RUTHLESS DEVOTION: THE EMPIRE BETWEEN US

ECHOED THREAT

Amilah stepped out of the Porsche and froze. The towering glass monolith of the Vance Empire pierced the morning sky, cold and imposing. Somewhere up there was a man who was ruthlessly claiming her body and soul, inch by inch, every single day. She let out a heavy, shaky exhale and forced her feet to move.

The moment her heels clicked against the polished marble inside the rotating glass doors, the lobby fell into a breathless hush. Rumors from the fashion department had already spread like wildfire. The employees especially the men turned to stare, completely in awe. She looked stunning, mature, elegant, and fragile, a striking contrast to the toxic, overbearing presence of Victoria Jackson.

Amilah offered a polite, quiet smile and glided directly toward the private executive elevator. Behind her, the lobby immediately erupted into frantic whispers.

"I heard she's the official future Mrs. Vance."

"Who knows? She'll probably end up discarded just like Victoria. Trusting these ruthless billionaires is a complete waste of time."

"Exactly. She's going to suffer the exact same fate."

Inside the elevator, the heavy doors slid shut, locking out the noise. Alone in the silence, the vivid memory of last night crashed over her. She could practically feel the rough weight of Lowin's hands pinning her hips, the burning heat of his skin, and the possessiveness of his mouth. A sudden, dangerous flush crawled up her neck, and her heart began to hammer against her ribs.

Amilah violently shook her head, forcing her professional logic to kick back in. No, she told herself. They were business partners on this floor. She had to keep her distance at work.

The elevator doors chimed open. She walked straight toward the Fashion Department without looking back. She knew damn well that if she looked toward his office, she would end up inside it. And who knew if that shameless beast would pull her onto his lap and continue exactly where he had left off last night?

The thought made a helpless, wicked giggle escape her lips instantly startling Tom, who was standing in the corridor with a clipboard.

"Uh-good morning, ma'am," Tom stammered, adjusting his glasses. "Your breakfast has already been delivered to your office."

Amilah cleared her throat, her face burning. "Good morning, Tom. Breakfast?"

"Yes. The Boss personally sent it over. He left strict orders that you must eat before you touch a single piece of work."

A soft, helpless smile touched Amilah's lips. "Thank you, Tom."

Tom nodded and hurried away, silently thanking the heavens that Amilah wasn't a toxic, arrogant monster like Victoria. If a woman like Victoria became Mrs. Vance, he would have gladly ended his own life rather than serve her.

Amilah stepped into the massive, open creative space. "Good morning, everyone," she said, her voice warm and clear.

The designers and assistants swapped surprised glances, completely unaccustomed to such genuine kindness from a superior. They quickly nodded, greeting her back. Amilah's sharp eyes scanned the room, noting one obvious absence.

"Diana," Amilah called out, walking over to a senior desk. "Where is Victoria?"

Diana tilted her head toward the glass partitioning. "She's lurking in the lounge. There's no work left for her massive the moment so she's just sitting there."

Amilah's dark brows snapped together. Sitting leisurely while the rest of the floor works? Not a chance.

Before she could move, Dan from the logistics department strode onto the floor, carrying a digital manifest. He spotted Amilah and walked straight over. "Good morning, ma'am. The new raw fabrics and emeralds have officially arrived at the loading dock. We just need your physical signature once you inspect the packages to ensure everything is accounted for."

"How are the boxes getting up to my floor?" Amilah asked.

"That's typically the janitors' job to bring the boxes up," Dan explained. "Don't worry, it's completely handled."

"I'm not worried," Amilah murmured, a wicked spark flashing in her eyes. "Tell the janitors to take a break. Someone else is going to carry the packages up today."

Dan blinked, thoroughly confused. "But... that's their designated job."

Amilah reached out, patting his shoulder with a chillingly sweet smile. "Well, thanks to your big boss's immense generosity, we currently have an idle errand girl on this floor who has absolutely nothing to do."

A collective, terrified gasp rippled across the creative desks. Poor Victoria. She is completely done for.

