2025-11-06 20:04:50The next morning, Tessa arrived earlier than usual—nearly an hour before the rest of the staff. She needed the silence. She needed space to settle her nerves, to review her new responsibilities, and to make sure there were no flaws—no mistakes.
Mr. Kane’s office was on the top floor, behind a set of glass doors that required fingerprint access. A security officer was already stationed nearby.
Tessa took a quiet breath.
“You’re Miss Hart?” the guard asked, scanning her face.
“Yes.”
He nodded once and entered a new authorization code. “You’re cleared. Don’t lose your keycard. And don’t let anyone in behind you.”
There was an unspoken warning in his tone.
Rooms like this didn’t just hold files or schedules.
The door clicked open.
The office was enormous—yet somehow quiet. Calm. No clutter. No personal photos. Not even a plant.
Just power, arranged into clean lines and precise geometry.
The city skyline spread below like something Elias Kane had designed himself.
Tessa stepped inside.
And there he was.
Already at his desk.
As if he’d been waiting.
“You’re early,” he said without looking up.
“So are you,” she replied before she could stop herself.
He paused.
Then looked up slowly.
A flicker of something—not irritation—something more like amusement—crossed his expression.
“Good. You’ll need to match my pace,” he said.
He handed her a tablet. “Your responsibilities begin now.”
Tessa took it, scanning the screen. A list of upcoming meetings, acquisition targets, and confidential correspondences opened in front of her.
But one item stood out:
9:10 AM — Meeting with Cassandra Pierce (Confidential)
Do not allow Pierce access to internal financials. Manage tone. Maintain distance. Watch for concealed agenda.
Tessa raised her eyes. “What do you need from me during the meeting?”
Elias leaned back.
“Observe,” he said. “Listen. And say nothing.”
His eyes held hers.
“People reveal more when they think you are insignificant.”
There it was again—that unsettling clarity.
He dissected them.
Tessa nodded once.
“I understand.”
By 9:05 AM, Cassandra Pierce arrived.
The kind of woman who walked into a room expecting the world to shift for her. Red lips. Perfect posture. A smile sharp enough to draw blood.
“Oh, Elias,” she said, stepping forward as though they were old lovers instead of business rivals. “It has been far too long.”
Elias didn’t move to greet her.
“Tessa, please take minutes,” he said instead, his tone flat.
Cassandra’s eyes flickered to Tessa—assessing, dismissing—then returned to Elias.
“I heard rumors,” Cassandra began, placing a folder on the table. “Your company is positioning itself to disrupt the shipping sector in East Africa. Which is interesting, considering that sector was already—how should I say it? Occupied.”
Her smile did not reach her eyes.
Tessa watched Elias carefully.
He didn’t react.
Not even a shift of breath.
“That’s incorrect,” Elias said simply.
Cassandra blinked—too quickly.
Tessa wrote it down.
The silence stretched—just long enough for Cassandra to feel it.
“Then perhaps,” Cassandra said, leaning forward, “you and I should consider a partnership—before someone less… agreeable makes their move.”
Elias turned to Tessa.
“Miss Hart. The email from Shanghai. Read it.”
Tessa opened the message immediately. Her voice remained steady:
“‘Shipping lane rights between Kenya and Oman have completed transfer. Confirmation of ownership: Kane Global.’”
Cassandra’s smile froze.
Checkmate—executed with one sentence.
Silently.
Cleanly.
She had come to threaten.
She left outplayed.
Cassandra gathered her things—slowly, trying to recover pride she no longer had.
“Pleasure, as always,” she murmured, though her voice had lost its sweetness.
The door closed behind her.
Silence returned.
Elias didn’t look triumphant.
He simply continued working.
As though victory was the default state of his existence.
Tessa exhaled.
“You knew she didn’t have the rights anymore,” she said.
“Yes.”
“But you let her talk anyway.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Elias finally looked up.
“To see who she came here representing.”
Tessa felt a chill.
He hadn’t been defending himself.
He had been hunting.
Slowly, Elias closed the file in front of him.
“Remember this, Miss Hart,” he said. “People never come to you with their first intention. They come with their second.”
Their eyes held.
“And your job,” he continued softly, “is to notice the first.”
Tessa nodded once—because she did understand.
This wasn’t just business.
This was a game of shadows.
And she was now inside it.
