DON'T FALL FOR THE ENEMY

ELENA VANCOURT “You really thought we’d let you keep it, Elena? You’re just a stray we brought in to feed, and now you’re trying to bite the hand that keeps you relevant.” My adoptive mother, Beatrice, didn't even look at me when she said it. She was busy checking her reflection in a compact mirror, adjusting a diamond earring. “I built Vancourt Tech from the ground up,” I said. “I put in the work. I took the risks. You didn’t even believe in the project until the first quarterly profits came in.” Victor, my adoptive father, laughed from across the room as he poured himself a drink. He looked like a man who enjoyed watching me explain how I was claiming something that was mine while he'd remind me how much I ‘owe’ them. “And that’s exactly why it belongs to the family now,” Victor said, turning to face me. “You used our name to get through, you used our connections to secure those initial meetings. Did you really think you were going to be the boss forever? You’re twenty-six, Elena. You should be focused on finding a husband who can actually help this family, not playing CEO in a pantsuit.” “I’m not signing it over,” I replied. Victor’s face changed instantly. The fake warmth disappeared, and he walked over until he was standing right in front of me. He was taller, broader, and he knew how to use his size to make people feel small and intimidated. “Listen to me, you ungrateful brat,” he hissed, and I could smell the expensive scotch on his breath. “We took you in when you had nothing. We clothed you, fed you, and gave you a life most people would die for. You owe us. If you don’t sign those merger papers, I will liquidate your company by the end of the week. I’ll make sure your investors pull out, and I’ll tell the press you’ve been embezzling funds. Who do you think they’ll believe? A respected philanthropist or a girl who doesn't even know who her real parents are?” I felt a sting behind my eyes, but I refused to cry in front of him. I had spent my whole life trying to earn their love, and I had worked myself to the bone to prove I was worth the space I took up in their house. But it was never enough. I was just someone they used and dumped. “You’d destroy the company just to spite me?” I asked. “It’s not spite, Elena. It’s business,” Beatrice said, finally closing her compact with a sharp click. “Now, go get ready for the masquerade ball. We have investors to impress, and I won't have you looking like a mess because you’ve been throwing a tantrum. Wear the silver dress I bought you. It makes you look less like a charity case.” I left the room without another word. I went to my room and stared at the silver dress hanging on the wardrobe. It was beautiful, but it felt like a uniform for a role I didn't want to play anymore. I spent an hour doing my makeup, hiding the exhaustion under layers of foundation. I put on the silver dress and the matching mask that covered the upper half of my face. I looked like a Vancourt. I looked successful and polished and perfectly hollow. The masquerade was held at a massive gallery in Chelsea. The room was filled with gold light, and everyone was wearing masks. It was supposed to be a night of mystery, but all I felt was a deep, aching loneliness. I moved through the crowd, nodding to people I barely knew and dodging Beatrice’s watchful eyes. I needed a drink as I made my way to the bar and ordered something strong. I didn't care what it was. I just wanted the burning in my chest to stop. I signaled the bartender for another drink, my third one in the last hour, I needed the liquid courage to get through the rest of this night without screaming at Beatrice. Every time she looked my way, I could feel her judging my posture and my dress. I leaned against the bar, the room starting to tilt just a little, and that was when I saw Beatrice heading toward me with that sharp, cold look in her eyes. "s**t," I muttered, looking for an exit. I turned to run, but I bumped straight into a solid wall of a man. He didn't move an inch, but his hands came up to steady my shoulders. I looked up, and my breath hitched. He was wearing a dark mask, but I could feel the intensity behind it. "Careful, Elena," he said. His voice was deep, and it vibrated right through my chest. I leaned into him, partly because I was dizzy and partly because I needed to hide my face from Beatrice. I stood on my tiptoes and whispered into his ear. "Please, just take me outside. Now." I didn't wait for him to agree as I grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the glass doors leading to the terrace. He didn't resist, he just followed me out into the cool night air, his grip on my hand firm and once the doors closed behind us, the noise of the party died down. "You’re drunk," he stated. "I'm stressed," I corrected him, letting go of his hand to grip the stone railing. The city lights were a blur in front of me. "And how do you know my name? I don't know you." "I’m Killian," he said, stepping close. He was so close I was starting to become nervous. "And you should know that I make it my business to know everything about the things I want." I looked up at him, my head spinning. "The things you want? Are you shopping for something?" He chuckled. "I'm not," he said, and his voice dropped. He reached out and brushed a stray hair away from my face. His fingers were warm, and my skin tingled where he touched me. "I’ve been watching you all night. You don’t belong in there with those people." "You don't know anything about me," I snapped, but my heart was hammering against my ribs. "I know you're Elena Vancourt," he countered. He leaned down, his face inches from mine. "I know you're fighting for a company they want to steal from you. And I know you want to leave this place as much as I do." I stared at him, stunned. “No one is stealing anything from me and I surely don't need your help," I said but I could only watch him smile, it was one I couldn't detect what kind of smile it was. "Let's go," he only whispered.