ChapterFour
1256 Words
THE BREAKFAST
ELARA'S POV
"And you must be Miss Hayes." His smile widens. "My cousin couldn't stop talking about you. Said losing you was the biggest mistake he made last year."
"That's very kind of him."
"Please, sit." Chen gestures to the chair beside him, not across the table where I'd be next to Julian, but beside Chen himself.
A power play.
Julian notices. I can see it in the way his jaw tightens almost imperceptibly.
I sit across from Julian instead. "I prefer to take notes from here. Better angle."
Chen's smile doesn't falter, but something flickers in his eyes. Annoyance.
Point to me.
The waiter appears, takes orders I don't hear because I'm too busy watching Chen. The way he leans back when Julian talks numbers. The way his left hand drums against the table when he's buying time to think. The slight tightening around his eyes when Julian mentions the stake percentage.
Julian is right. Chen wants more than he's saying.
The breakfast stretches on. Eggs I don't taste. Coffee I don't need. Conversation that circles around the real issue like sharks circling prey.
Finally, Chen leans forward. "Twenty percent, Julian. That's my final offer."
"Fifteen," Julian counters. "That's mine."
"Then we have a problem."
"No." Julian sets down his coffee cup with a soft click. "You have a problem. I have other options."
Chen's jaw tightens. "There are no other options with this kind of capital ready to move."
"Are you certain about that?"
The silence that follows is sharp enough to cut.
I watch Chen's face. Watch the micro-expressions Julian mentioned. The slight widening of his eyes. The way his breathing changes.
He's bluffing.
He needs this deal more than Julian does.
I catch Julian's eye and give the smallest shake of my head.
He sees it. Understands immediately.
"Fifteen percent, Richard. Take it or leave it."
Chen stares at him for a long moment. Then at me. Then back to Julian.
"Fine," he says finally. "Fifteen."
Julian doesn't smile. Doesn't gloat. Just nods once. "My lawyers will have the contracts ready by Friday."
They shake hands again.
Chen stands, straightens his jacket. Then he looks at me. "Miss Hayes, if you ever find yourself looking for a new position…."
"She won't," Julian says before I can respond.
Chen's smile is cold now. "Of course. Well, it was a pleasure meeting you."
"Likewise."
He leaves.
Julian signals for the check, which appears instantly.
We don't speak until we're back in the car.
"How did you know?" Julian asks as the driver pulls into traffic.
"Know what?"
"That he was bluffing."
"His breathing changed. And his eyes went to the left before he made the offer. People tend to look left when they're constructing rather than remembering."
Julian stares at me. "Where did you learn that?"
"Books," I lie.
The truth is I learned it from Marcus. From three years of training to read people, to see their weaknesses, to find the cracks in their armor.
"You're going to be very useful," Julian says quietly.
The words should make me feel victorious.
Instead, they make me feel sick.
Because I am useful. Just not in the way he thinks.
My phone vibrates in my pocket. I ignore it.
Julian goes back to his phone, typing rapidly.
I stare out the window at the city sliding past and wonder how long I can keep this up. How long before he sees through me the way I see through everyone else.
My phone vibrates again. Insistent.
I pull it out carefully, angle it so Julian can't see the screen.
Unknown number.
The dinner Friday. We need you to record it. Everything he says. Everything his father says.
My hands go cold.
I delete the message. Turn off the phone.
When I look up, Julian is watching me.
"Everything all right?" he asks.
"Fine. Just my phone being temperamental."
He nods, but his eyes linger on me for a beat too long.
He's suspicious.
Or I'm paranoid.
Maybe both.
The car pulls up to the estate. Julian gets out first, doesn't wait for me to follow.
"Calendar assessment by end of day," he reminds me. "Meridian summary by three. And I need you to sit in on a call at one, I'll send you the details."
Then he's gone, striding toward the house with that controlled, economical walk.
I stay in the car for a moment, letting my heart rate slow.
The driver catches my eye in the rearview mirror. "First day?"
"Is it that obvious?"
"You lasted longer than the last three." His eyes crinkle with something that might be sympathy. "Word of advice? Don't try to manage him. He doesn't need managing. Just... keep up."
"I'll do my best."
I get out and head toward the guest quarters.
My phone buzzes the moment I'm inside.
Marcus this time.
Report. Now.
I type quickly: Access confirmed. Trust building. Need more time.
You don't have more time. Friday is critical. We need that recording.
I'll get it.
See that you do. Too much is riding on this.
I delete the conversation and throw the phone on the bed.
Three years of planning. Three years of preparing. And now I have seventy-two hours to record a conversation between Julian and his father that could bring down an empire.
No pressure.
I open the laptop, pull up the calendar Julian sent me.
My job is to find inefficiencies.
Instead, I find something else.
Friday's dinner with Christopher Blackthorne isn't at a restaurant. It's not at the estate.
It's at an address I recognize.
The same building where my brother died.
My hands start shaking.
This isn't a coincidence. It can't be.
A knock at the door makes me jump.
I close the laptop and answer it.
Mrs. Chen stands there with a stack of papers. "Your NDA. Sign every page. Initial every clause. Mr. Blackthorne wants it back within the hour."
I take the papers. They're thick. Dense. Exactly as weaponized as Julian promised.
"Thank you."
Mrs. Chen doesn't leave. Just studies me with those sharp eyes.
"You're different from the others," she says finally.
"So I've heard."
"I haven't decided if that's good or bad yet."
"Neither have I."
That almost makes her smile. Almost.
"One more thing, Miss Hayes. Whatever you're running from, and everyone who comes here is running from something, make sure it doesn't catch up to you while you're under this roof. Mr. Blackthorne doesn't tolerate complications."
Then she's gone.
I close the door and lean against it.
Too late, I want to tell her. It already caught up to me.
I spread the NDA across the desk. Flip through page after page of legal language designed to silence me completely.
If I sign this, I'm committing to a lie.
If I don't sign it, I lose access.
I pick up the pen.
My brother's photograph watches me from the dresser.
"I'm sorry," I whisper. "I'm so sorry."
Then I sign my name on every page.
By the time I finish, my hand is cramping and my conscience is screaming.
But I'm in.
I'm really in.
Now I just have to survive long enough to finish what I started.
My phone buzzes one more time.
Another unknown number.
Friday. The building. Second floor, east conference room. 8 PM. Don't be late. And Elara? He can't know you're recording. If he finds out, you're both dead.
The message disappears.
I sit there staring at the blank screen, my heart hammering against my ribs.
- Writer
