Chapter 1: The Wrong Door
1935 Words
Isabella
I was supposed to be alone.
The office was empty when I arrived at 6:47 AM. Before the cleaning crew. Before the coffee makers started brewing. Before anyone could witness the slow, humiliating unraveling of my career.
My heels clicked against the marble floor. Sharp. Decisive. The sound of a woman who still believed she could win.
I told myself that as I pushed open the door to my office. As I stepped into the space that was supposed to be mine. As I reached for the light switch.
And froze.
Someone was already there.
A man stood behind my desk, his back to me, silhouetted against the floor-to-ceiling windows. The early morning light cut across his shoulders, casting his face in shadow. He was tall. Broad. Impossibly still.
He was holding my files.
My blood turned to ice.
“Who the hell are you?”
My voice came out sharper than I intended.
Good.
Fear wasn’t an option. Not here. Not now.
The man turned slowly. The movement was calculated. Controlled. Like a predator that knew it had already won.
And then I saw his face.
Sharp jaw. Dark eyes that held nothing—no warmth, no hesitation, no mercy. He was beautiful in the way a blade was beautiful.
Clean.
Deadly.
He smiled.
It didn’t reach his eyes.
“Isabella Vance,” he said, my name rolling off his tongue like he owned it. “I was wondering when you’d show up.”
I stepped forward, willing my legs to stop shaking.
“You have five seconds to explain why you’re in my office before I call security.”
“Call them.”
He gestured casually toward my desk.
“I’m sure they’ll be very interested to hear what I have to say.”
My stomach dropped.
“What are you talking about?”
He held up the file in his hand.
My file.
The one marked CONFIDENTIAL.
“The board is going to be very disappointed to learn you’ve been hiding this,” he said. “Budget discrepancies. Misallocated funds. A rather impressive cover-up, I’ll admit. But not impressive enough.”
I stared at him.
The room suddenly felt too small.
Too warm.
Too dangerous.
“Who do you work for?”
“Cole.”
He set the file down.
“Your new co-VP.”
The words hit me like a slap.
My father’s voice echoed in my head.
The board isn’t a family, Isabella. The moment they smell weakness, they’ll turn on you.
And he was so right.
Growing up as Richard Vance’s daughter had taught me one thing: success always came with conditions.
Every promotion had an invisible asterisk attached to it.
Every achievement.
Every compliment.
Every victory.
People didn’t see Isabella Vance.
They saw Richard Vance’s daughter.
If I succeeded, it was because of him.
If I failed, it was because I wasn’t good enough.
No matter how hard I worked, his shadow followed me everywhere.
That was why this position mattered.
I hadn’t slept properly in months.
I have missed birthdays.
Skipped vacations.
Watched relationships fall apart because work always came first.
I have sacrificed pieces of myself for this company.
And now a stranger was standing in my office threatening to take everything away.
The worst part?
He looked completely calm.
While my world was collapsing, Cole Blackwood looked like he was discussing the weather.
“I warned them not to hire another VP,” I said.
“Yet here I am.”
“You’re not supposed to be here.”
“Neither are you.”
He walked around the desk, slow and deliberate, until he was standing in front of me.
Too close.
“I know what you’ve been hiding, Isabella. I know about the missing funds. I know about the client accounts. I know everything.”
My heart slammed against my ribs.
What did he actually know?
How much had he found?
The mistakes had started small.
A temporary adjustment.
A short-term solution.
At least that’s what I had told myself.
Then one problem became another.
One decision became five.
And suddenly I was carrying secrets I couldn’t afford to expose.
“What do you want?”
For a moment, he didn’t answer.
Instead, he studied me.
The silence stretched.
Uncomfortable.
Intentional.
His gaze moved across my face as though he was memorizing every reaction.
Every weakness.
Every crack.
I fought the urge to look away.
Not just the confidence.
Not just the threat.
But I wasn’t going to give him that satisfaction.
At least not openly.
Inside, my pulse was spiraling out of control.
Because there was something deeply unsettling about him.
The terrifying certainty that he already knew how this conversation would end.
As though he’d walked into my office with every move planned.
As though he’d already won.
“What do I want?” he repeated.
A slow smile touched his lips.
“I want the VP position.”
“And I want you to help me get it.”
“You’re insane.”
“Maybe.”
He stepped closer.
“But you’re desperate.”
I opened my mouth to argue.
No words came.
Because he was right.
I was desperate.
Desperate to prove I wasn’t just my father’s daughter.
Desperate to prove I belonged here.
Desperate to keep the secrets I have buried from seeing daylight.
“And desperate people do desperate things.”
My jaw tightened.
“So here’s what’s going to happen,” he continued. “You and I are going to work together. You’re going to pretend to be my girlfriend. You’re going to smile, play nice, and convince the board that we’re the perfect team.”
I blinked.
For a second, I thought I misheard him.
“What?”
“You heard me.”
“No.”
His eyebrow lifted.
“No?”
“No. Absolutely not.”
“Then I expose you.”
The answer came immediately.
Cold.
