MY TWO FACED BILLIONAIRE

CHAPTER 4

Chloe POV



The next morning, I was slowly beginning to adjust to my new routine.

I woke up early, made myself a sandwich, and turned on the morning news while getting ready for work.

I nearly choked on my breakfast when a familiar face appeared on the screen.

Keith Miller.

My former manager.

His hands were cuffed behind his back as two police officers escorted him through a crowd of reporters.

I quickly turned up the volume.

"...the former finance manager of Hexsmith Corporation was arrested early this morning following multiple allegations of s****l harassment involving several female employees. Authorities confirmed that more victims have recently come forward—"

I stared at the television.

How did he get caught?

Then Rowan's voice suddenly echoed inside my head.

"So it was the finance manager of Hexsmith Corp?"

"The one who harassed you?"

My hand froze around my sandwich.

Could it be?

No.

Rowan couldn't possibly have anything to do with this.

Right?

I checked the clock and immediately jumped from my chair.

"Shit."

I was going to be late.

I arrived at Lockwood Corporation earlier than yesterday, but the light inside Rowan's office was already on.

He's here already?

Did this man ever sleep?

I placed my bag on my desk and headed straight to the pantry. Yesterday, he'd given me a protein bar when I forgot to eat. Bringing him coffee seemed like the least I could do.

I knocked on his office door before pushing it open.

Rowan was on the phone.

"Make sure Legal reviews the liability clause again. I don't want any surprises after we sign."

His eyes lifted toward me.

"Talk to you later."

He ended the call.

“I brought you coffee.” I placed the cup on his desk.

"Thank you."

I was about to leave when he stopped me.

"Good thing you're here. I want to show you something."

I walked around his desk.

A document filled his laptop screen.

CONFIDENTIAL INVESTMENT AND ACQUISITION AGREEMENT

Beneath it was another name.

Northstar Freight Technologies, Inc.

"Lockwood Corporation is acquiring a controlling stake in Northstar," Rowan explained. "The investment is one hundred and eighty million dollars."

My eyes widened slightly.

He scrolled farther down.

Northstar Freight Technologies developed logistics software for manufacturers and international freight companies. With Lockwood's investment, the company planned to expand into Europe and Asia.

One name appeared several times in the agreement.

Horizon Global Shipping.

"They'll handle the logistics for the expansion," Rowan said. "Print two copies of the agreement and bring them back for my signature. We're presenting it tomorrow."

"Okay."

I reached for the laptop, but his next words stopped me.

"This is confidential, Miss Mercer."

I looked at him.

"Make sure no one else gets hold of it."

My stomach tightened.

"I understand."

He trusted me.

After barely two days, Rowan Lockwood trusted me with a hundred-and-eighty-million-dollar deal.

And I was working for the man who wanted to destroy him.

My phone rang while I was alone in the copy room.

Victor.

Of course.

The printer continued producing pages as I stared at his name.

Northstar Freight Technologies.

Horizon Global Shipping.

One hundred and eighty million dollars.

Everything Victor wanted was sitting right in front of me.

I answered.

"Victor, I've told you I'm still trying to fit in here—"

"Good morning, Ms. Mercer."

I clenched my jaw.

"What do you want?"

"A report."

"I don't have anything."

"Deals. Investments. Projects. Anything."

My eyes fell toward the contract.

"I'll tell you when I have something."

A lie.

I had something.

But I wasn't giving it to him.

Not after Rowan had trusted me.

There was a brief silence.

"It's a pity," Victor finally said.

"What?"

"You might never see your mother again."

My blood turned cold.

"What did you just say?"

"Your mother, Chloe."

I gripped the phone.

"Don't you dare touch her."

Victor laughed.

"Victor—"

My phone vibrated.

A message arrived.

I opened it.

And stopped breathing.

Mom.

She was lying on a hospital bed, an oxygen tube beneath her nose. Her face looked pale and weak against the pillow.

Someone was standing outside her room.

Someone close enough to take this picture.

"No..."

My knees weakened.

"Victor, please."

"Give me something."

"Not my mom."

"Then give me something."

