TAMED BY MY ALPHA BOSS

THE SECRET BEHIND THE DOOR

The phone kept ringing.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

I stood completely still in the darkness, clutching the folder against my chest. Every instinct told me to leave, but my feet refused to move. The sound was coming from behind Damian Blackwood's office door—the same door I had been warned never to open without permission.

My heart hammered.

I reached for my phone and switched on the flashlight.

The narrow beam illuminated the corridor, revealing nothing unusual. Empty desks. Closed doors. Shadows stretching across the polished floor.

Then the phone rang again.

I looked at Damian's office.

The door was still locked.

I remembered Mrs. Collins's warning.

Never enter Mr. Blackwood's private office without permission.

I swallowed.

But Damian had just called me earlier that day.

Someone had accessed my credentials.

Someone had sent me threatening messages.

And now a photograph of my father was sitting on my desk.

Whatever was happening, pretending I hadn't seen it wasn't going to make it disappear.

I walked toward the executive office.

With every step, the ringing seemed louder.

I placed my hand on the door handle.

Locked.

I tried again.

Nothing.

Then I noticed a small electronic panel beside the door.

My employee badge was still hanging around my neck.

I stared at it.

There was no reason my badge should open Damian's private office.

I knew that.

But something made me swipe it anyway.

The panel flashed.

ACCESS GRANTED.

My stomach dropped.

The lock clicked.

I pushed the door open.

"Mr. Blackwood?"

No answer.

The room was dark except for the faint glow coming from a computer screen.

I stepped inside.

The office was exactly what I expected from a man like Damian—large, immaculate, and almost unnervingly organized. There was a massive desk facing the windows, shelves filled with files, and a wall covered with awards and photographs.

But something immediately caught my attention.

One photograph was missing.

A rectangular space on the wall showed where a frame had recently been removed.

I walked closer.

My father.

The thought came instantly.

I shook my head.

That was impossible.

I had to be imagining things.

Then I saw the photograph lying on the desk.

My breath caught.

It was the same picture from the folder.

My father stood beside a much younger Damian.

They weren't posing like strangers.

They looked like colleagues.

Or perhaps friends.

I picked up the photograph.

My fingers trembled.

"Why did you never tell me?"

The question escaped in a whisper.

Of course, the photograph couldn't answer.

Then I noticed something written on the back.

A date.

October 14, 2016.

And beneath it, three initials.

D.B. — A.F.

Damian Blackwood.

Adrian Field.

My father.

I stared at the initials until the letters blurred.

Ten years ago.

Exactly ten years.

The message had told me to ask Damian what happened ten years ago.

Someone knew about this photograph.

Someone wanted me to find it.

But why?

Before I could think further, the computer screen changed.

A notification appeared.

NEW FILE RECEIVED.

I froze.

The computer wasn't supposed to be active.

I moved closer.

Another notification appeared.

PROJECT AURORA — CONFIDENTIAL.

My curiosity battled with common sense.

Common sense lost.

I clicked the file.

A password screen appeared.

I frowned.

Then something caught my eye.

At the bottom of the screen was a line of text.

Enter authorized family name.

My fingers hovered over the keyboard.

I knew this was wrong.

I knew I should leave.

But there was only one family name I could think of.

I typed:

FIELD

The screen went black.

For one terrifying second, I thought I had triggered an alarm.

Then a folder opened.

My blood ran cold.

There were dozens of documents.

Financial reports.

Company records.

Photographs.

Old correspondence.

And one file labeled:

ADRIAN FIELD — CONFIDENTIAL

I clicked it.

The first page appeared.

My father's photograph was at the top.

Below it was information about his employment history.

I read the first few lines.

Then I stopped breathing.

My father hadn't simply known Damian.

He had worked for Wellspring Group.

And according to the document, he hadn't left voluntarily.

He had been accused of stealing confidential company funds.

"No."

I shook my head.

"My father wouldn't do that."

I continued reading.

The accusation had been made ten years ago.

The investigation had been closed without a conviction.

But the money had never been recovered.

My father's name had been removed from the company's official records shortly afterward.

I stepped back from the desk.

This couldn't be real.

If my father had been accused of stealing from Wellspring, why had nobody ever told me?

Why had Damian never mentioned him?

And why had someone waited ten years to bring this back?

A noise came from the hallway.

I froze.

Footsteps.

Someone was coming.

I quickly closed the file.

The footsteps stopped outside the office.