Previous Chapter
Latest Chapter
THREADS THAT REFUSE TO DIE
The storm rolled in quickly, clouds muscling across the sky as if the heavens themselves were bracing for what Annabelle was about to uncover. She stood beside the window, watching the first drops of rain distort the glass. Each streak felt like a countdown—slow, deliberate, unavoidable.Ashton and Bernard were at the table behind her, maps and old documents scattered across the surface. The room felt too small for the weight of what they were trying to untangle. Every page they touched carried a ghost. Every name whispered a threat.Annabelle finally turned.“Start from the beginning,” she said. “From the moment my mother first realized something was wrong. Don’t leave anything out this time.”Bernard exhaled, rubbing the bridge of his nose, the exhaustion in his posture revealing just how long he had been carrying this secret.“She was working late one night,” he began. “Cross-checking accounts for the charity foundation she managed. She noticed a transfer that didn’t make sense… th
THE MASK OF THE TRUSTED
Annabelle didn’t realize she was shaking until Ashton stepped in front of her again, placing both hands on her shoulders as if anchoring her back to the floor. Her breath came out in broken bursts, like the air itself had turned too sharp to swallow.Mr. Harrow.The man who had been in her living room after her mother’s funeral.The man who had spoken gently, offering to “help with the paperwork.”The man who checked on her every few months, just enough to seem caring, never enough to seem suspicious.Her knees weakened under the weight of the realization.“Mr. Harrow can’t be involved in this,” Annabelle whispered, though her voice already carried the hollow tremble of disbelief crumbling into truth. “He… he helped me. He guided me through everything. He was the one who said my mother’s case was closed. He said the evidence was lost in the fire—”Bernard’s expression told her everything.The evidence wasn’t lost.It was buried.“Annabelle,” Bernard said softly, “that’s exactly the ro
SHADOWS THAT NEVER LEFT
Silence swallowed the room so completely that Annabelle could hear her own heartbeat stumbling inside her chest. The words Bernard had just spoken clung to the air like heavy smoke.Connected to her mother’s death.Annabelle’s knees weakened again, and Ashton’s arm tightened instinctively around her waist, steadying her even before she realized she was falling. She leaned slightly against him, the weight of Bernard’s revelation pressing through her bones like a slow, crushing tide.Her voice was barely a whisper—thin, trembling.“Bernard… what do you mean connected? Connected how?”Bernard turned away for a moment, raking a shaking hand through his hair. It was the kind of movement a man made when he had reached the end of his strength, when the truth had been sitting on his tongue for too long.“It didn’t start with us,” Bernard murmured. “It didn’t start with anything you said or did. Annabelle… someone has been circling your family long before you even knew how deep your mother was
THE WEIGHT OF PROMISES
The morning crawled in slowly, dragging pale light across the windows like someone gently lifting a veil after a long night of tears. Annabelle stood at the balcony rail, fingers curled around the cold metal, staring at the horizon as if the sun owed her an explanation for rising again. Behind her, the room felt too silent, too heavy, as though every breath inside the walls had grown cautious.She heard Ashton moving before she saw him. His footsteps were slow, not from sleepiness but from the quiet uncertainty that had been lingering between them since last night. He paused at the doorway, watching her slender back, the way her shoulders lifted and dropped with a deep breath she didn’t release fully.“Annabelle,” his voice finally reached her, low and careful, like he was approaching a wounded animal. “You’ve been out here for almost an hour.”She didn’t turn. “I needed the air,” she murmured, her tone soft but edged with exhaustion. “I didn’t sleep much.”“I noticed,” he said, walki
Embers of Dominion
Dawn broke unevenly over the city, casting fractured beams of light through the smoke and debris that still clung to the alleys. Luca walked with deliberate steps through the streets, muscles taut, senses sharp, every shadow a potential threat, every whisper a piece of information. The Warden’s trial had left him changed—not merely stronger, but clearer, more focused. The silver memory now burned like a lodestar in his mind, illuminating the paths others couldn’t see, revealing threats before they could strike, and exposing weaknesses others assumed hidden.The factions were restless. His first strike, the chaos of the previous nights, and now the reverberations of the trial had sent tremors through their ranks. Rumors of a returning predator spread quickly, carried by whispers, graffiti, and subtle signals that Luca alone could read with precision. The city itself seemed to pulse in anticipation, as if aware that its rhythm was about to be rewritten.He moved toward the industrial se
The Warden’s Trial
The night hung heavy over the city, cloaking it in shadows that stretched and writhed like living things. Luca moved through the streets with lethal precision, senses stretched to their limits, every nerve attuned to even the faintest tremor of danger. He could feel the pulse of the city beneath his feet—the steady rhythm of life, crime, and chaos—and it guided him like a compass, warning him of traps, ambushes, and unseen threats. Every building, alley, and rooftop was a potential battlefield, and every shadow might conceal a predator or a pawn.Tonight, the air carried more than the usual scent of asphalt, smoke, and decay. There was something else—an undercurrent of power, subtle yet unmistakable. It emanated from the old quarter, where the Warden had first trained him, where the silver memory had been forged and hidden away. Luca knew instinctively that the trial he had sensed in fragments of his memories was now manifesting. This was not merely a confrontation with enemies; it wa
You may also like
Son-In-Law: Love and Revenge
Mas Xeno86.1K viewsThe rejected Son-in-law
Hunni96.0K viewsThe Billionaire Husband in Disguise
Banin SN188.2K viewsI Made $900 Trillion In 24 Hours
Jericho Chase113.6K viewsThe City Is Mine
Daniel Solomon 330 viewsThe Healer of Hollow Street
Ibechi164 viewsTHE BILLIONAIRE EMPIRE
Emmie 422 viewsTHE RETURN OF THE FORGOTTEN SON
JAXON STEELE643 views