The First Week
980 Words
By the end of my first week at Blackwood Global, I understood one thing clearly.
This place didn’t run on work alone.
It ran on secrets.
The office buzzed constantly—quiet conversations that stopped when I walked past, eyes that lingered a second too long, smiles that felt rehearsed. I wasn’t just new. I was watched. And I hated that Elias Blackwood had placed me right in the middle of it.
I hated him more for being right about one thing.
I needed to be careful.
My first real assignment wasn’t numbers. It was people.
“You’ll attend the charity gala tonight,” Elias said that morning, not even looking up from his tablet. “Observe. Listen. Don’t speak unless spoken to.”
I stared at him. “I’m an analyst, not an ornament.”
He lifted his gaze slowly. “Tonight, you’re both.”
Anger curled in my chest. “Why?”
“Because,” he said calmly, “some deals are made where spreadsheets can’t reach.”
I almost laughed. Of course. Backroom conversations dressed in champagne and silk.
“And if I refuse?” I asked.
“You won’t,” he replied. “You’re too curious.”
I hated that he was right.
The gala was held at a luxury hotel overlooking the city. When I arrived, the place was already glowing—crystal chandeliers, expensive laughter, cameras flashing at the entrance. Men in tailored suits. Women draped in elegance and ambition.
Power had a uniform. And everyone here wore it well.
I felt out of place in my simple black dress, but I forced my shoulders back. My father had once stood in rooms like this. Had believed he belonged.
Until Elias Blackwood decided he didn’t.
Elias appeared beside me without warning.
“You clean up well,” he said, voice neutral.
I looked at him. “Don’t mistake appearance for compliance.”
A flicker of amusement crossed his face. “Noted.”
As we moved through the room, I listened. Names. Companies. Foreign investors with too much interest in Blackwood Global’s internal affairs. A man with a gold watch mentioned shell accounts like they were harmless toys. Another spoke about “silencing leaks” with a laugh.
I memorized everything.
Then I saw her.
Ella Monroe.
The name hit me like a punch.
She stood across the room, laughing softly as she touched Elias’s arm like she belonged there. Like she had always belonged there.
My stomach twisted.
Ella Monroe wasn’t just anyone.
She was my father’s former business partner. The woman who testified against him when everything fell apart. The woman who smiled on television while saying she “had no choice.”
Liar.
I felt my pulse spike as Elias leaned closer to her, whispering something that made her laugh. Too familiar. Too easy.
So that’s how it was.
You didn’t just destroy him.
You replaced him.
I stepped away before Elias noticed my expression. I needed air. I needed space. I needed to think.
That’s when someone grabbed my arm.
Not roughly. Firmly enough to stop me.
“You must be Ava,” a man said, smiling without warmth. “Daniel Cross.”
The name rang a bell. Investor. One of the quieter ones. The kind that never spoke in meetings but somehow always got what he wanted.
“Yes,” I replied cautiously.
“I knew your father,” he said casually.
Every muscle in my body tensed.
“He was… principled,” Daniel continued. “Too principled for this world.”
I forced a polite smile. “And yet, he didn’t survive it.”
Daniel’s eyes sharpened. “Careful. Walls have ears.”
“So I’ve heard,” I said.
He leaned closer. “If you’re smart, you’ll stop asking questions. Blackwood doesn’t like loose ends.”
I pulled my arm free. “Neither do I.”
His smile faded. “You’re braver than your father.”
I met his gaze. “I’m angrier.”
I turned and walked away before he could respond.
When I found Elias again, he was alone, watching me from across the room.
He knew.
He always knew.
Later that night, as the guests thinned and the music softened, he cornered me near the balcony.
“You spoke with Daniel Cross,” he said.
“I speak with whoever I want,” I replied.
“Not here,” he said quietly. “Not yet.”
I laughed bitterly. “Afraid I’ll learn something you don’t want me to know?”
His eyes darkened. “Afraid you’ll get yourself killed.”
The words landed heavier than I expected.
“Is that supposed to scare me?” I asked.
“Yes,” he said simply.
I stared at him, searching for mockery, arrogance—anything. I found none.
“Why do you care?” I demanded. “You didn’t care when my father—”
“Enough,” Elias cut in sharply. For the first time, irritation broke through his calm. “You don’t understand what you’re standing in.”
“Then explain it,” I challenged.
He looked at me for a long moment. Then he said, “No.”
That was it. That was the moment I stopped seeing him as just my enemy.
He was something worse.
A gatekeeper.
Someone who knew the truth and controlled who survived it.
When I returned home that night, I found my apartment door slightly open.
My heart dropped.
Inside, nothing was stolen. Nothing broken.
Except for one thing.
A single document lay on my table.
My father’s old company records.
And written across the top, in red ink:
STOP DIGGING.
My hands shook as I closed the door behind me.
So now they knew.
And this wasn’t just revenge anymore.
This was a warning.
And I had a feeling the next one wouldn’t be so polite.
- Writer
