Part 3 of Chapter 1: The Last Name That Mattered
662 Words
( Elena meets Damian Alaric for the first time)
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The Alaric Building looked like it didn’t belong in Lagos.
It towered over the city like it ruled it — all glass and steel and secrets. Thirty-eight floors of wealth, whispers, and blood. Elena stepped out of the taxi in her mother’s black coat, chin high, eyes cold, fire hidden beneath calm.
Inside, security tried to stop her. She didn’t flinch.
“I’m here to see Damian Alaric,” she said.
The guards exchanged a quick glance. One of them smirked, the kind of smirk people give to someone who doesn't know they're walking into hell.
“Mr. Alaric doesn’t take walk-ins.”
“Tell him Elena Vaine is here,” she said flatly. “And tell him I know about the 2017 contract with Evelyn Vaine.”
That wiped the smirk off their faces.
One made a call. Less than two minutes later, they escorted her to the executive elevator — no questions asked.
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The elevator doors opened into a marble office, wide enough to fit a yacht. Floor-to-ceiling windows. Black leather furniture. Crystal whiskey glasses. Everything expensive, everything perfect.
And him.
Damian Alaric.
He sat behind a desk the size of a dining table, dressed in a navy suit, his fingers steepled beneath his chin. His eyes — cold, unreadable — followed her as she walked in. He didn’t rise. Didn’t smile. Didn’t speak.
He didn’t need to.
He was the kind of man who made silence feel like thunder.
Elena didn’t sit.
“You knew my mother,” she said, voice steady.
“I knew a lot of people.” His voice was low. Deep. Polished like glass, but sharper than a blade.
“You signed a contract with her.”
He leaned back slightly, studying her. “She had a habit of signing things she didn’t understand.”
“She’s dead.”
“I noticed,” he said, not a flicker of emotion in his tone.
Elena’s jaw clenched. “You were supposed to protect her. She trusted you.”
“That was her first mistake,” he said calmly.
Silence stretched between them. Thick. Heavy.
Finally, she asked, “Why are you still alive?”
That made his brow lift, just a little.
“You think I had her killed?”
“I think you have enough power to make people disappear.”
“And yet you’re standing in my office,” he replied smoothly. “Alone. Brave. Stupid.”
“I’m not afraid of you,” Elena said, eyes locked on his.
“Then you haven’t done your research.”
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He stood slowly. Tall. Dangerous. His presence swallowed the room whole. He walked around the desk and stopped in front of her.
“I liked your mother,” he said. “She was elegant. Calculated. Quiet.”
“I’m not her.”
“No,” he said softly. “You’re louder. More reckless. More... emotional.”
He stepped closer. Too close.
“But you’re also beautiful,” he added, his voice dropping like a secret. “And brave. That’s rare. And rare things... I collect.”
Elena’s heart skipped, but she didn’t back down. “You don’t own me.”
He smiled for the first time. Cold. Cruel.
“Not yet.”
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She stepped back.
“I came here for answers,” she said. “Not threats.”
He walked to the bar, poured himself a glass of something golden, and sipped slowly. “You want answers? Then sit down. And be ready to trade something for them.”
Elena hesitated.
But she sat.
Because whatever this man knew... it was the last key to her family’s truth. And she wasn’t leaving without it.
Even if it meant burning what was left of her soul to get it.
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👉 Part 4 (continuing Chapter 1) coming up next:
Damian makes her an offer she can’t ignore — or survive. Want me to continue?
- Writer
