Chapter 2 The Man Himself

Elena stood outside the penthouse door, gripping the cleaning supplies with one hand and her nerves with the other. She had prepared for this moment. Planned for it. But now, standing on the threshold of Damien Sinclair's personal domain, she felt the weight of her mission settle onto her shoulders.

The man inside had destroyed her family. And he didn't even remember.

With a steadying breath, she pushed open the heavy door.

The penthouse was just as she imagined-cold, sterile, and breathtakingly expensive. Floor-to-ceiling windows stretched across the room, showcasing the city skyline. Black leather furniture, polished marble, and a hint of whiskey and power lingered in the air.

She was halfway across the living room when a deep, commanding voice cut through the silence.

"You're late."

Her heart jolted.

Damien Sinclair stood near the bar, casually fixing his cufflinks. Even in a simple white dress shirt, he exuded authority-tall, broad-shouldered, every movement effortless yet calculated. His jet-black hair was slightly tousled, as if he'd just woken up, but his eyes-those piercing gray eyes-were razor-sharp.

Elena clenched her fists.

"I was told to start at five," she said coolly.

"It's five-oh-three." He turned fully to face her, lips curling in disapproval. "I don't tolerate lateness."

Arrogant bastard.

"My apologies, Mr. Sinclair." She forced her voice to remain even. "It won't happen again."

He studied her, head tilting slightly.

"New?"

"Yes, sir."

"Hm." His gaze flicked down to her uniform, then back to her face. "What's your name?"

Elena hesitated for only a second before answering, "Elena Carter."

If the name meant anything to him, he didn't show it.

"Fine," he said indifferently, turning back to his cufflinks. "Don't get in my way."

With that, he strode past her, his presence leaving behind a mix of intimidation and barely contained rage within her.

He didn't remember her. Didn't recognize the last name Carter.

The man who had destroyed her family had already forgotten them.

Elena's grip on the duster tightened.

Good. That would make his downfall all the more satisfying.