Dan shifted on his feet, sweating under his collar. "Are you... are you referring to Victoria Jackson, ma'am? I really don't think Mr. Vance will approve of that."

"And why wouldn't he?" Amilah countered, slowly crossing her arms tightly over her chest.

"Well... because her hands are severely injured," Dan stammered. "I don't think she's physically capable of lifting heavy cargo boxes right now."

Amilah's expression hardened into unforgiving steel as the memory of Victoria pushing her down the stairs flashed in her mind. Her motherly instincts flared. "If she can't lift them, then the janitors shouldn't have to either. It's entirely her own fault that her hands are ruined. She will figure out a way."

"But Mr. Vance-"

Amilah cut him off, lifting her hand in a sharp dismissal. She slid her phone from her pocket and dialed a direct line. The call connected instantly, and Lowin's deep, terrifyingly cold voice filled the line.

"Good morning, sweetheart," he murmured, his tone rough and slow.

"Good morning," Amilah said, her voice dropping into a professional register. "Can I put you on speakerphone? I need your help with something."

"Alright..." Lowin murmured on the other end. He knew damn well his little bird was trying to make him behave because others were listening, but a dark, wicked smirk spread across his lips.

Amilah tapped the speaker button, holding the phone out. "The thing is, the raw fabrics have arrived at the dock, and there's currently no one available to haul them up to the department. I want Victoria to do it, since she's currently sitting completely idle in the lounge."

Lowin let out a low, rough chuckle that vibrated through the speaker. He knew perfectly well the janitorial staff could handle it in minutes. But if his fierce little bird wanted to break Victoria's pride, he would gladly hand her the hammer.

"Of course she should do it," Lowin growled smoothly into the microphone. "You don't ever have to ask for my permission when you want something done in this empire, sweetheart. You hold the authority. Just give the order."

The surrounding employees visually paled, a few of them nearly fainting. The ruthless, bloodthirsty Lowin Vance had just used an incredibly tender pet name in front of the entire office and worse, he had just granted Amilah power over his corporate kingdom.

Amilah felt a massive headache instantly throbbing behind her eyes. I literally told this i***t he was on speaker, why the hell is he misbehaving on purpose?

"Okay," Amilah muttered, her cheeks burning. "I'll let her know."

"If she refuses to move, do not show her a single ounce of mercy," Lowin added, his voice dropping into a dark, possessive rasp. "And don't you dare forget to eat every single bite of your breakfast, Amy. If I find out you starved yourself, I'll come down to your floor and punish you personally. Remember exactly what happened last night?"

Amilah wished the polished marble floor would violently split open and swallow her whole. Her entire face flushed an aggressive shade of crimson.

"Goodbye, Mr. Vance!" she snapped, quickly cutting the call before he could say another word. She cursed him a thousand times in her mind. She turned back to the stunned staff, her voice sharp. "Send Victoria to my office right now."

Amilah turned on her heel and marched into her suite, slamming the frosted glass door behind her. Outside, the employees dramatically clutched their chests, panting.

"I am positive that lunatic has completely lost his mind."

"I completely agree. Is the Big Boss possessed?"

"God, she is so incredibly lucky. He's completely whipped."

Victoria had just stepped out of the lounge, holding a cup of coffee, when Lowin's booming voice echoed over the speakerphone. She had heard every single word. Pure venom boiled over in her veins. Blinded by a toxic rage, she marched across the floor, violently threw Amilah's glass door open, and stormed inside without even bothering to knock.

"What is wrong with that witch?" one designer whispered.

"Are you blind? She's violently jealous."

The floor broke out into a quiet, hearty round of laughter, thoroughly enjoying Victoria's brutal torment.

Inside the massive office, Amilah had just been hugging Lyla, who was quietly sitting on the plush sofa, enjoying her morning espresso while reading a design look book. Both of them jolted, startled by the sudden, violent slam of the door.

Amilah narrowed her eyes at the trembling heiress. "Didn't your father teach you a single ounce of basic manners, Victoria?"

"I don't give a rat's ass about manners, you low-class b***h!" Victoria shrieked, her voice cracking with fury. "If you hadn't forced your way into his bed, you wouldn't even be breathing the air in this tower! And now you actually think you have the right to order me around? Dream on, you pathetic slut."