Simple.
Merciless.
“And your career ends.”
I felt the air leave my lungs.
“You’re bluffing.”
“I would never bluff with something this important.”
“You don’t even know me.”
A strange look crossed his face.
“No?”
He folded his arms.
“You work fourteen-hour days.”
I froze.
“You haven’t taken a proper vacation in two years.”
My stomach tightened.
“You drink enough coffee to keep an entire department awake.”
His gaze locked on mine.
“And every decision you make is designed to prove you deserve to be here.”
I stared at him.
“How do you know that?”
“Because I did my homework.”
The answer should have reassured me.
Instead, it unsettled me even more.
How long had he been watching?
What else did he know?
“You’re using me,” I said.
“Yes.”
The blunt honesty caught me off guard.
“And you expect me to go along with it?”
“I expect you to be smart.”
His jaw tightened slightly.
The first crack I’d seen in his composure.
“Everyone uses everyone, Isabella.”
I laughed bitterly.
“That’s your philosophy?”
“No.”
His voice hardened.
“That’s reality.”
For a fraction of a second, something flickered in his eyes.
Pain.
Anger.
Regret.
Gone before I could identify it.
“You don’t know anything about reality.”
Something dangerous flashed across his expression.
The atmosphere shifted.
Not dramatically.
Just enough.
Enough to tell me I’d touched a nerve.
“Trust me,” he said quietly. “I know more about reality than you think.”
Silence fell between us.
Very Uncomfortable.
The sight was so unexpected it almost distracted me.
Almost.
The world continued spinning.
Completely unaware that mine had just stopped.
I wondered if this was how disasters began.
Not with explosions.
Not with dramatic announcements.
Just one conversation.
One wrong decision.
One person walking through the wrong door.
And suddenly everything changed.
“What about the files?” I asked.
His expression returned to neutral.
“I’ll destroy them.”
“Why would I believe that?”
“Because once we’re done, I won’t need them.”
“You could be lying.”
“I could.”
He shrugged.
“But you don’t have another choice.”
The realization tasted like poison.
Every instinct screamed at me to throw him out.
To call security.
To fight.
But instincts were luxuries.
And luxuries belonged to people with options.
I didn’t have any.
The file sitting on my desk represented months of mistakes.
Mistakes made while trying to save a failing client account.
Mistakes I’d convinced myself I could fix before anyone noticed.
Intentions didn’t matter anymore.
Only consequences.
And the consequences were standing right in front of me.
Wearing an expensive suit and a merciless smile.
“I hate you.”
His smile widened.
“No, you don’t.”
“I absolutely do.”
“You just met me.”
“Exactly.”
For the first time, amusement appeared in his eyes.
Real amusement.
The sight was so unexpected it almost distracted me.
Almost.
“I’ll call you.”
“You already have my number.”
He reached into his pocket and handed me a card.
Our fingers brushed.
The contact lasted less than a second.
Still, I noticed it.
His skin was warm.
Strong.
Annoyingly human for someone acting like the devil.
“Tomorrow,” he said.
“Eight o’clock. Boardroom.”
“And if I don’t show up?”
His gaze darkened.
“Then I make sure you’re never late for anything again.”
A chill slid down my spine.
“Because you won’t have a career to be late for.”
The threat hung between us.
Sharp.
Final.
He turned toward the door.
Then stopped.
Looked back.
“One more thing, Isabella.”
I didn’t answer.
His gaze swept over me.
Calm.
Assessing.
Dangerously unreadable.
“Smile.”
I frowned.
“What?”
“You’re going to need the practice.”
And then he was gone.
The door clicked shut behind him.
Silence rushed into the room.
I stood there long after he left.
The office felt different now.
Smaller.
Quieter.
Lonelier.
Like he’d taken all the oxygen with him.
Slowly, I looked down at the card in my hand.
Cole Blackwood.
Even his name sounded dangerous.
I should have thrown it away.
Should have ripped it into pieces and forgotten this conversation ever happened.
Instead, my fingers tightened around it.
Because despite everything
Despite the threats.
Despite the blackmail.
Despite the arrogance.
A tiny voice in the back of my mind kept whispering the same thing.
He’s hiding something too.
Men like Cole didn’t become ruthless overnight.
They became ruthless because the world taught them survival came first.
For one brief moment, when he talked about reality, I had seen something beneath the mask.
Something human.
Something broken.
The thought irritated me immediately.
I didn’t want to understand him.
I didn’t want to sympathize with him.
And I definitely didn’t want to spend the foreseeable future pretending to be his girlfriend.
Yet somehow, all three things felt inevitable.
My phone buzzed on the desk.
A text message.
From my father.
Board meeting tomorrow. Don’t embarrass me.
I stared at the words.
Then I laughed.
A short, hollow sound.
Because embarrassment was the least of my problems now.
Tomorrow at eight o’clock, I would walk into that boardroom.
I would stand beside Cole Blackwood.
And together we would begin a lie.
A dangerous lie.
One that might save both our careers.
Or destroy us completely.
- Writer
