked from one face to another. I suddenly threw the phone toward his face and bolted toward the narrow opening between him and the wall. I almost made it, but a hand suddenly grabbed my wrist. Another caught my shoulder. Pain shot through my arm as I struggled against them. "Let me go!" His grip never loosened. He simply dragged me back toward the waiting sedan. The rear door opened. I looked desperately around the street. Hundreds of people. Nobody noticed. Nobody cared. The city swallowed everything. The door closed behind me. The lock clicked. I tried to scream, but they covered my mouth to muffle my scream. They also tied my hands. Nearly forty minutes later, the sedan entered the underground parking garage of one of Manhattan's tallest skyscrapers. I stared through the tinted window. BLACKWOOD INTERNATIONAL. The silver letters stretched across the polished stone entrance. This wasn't some criminal hideout. It was the headquarters of one of the largest investment firms in the country. My confusion only grew. The men escorted me through an impossibly quiet lobby before leading me into a private elevator. No buttons were pressed. Someone scanned a fingerprint instead. Forty-second floor. The elevator opened directly into a single office. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked nearly the entire city. Shelves filled with antique books lined one wall while expensive paintings occupied another. A man sat behind an enormous walnut desk, his face hidden by the fading sunlight pouring through the glass behind him. Only his silhouette was visible. One hand rested calmly on the desk. Nothing more. The bodyguards stopped. "Sir." "We found Miss Mercer." "Leave." His voice was deep. Measured. All the men left the room. Now it was only the two of us. He gestured toward the chair opposite him. "Please." I remained standing as I felt intimidated by his presence. "I think there's been a misunderstanding." He opened a folder already waiting on the desk and slowly slid it toward me. Curiosity overcame fear. I looked down. Loan agreements. Bank transfers. Photographs. My apartment. Aaron. Me. Everything. "It wasn't my debt." "I know." The answer came instantly. I looked up. "You... know?" "Yes." He folded his hands together. "But the men searching for your former boyfriend don't particularly care whose name was on the paperwork." I swallowed hard. "I can pay." "No. I actually have a better offer for you." Silence settled between us. For the first time since entering the office, the man stood. He walked slowly around the desk until only a few feet separated us. He wasn't intimidating because of his height or his voice. He was intimidating because he never seemed unsure. Like everything had already been calculated long before I arrived. His eyes briefly fell toward another file resting beside mine. "Do you know how much a healthy kidney is worth, Miss Mercer?" A chill crawled slowly down my spine. He looked directly into my eyes. Every muscle in my body froze. He didn't smile. Didn't laugh. Didn't even blink. "It is enough," he continued quietly, "to settle your debt." My lips parted. No sound came out. He gently closed the medical file. “Let’s hope it doesn't come to that." I couldn't breathe. He returned to his desk as though we had merely discussed tomorrow's weather before opening another folder. This time... he slid a single photograph toward me. A man stood confidently before dozens of reporters, dressed in an impeccably tailored navy suit. I knew him. I had seen his face many times in business magazines. ROWAN LOCKWOOD I looked back at the man, confused. "I don’t understand." For the first time since I'd entered the office, he smiled. "I want you," he said softly, "to become his personal assistant." I stared at the photograph again. "...Why me?" He leaned back in his chair. Outside the windows, the last rays of sunlight disappeared behind Manhattan's skyline. Then he answered. "Because I need to know his every move." I took a step back away from him. “You want me to become a spy for you?” “You’re smart… and beautiful. Any normal man would fall for that type of woman.” I wanted to scold myself for blushing at his words. That wasn’t an actual compliment. He was a manipulating bastard. And the worst part was… I had no option but to agree to his plan.Top of Form _______________ Sleep never came that night for me. I lay on my bed fully dressed, staring at the cracked ceiling above my tiny apartment while the city outside slowly surrendered to silence. People like Mr. Blackwood didn't need to raise their voices. The world simply rearranged itself around them, and that was what scared me the most. What kind of problem did he have with Rowan Lockwood? But then again, did I really want to know? I didn’t want to get involved with men like them. Ever. People with money were scary. My tears had already run dry by now. I slowly sat up and wrapped both arms around my knees. My head pounded as morning sunlight began slipping through the curtains. Somewhere downstairs, a coffee shop opened its doors while buses rumbled past my apartment as though today was just another ordinary Wednesday. I reached into my bag and took out the business card Mr. Blackwood had given me. No company logo. No phone number. Only one address. BLACKWOOD INTERNATIONAL. He told me to think carefully. To return only if I had made my decision. The receptionist didn't ask for my name. The moment I stepped into the lobby, she smiled politely before pressing something beneath her desk. "Good morning, Miss Mercer." I froze. "...You know who I am?" "Mr. Blackwood is expecting you." Of course he was. The same private elevator. The same silent hallway. The same office overlooking Manhattan. This time, he didn't bother standing. He merely looked up from the document he had been reading before calmly closing the folder. "I was wondering how long it would take." I remained standing. "I don't have much of a choice." "Good… I knew you were clever enough to understand that." He nodded once. He gestured toward the chair again. "Please." I sat obediently. He slid a thick envelope across the desk. Inside were employment certificates, recommendation letters, academic transcripts, and a beautifully redesigned résumé. I frowned. "I didn't write this." "Of course you didn’t... Because the original one wasn’t nearly as impressive." My eyes moved across the pages. Everything was true. Every qualification. Every degree. Every previous position. Nothing had been fabricated. Someone had simply presented my life better than I ever had. I looked back at him. "Why?" "Because presentation matters." He folded his hands together. "So does timing." I didn't understand what he meant. He reached for another folder. This one contained Rowan Lockwood's photograph. The same picture from yesterday. The same unreadable expression. "You'll be working for him." Silence settled between us. He slowly pushed my résumé toward me. "What if I don’t make the cut?" For the first time since entering the room, Mr. Blackwood smiled. “You will, because I know you’ll do anything for me.” He inched closer. I swallowed a lump in my throat as I clearly remembered his threat to sell my organs if I was unable to finish the task. "Prepare to be contacted by Lockwood Corporation. They'll arrange an interview with you." I blinked. "...How did you know?" He looked toward the skyline beyond the windows. He didn’t even bother to answer me, as if it were a very stupid question to ask. “You may leave now. I’ll be contacting you again.” The conversation ended there. He returned to the document on his desk as though I'd already disappeared. One of the bodyguards quietly opened the office door for me. Dismissed. Just like that. ________________________________________________ The subway ride home felt strangely unreal. Lockwood Corporation was one of the biggest companies in New York. Thousands of people applied there every year. I wasn't special. I wasn't connected. How can I be possibly work there? By the time I reached my apartment, I threw my résumé onto the dining table before heading toward the kitchen. The silence inside the apartment felt heavier than usual. I was halfway through making instant coffee when my phone vibrated. Unknown number. For one brief second, my heart leaped. Could it be? Without thinking, I answered. "...Hello?" "Good afternoon." A woman's cheerful voice greeted me. "My name is Marissa from Lockwood Corporation Human Resources." It’s really happening! Everything inside me stopped. "We've reviewed your application." "We'd like to invite you for an interview this Friday at eight-thirty in the morning." I couldn't speak. My eyes drifted toward the résumé still lying on the table. Untouched. "...Miss Mercer?" Marissa's voice pulled me back. "Will that time be convenient for you?" My mouth had gone completely dry. "Y...Yes." "Wonderful." "We're looking forward to meeting you." The call ended. For several long seconds, I remained frozen exactly where I stood. This is really happening.