Amilah rubbed her temples, an intense irritation washing over her. "Could you please get over your psychotic obsession with a man who doesn't even look in your direction twice? You are profoundly embarrassing yourself."

Blinded by pure malice, Victoria stepped forward, aggressively closing the gap between them. Lyla's smile instantly vanished, and she quickly bolted up from the sofa to stand beside Amilah.

"It's perfectly fine, Lyla," Amilah stated coldly, her gaze locked on her attacker. "She wouldn't dare do a single thing. Besides... her hands aren't exactly functioning right now."

Lyla let out a sharp, mocking laugh, nodding in agreement. "True."

"But my legs work just f*****g fine!" Victoria screamed.

She violently lifted her designer heel, launching a vicious kick directly toward Amilah's stomach.

Amilah and Lyla gasped in pure shock. But before the heel could even graze Amilah's clothes, a heavy, shadowed figure materialized from the doorway.

A massive, brutal hand shot forward, instantly wrapping tight around Victoria's thick hair. With a single twist of raw force, the figure violently threw Victoria across the length of the room.

Smack!

Victoria's body collided hard against the reinforced glass wall before she slid down, her heavily bandaged palms striking the hard wooden floor. She let out a piercing, blood-curdling scream of agony as the friction tore at her healing wounds.

The loud crash instantly drew the terrified eyes of every employee on the creative floor.

Tom stood over her, his usual nervous demeanor completely gone, replaced by a cold detachment. He slowly squatted down beside her trembling form. The cold aura radiating off him made Victoria violently shiver in panic.

"Please behave yourself like a grown woman, Ms. Jackson," Tom whispered, his voice coming out deeply cold, flat, and terrifyingly steady. He didn't even look at her as he glanced over his shoulder toward the sofa. "Ma'am, are you okay?"

Amilah swallowed hard, her heart racing against her ribs. "H-Huh? Yes. I'm fine, Tom."

"Good," Tom nodded, his eyes tracking the blood beginning to seep through Victoria's wraps. "I will let the Boss know the exact details of what just transpired here."

"I didn't do anything, you f*****g nerd!" Victoria sobbed, clutching her bleeding right hand to her chest as she shook.

"You can explain that direct defense to Mr. Vance yourself," Tom replied smoothly, his tone empty.

Amilah stepped forward trembling, her voice cutting through the heavy silence like steel. "Forget about it, Tom. Let her do the exact work she was assigned to do." She walked over, looking down at the weeping disgusting woman "Get your ass up off my floor and head down to the loading dock. I want every single package of fabric neatly organized in the inventory storeroom before 2PM. Move."

Victoria rolled her eyes through her tears, trembling as she pushed past Tom. She stormed out of the private office, the heavy bandage on her right palm visibly dripping dark red blood onto the floor.

Inside the quiet office, Amilah checked the gold Rolex on her wrist 9:30 AM.

Her brow furrowed into deep, anxious lines. Beryl hadn't called the reception desk yet. She was absolutely sure there was no morning traffic today. Why the hell is she late?

Tom stepped toward the desk, his professional mask slipping back on. "Press the intercom unit on your desk the exact second you need anything at all, ma'am."

"Don't worry, Tom. My secretary will be here any minute. You can head back and focus on your own work," Amilah said, trying to shake off the uneasy feeling coiling tight in her gut.

Tom nodded rapidly, a massive wave of pure relief washing over his face. He could finally escape to his office and focus entirely on preparing the massive financial audit report for the upcoming summer collection without any psychotic interruptions. Lowin was locked into a brutal, five-hour board meeting today; for the next five hours, Tom wouldn't have to look into the eyes of that heartless, terrifying creature. He bowed slightly and excused himself from the suite.

Lyla walked back over to the sofa, shaking her head as she picked up her espresso cup. "That b***h really has some nerves... if Lowin ever hears a single detail about her trying to kick you, she is definitely going to lose that leg permanently."

