The Blood Heir

SiennaI I walked through those glass doors like I belonged there, like my shoes weren't held together with superglue, like the blazer I wore wasn't borrowed from my neighbor who works at the bank. Fake it till you make it, that's what everyone says. So I faked confidence while my stomach twisted itself into knots tight enough to anchor a ship.Ashford Medical Group. The name alone made my throat close up, made my fingers itch to grab something and throw it at those pristine white walls covered with awards and commendations. This place killed my mother. Dressed it up as complications, as unfortunate circumstances, as one of those things that just happens sometimes in medicine. But I knew better. I'd always known better.The receptionist smiled at me, all perfect teeth and perfect hair, like she was grown in a lab specifically to make people feel inadequate. "Miss Cross, they're ready for you on the executive floor. Fifteenth level, someone will meet you at the elevator."I nodded, didn't trust my voice yet. The elevator ride up felt like traveling through layers of hell, each floor taking me closer to the man whose family destroyed mine. I'd practiced my fake name so many times it almost felt real. Sienna Crawford, not Cross. Close enough to forget under pressure, different enough to slip past their background checks. Or so I'd hoped.The elevator opened onto a floor that smelled like expensive cologne and cold ambition. A woman in a suit that probably cost more than my rent met me with a tablet and a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "This way, please. Mr. Ashford is expecting you."My heart hammered. I'd researched him obsessively, knew he was the heir, the son, the one being groomed to take over this empire of lies. But seeing him in photographs and seeing him in person turned out to be two very different experiences.His office occupied a corner of the building with windows that showed the entire city sprawling below like he owned every inch of it. Maybe he did. The man behind the desk looked up when I entered, and something in his eyes made every instinct I had scream at me to run.He knew."Miss Crawford," he said, voice smooth as poisoned honey. "Please, sit down."I sat because my legs wouldn't hold me anymore. He studied me like I was a specimen under a microscope, like he could see straight through my borrowed blazer and fake credentials right down to the fury that had been burning in my chest for five years."Your resume is impressive," he continued, fingers steepled in front of him. "Near perfect, actually. Almost too perfect for someone applying to be an executive assistant.""I believe in being thorough," I managed, hating how my voice shook just slightly."Thorough." He smiled, and it was the kind of smile that made me understand why people used to fear wolves. "Is that what you'd call falsifying references? Changing your surname from Cross to Crawford? Tell me, Miss Cross, did you think we wouldn't notice?"The air left my lungs. He said my real name like he'd been waiting to use it, like he'd known from the moment he saw my application exactly who I was and what I wanted. I should have run then. Should have grabbed my bag and bolted for the elevator. But I'd spent five years planning this, saving money, building a fake work history, and I wasn't about to let it crumble without a fight."I don't know what you're talking about," I said, lifting my chin."Your mother," he said quietly, and the gentleness in his voice was somehow worse than anger would have been. "Rebecca Cross. Admitted for a routine procedure five years ago. Died of complications we classified as unforeseeable."Hearing him say her name made something crack inside my chest. "You murdered her.""Did I?" He leaned back in his chair, watching me with those cold, calculating eyes. "I wasn't even in the country when she died. I was finishing my surgical residency in Geneva, trying very hard to pretend my family's business didn't exist.""But you came back," I spat. "You put on your expensive suits and you help them cover it up, help them kill more people, help them, ""You're right." His interruption cut through my rage like a scalpel. "About almost everything. Which is why I'm going to make you an offer, Miss Cross. You can work for me, legitimately, and I'll give you supervised access to the files you're looking for. Or I can call security right now and have you arrested for fraud, attempted corporate espionage, and trespassing. Your choice."I stared at him, trying to understand the angle, the trick. Nothing about this made sense. "Why would you help me?""Who said anything about helping you?" He picked up a pen, signed something on his desk with casual precision. "Maybe I just want to keep my enemies close. Maybe I'm curious what you'll do when you realize the truth is more complicated than you think. Or maybe, Miss Cross, I'm just as trapped in this as you are, and I've been waiting for someone angry enough and stupid enough to try what you're trying."He pressed a button on his phone. "Security, cancel that alert. Miss Cross will be joining us after all." His eyes locked on mine. "Welcome to Ashford Medical Group. Try not to get yourself killed on your first day."