My eyes fell toward the contract in my hands.

I hated him.

God, I hated him.

"The shipping company."

Victor went silent.

"Horizon Global Shipping."

"And?"

I squeezed my eyes shut.

"The investment is one hundred and eighty million dollars."

"Good."

My stomach turned.

"Send me the contract."

The line went dead.

I stared at the pages.

"This is confidential, Miss Mercer."

Rowan's words echoed inside my head.

My mother's photograph was still glowing on my phone.

I had no choice.

At least, that was what I told myself.

I opened the camera.

Click.

One page.

Then another.

And another.

My thumb hovered above Victor's name.

I'm sorry, Rowan.

I pressed send.

I couldn't look at Rowan for the rest of the day.

"Miss Mercer."

My stomach twisted every time he called my name.

"Yes, Mr. Lockwood?"

"Move tomorrow's portfolio review to eleven."

"Of course."

That was all.

No suspicion.

No accusation.

Nothing.

Somehow, that was worse.

By evening, Rowan left before me.

I stayed another thirty minutes, pretending to work.

I checked tomorrow's schedule.

Then checked it again.

Read emails I'd already read.

Reviewed reports that didn't need reviewing.

Anything to avoid leaving at the same time as him.

I hated this.

I hated lying.

I hated betraying someone who had done nothing to me.

But most of all, I hated that Victor knew exactly how to make me do it.

When I finally left the office, I decided to walk home instead of taking the bus.

Maybe the cold air would clear my head.

It didn't.

"Make sure no one else gets hold of it."

"I'm sorry," I whispered.

A loud crash suddenly came from the alley beside me.

I stopped.

Laughter followed.

Then—

"Give it back."

A child's voice.

I turned.

Three teenage boys stood inside the narrow alley, surrounding a much smaller boy.

One of them held a leather wallet above his head.

"Come on," the teenager mocked. "Take it."

The little boy reached for it.

They laughed.

"Hey!"

All four turned toward me.

I marched into the alley.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"Mind your own business," the tallest one snapped.

"I was."

I pulled out my phone.

"Until I saw three idiots cornering a child."

"We're just playing."

"Great. You can explain the game to the police."

His expression changed.

"Give him his wallet."

For several seconds, nobody moved.

Then he threw it onto the ground.

"Whatever."

He shoved past me.

The other two followed.

I waited until they disappeared before turning toward the little boy.

He silently picked up his wallet.

"Are you okay?"

"Yes."

That was it.

No tears.

No trembling.

He looked more irritated than frightened.

"Did they hurt you?"

"No."

I frowned.

"You don't look very scared."

"I wasn't."

I almost laughed.

"You were surrounded by three teenagers."

"I had it under control."

I stared at him.

He stared back.

Something about him made my smile disappear.

Those eyes.

That expression.

The slight narrowing of his brows.

The stubborn set of his jaw.

I'd seen it before.

Where?

The boy brushed dirt from his sweater.

Then it hit me.

My breath caught.

Rowan.

I stared harder.

No.

Impossible.

But the resemblance was there.

The same dark hair.

The same sharp eyes.

Even that irritated little frown looked strangely familiar.

My heart began beating faster.

Why did this kid look like Rowan Lockwood?

"Wait..."

The boy immediately stiffened.

I stepped closer.

"Who are you?"

His eyes widened.

Then he ran.

"What—hey!"

I hurried after him.

"Wait!"

He sprinted out of the alley.

By the time I reached the sidewalk, he had disappeared into the crowd.

I stopped beneath the streetlight.

Looked left.

Right.

Nothing.

He was gone.

"What the hell..."

My mind immediately searched for a reasonable explanation.

Rowan's son?

No. I'd read enough about him to know he didn't have children.

A nephew?

A younger brother?

Maybe.

But those eyes...

That expression...

I stared at the corner where the boy had disappeared.

First Rowan suddenly jumped out of his car and vanished into the city.

Now a mysterious child who looked disturbingly similar to him had appeared only a few blocks from my apartment.

Coincidence.

It had to be.

Still, one question followed me all the way home.

Who the hell was that kid?