Amilah shivered, a cold dread striking her chest. Thankfully, she hadn't personally experienced that monstrous, bloodthirsty side of Lowin Vance yet and as she stared out the massive windows at the glittering city, she silently prayed to God she never would.

Amilah pulled out her phone, her fingers trembling slightly as she dialed Beryl's number. She held it to her ear, listening to the heavy, continuous ringing but no response came.

Lyla set her coffee cup down, noticing the sudden shift in her posture. "What's wrong?"

"Beryl is not picking up my calls," Amilah murmured, a tiny knot of anxiety tightening in her chest. "She was supposed to be here by now."

Before she could redial, her phone violently vibrated against her palm. Thinking it was her assistant, she opened it instantly.

[Lowin]: EAT YOUR BREAKFAST. I was hoping to see you before I walked into that boardroom for five agonizing hours, but I can't afford to let your sweet lips distract me right now. I'll see you the exact second this meeting ends. Don't overwork yourself. And I will personally deal with Victoria afterward. Tom already debriefed me on what happened. I LOVE YOU.

A warm, helpless smile broke across Amilah's face, the terrifying imagery of Victoria's fall completely dissolving. Her fingers flew across the keyboard.

[Amilah]: Good luck, hubby. You've got this... I'll make sure to get you the most delicious food that will take away the boardroom stress the moment you step out of those doors.

[Lowin]: And you'll be that food.

[Amilah]: Shameless.

Inside the executive hallway, Lowin stared at the screen and let out a rare, low chuckle. He fired off a laughing emoji just as he gathered his thick folder of documents. He strode directly into the grand boardroom, joining the Salvatore brothers who had just arrived for the meeting.

"Good morning," Lowin growled, his baseline dominant authority returning in full force.

They responded with a curt nod. Debrin immediately checked his heavy gold watch, about to excuse himself to sneak out and see his baby. Lowin didn't even look up as his massive hand shot out, grabbing Debrin's hand in a iron grip.

"Sit the f**k down," Lowin commanded, his voice a low warning.

Debrin rolled his eyes, a flare of pure irritation crossing his face. He was missing Lyla so badly he just wanted to go see her. "I need to use the restroom, dude."

Lowin's dark eyes locked onto his, unblinking. "I'm not stupid, Debrin."

Damien adjusted his cuffs, his sharp gaze cutting between the two. "What's wrong with you two?"

Lowin and Debrin snapped back in perfect, defensive unison. "It's nothing."

Damien and Dane raised their eyebrows in unison, a dangerous, amused glint in their eyes. "You two are acting incredibly suspicious," Dane muttered.

"Let's focus," Lowin growled.

Right on cue, the high-ranking board members arrived one by one, their expressions shifting to pure surprise as they found Lowin Vance and the entire Salvatore inner circle already seated at the head of the table, radiating absolute power.

Back inside the design suite, Amilah sat down in her executive leather chair, finally drawing a deep breath. The rich, savory aroma of the roasted chicken Tom had ordered filled the air, making her mouth water instantly. She took a huge, hearty bite, chewing the content happily as the delicious flavor hit her senses.

Sitting across from her on the sofa, Lyla giggled at how intensely she was enjoying the meal. "Be careful, you might choke."

Amilah lifted her phone, chewing the food heartily as she nodded slightly at Lyla's remarks, her skin looking radiant in the soft office lighting.

The phone violently vibrated in her hand again. Assuming it was Lowin sneaking another shameless text before the lock, she tapped the screen, taking another delicious bite of her chicken as her eyes scanned the header.

[Unknown]

Amilah's brow furrowed into deep, anxious lines. She tapped the message open, letting the content fully load.

The moment the text and media loaded, Amilah stood up so abruptly her executive chair violently slammed back against the wall. Her face completely drained of color, her wide eyes widening further into a mask of pure horror.

Her fingers lost all their strength. The phone slipped from her hand, dropping heavily onto the mahogany desk with a dull, echoing thud.

The exact second the device hit the wood, the black screen violently flashed to life. A sharp, terrifying, and deafening ring shattered the silence of the office.

The screen blared, lighting up her face with a single, haunting word.

UNKNOWN