I switched off the computer.

Darkness swallowed the room.

The door handle moved.

I held my breath.

The door opened.

A figure stepped inside.

I pressed myself against the wall, trying not to make a sound.

The person walked toward the desk.

I couldn't see their face.

They picked up something.

Then they spoke quietly into a phone.

"She found the file."

My heart nearly stopped.

She?

They knew I was here.

The stranger continued.

"Yes. She opened it."

A pause.

"No, she doesn't know everything yet."

My blood ran cold.

The person turned toward the door.

I had seconds.

I quietly moved toward the opposite side of the room.

But my shoe touched something on the floor.

A soft click.

The stranger stopped.

"Who's there?"

I ran.

I pushed through the side door and hurried down the emergency staircase, my heartbeat pounding in my ears.

Behind me, the office door slammed open.

"Stop!"

I didn't.

I ran down two flights before hearing another door open below me.

Someone else was coming.

I stopped.

I was trapped.

Then a hand grabbed my wrist.

I almost screamed.

"Quiet."

I looked up.

Damian Blackwood.

My entire body froze.

He was standing in the stairwell wearing a dark coat, his expression hard and his eyes fixed on me.

"What are you doing here?"

I couldn't speak.

His gaze dropped to the folder clutched against my chest.

Then his expression changed.

"Where did you get that?"

I swallowed.

"Your office."

His jaw tightened.

"You entered my office?"

"I had a reason."

"What reason?"

I held up the photograph.

"Because this was inside."

His eyes landed on the picture.

The color seemed to drain from his face.

He took it from my hand.

For several seconds, he simply stared at it.

Then he looked at me.

"Where did you find this?"

"On your desk."

His voice became quieter.

"Who else knows?"

"I don't know."

"Elena."

His tone was sharper now.

"Who else knows about this photograph?"

"I don't know!"

My voice cracked.

"I found a file about my father. Someone sent me a message telling me to ask you what happened ten years ago. Then someone came into your office and said I had found the file."

Damian went completely still.

"Someone was in my office?"

"Yes."

"Did you see their face?"

"No."

"What did they say?"

I repeated everything I had heard.

He listened without interrupting.

When I finished, his expression had become unreadable.

Then he asked the question I wasn't prepared for.

"Did you read your father's file?"

I nodded.

"Yes."

"What did you see?"

"The accusation."

Silence.

"He was accused of stealing from Wellspring."

Damian looked away.

"That's what the records say."

I stared at him.

"But is it true?"

He didn't answer.

My chest tightened.

"Damian."

It was the first time I had called him by his name.

He looked at me.

"Was my father guilty?"

His expression hardened.

"No."

The answer came so quickly that I almost didn't understand it.

"What?"

"Your father didn't steal anything."

I stared at him.

"Then why was he accused?"

"Because someone needed a scapegoat."

The words echoed in the stairwell.

"Who?"

Damian's eyes darkened.

"That's what I've been trying to find out for ten years."

I couldn't move.

"Then why didn't you tell me?"

His expression changed.

"I didn't know who you were."

I frowned.

"You didn't know who I was?"

"Not until yesterday."

"But my name is Elena Field."

"I know."

"Your system had my application."

"I didn't personally review it."

I stared at him.

"So you really didn't know?"

"No."

For some reason, that answer made me feel both relieved and more frightened.

Because if Damian hadn't known who I was...

Then someone else had.

Someone had deliberately brought me into Wellspring Group.

Someone had made sure I became his assistant.

Someone had known my father's history.

And someone had been waiting for me to discover it.

A sudden sound echoed from the floor above.

Damian immediately looked up.

"Stay here."

He started toward the stairs.

I grabbed his sleeve before thinking.

"Don't."

He stopped.

"If they're still there..."

He looked at my hand, then back at me.

"I'm not going after them."

He pulled out his phone.

"I'm calling security."

We stood in silence while he made the call.

Then his phone buzzed.

He glanced at the screen.

His expression changed instantly.

"What is it?" I asked.

He didn't answer.

He turned the screen toward me.

It was a message from an unknown number.

There was only one sentence.

YOU SHOULD HAVE LEFT HER ALONE, DAMIAN.

My blood ran cold.

Damian's eyes met mine.

And suddenly I understood something.

This wasn't just about my father anymore.

Whoever had brought me into Wellspring Group wasn't trying to destroy me alone.

They were trying to get to Damian through me.

And they had just made it clear that they were watching us.