Chapter 4

Clara stared at Conrad's massive hand blocking the door. Her scalp went numb. She had no way to retreat. She forced her stiff legs to step into the cabin.

She immediately pressed herself into the furthest corner away from him. "Good morning, Uncle Conrad," she whispered. Her voice trembled slightly.

Conrad pulled his hand back. He gave a low "Hmm" and didn't look at her again. He turned his head toward his executive assistant, Marcus, standing beside him.

The doors shut. The elevator shot upward. The sudden gravity pull stretched Clara's already fragile nerves to the breaking point.

In the confined space, the freezing scent of cedarwood radiating from Conrad invaded her lungs. It perfectly overlapped with the terrifying memory of the dark room.

Clara's stomach cramped violently. A layer of cold sweat broke out on her back. Her hand instinctively flew up to cover the high collar of her shirt, hiding the concealer.

Marcus looked at his tablet and reported, "Boss, the board members who drugged your drink at The Plaza Hotel last night have been dealt with."

The words "Plaza Hotel" and "drugged" hit Clara like a freight train. Her heart leaped into her throat. Her legs gave out. Her stiletto twisted, and her back slammed hard against the elevator wall.

The loud thud drew Conrad's attention. He frowned slightly. His deep, piercing gaze finally landed fully on Clara.

"Are you sick?" Conrad's voice was low, carrying the heavy pressure of an apex predator.

Clara forced herself to stand straight. She squeezed out a smile. "I'm fine. I didn't sleep well last night. Low blood sugar."

Conrad's eyes lingered on her high collar and her pale face for two seconds. His gaze darkened.

Suddenly, a loud screech of grinding metal echoed above them. The elevator jerked violently. The lights instantly died.

Another blackout. Clara's PTSD from last night triggered immediately. She let out a short, terrified scream. Her body slid down the wall uncontrollably.

In the pitch black, a strong, muscular arm shot out and hooked around her waist. She was yanked hard against a broad, rock-solid chest.

Clara crashed into Conrad. The cedarwood scent hit her full force. The sheer terror of being torn apart in the dark swallowed her whole.

She fought like a wild animal. She shoved her hands against his chest, her nails digging into his suit jacket. "Don't touch me! Let me go!"

Conrad froze at her extreme reaction. His frown deepened. Instead of letting go, his arm tightened around her waist, locking her in place.

"Clara, calm down. It's just a power failure," Conrad barked out. His voice was right next to her ear. His hot breath brushed against her neck.

Hearing her name and feeling the heat on her skin shocked Clara back to reality. She stopped thrashing, realizing what she was doing.

In those few agonizing seconds of silence, the backup generator kicked in. The lights flickered back on.

The moment the cabin illuminated, Conrad's eyes narrowed. Clara's collar had been pulled slightly open during her struggle. During her frantic thrashing against his solid chest, the heavy layers of concealer she had meticulously applied that morning had completely rubbed off against the rough fabric of his suit. A dark, violent red hickey was glaringly visible on her collarbone.

Conrad's eyes turned extremely dangerous. He stared at the mark. A fragmented memory of a woman crying beneath him in the dark flashed through his mind.

Clara noticed his stare. She gasped, clamped her hand over her collar, and shoved him away with all her strength. She backed into the corner, panting heavily.

Ding. The elevator stopped at the 15th floor-the Sales Department. The doors slid open.

Clara didn't even say goodbye. She bolted out of the elevator like she was running for her life.

Conrad stood in the cabin, watching her terrified back disappear. He slowly raised his right hand and stared at the three deep scratches on his skin. His eyes turned pitch black.

"Boss, should I have someone look into Julian's recent activities?" Marcus asked quietly, noticing the tension.

Conrad dropped his hand. "Pull the security footage from the 15th floor of The Plaza Hotel last night. I want to know exactly who the woman in that room was."

Clara sprinted into the women's restroom. She splashed freezing water onto her face. She stared at her pathetic reflection. The real war had just begun.