Chapter 4 The Mask begins to crack

Camille didn't sleep.

She lay in bed staring at the ceiling, still in her gown from the gala, hair tangled, heart bruised from Vivian's words and Christian's whisper.

"You won't like who I am when the mask comes off."

What did that mean?

What mask? And how deep did his secrets run?

She had only been at Ford International for a week, and already she was tangled in a web of whispers, stares, and things no assistant should ever hear. Her instincts screamed at her to walk away. But something else-stronger-kept her rooted.

This wasn't just a job anymore.

This was about knowing. About unmasking the man who had once touched her like she was unforgettable, and then looked at her like she was invisible.

She needed to know why.

Monday Morning – Ford International

Camille entered the 45th floor with practiced calm, dressed in a navy suit that gave her an edge of sharpness. If she was going to survive here, she couldn't afford to be timid.

The moment she sat at her desk, a message pinged from Christian's office.

Meeting in Boardroom 3. Bring the audit files. Now.

No greeting. No explanation. Just commands.

She sighed and gathered the folders she'd stayed up till 2 a.m. organizing.

When she entered the boardroom, she paused.

Christian wasn't alone.

Nathan Ross was seated to his left, flanked by two men Camille didn't recognize-both of them executives by the looks of their tailored suits and icy stares.

"Miss Hart," Christian said smoothly. "Sit."

She obeyed, but her pulse spiked. Something was off.

"This," he said, gesturing to the folder she placed on the table, "is Miss Hart's independent audit of our Singapore campaign. What she found... is not only accurate-it's damning."

One of the suits narrowed his eyes. "You're saying a junior assistant uncovered multi-million-dollar discrepancies your own finance team missed?"

"Missed," Christian said calmly, "or concealed."

The room went cold.

Camille remained silent, barely breathing.

"This company doesn't tolerate fraud," he continued. "Effective immediately, an internal investigation begins. Heads will roll."

His eyes flicked to her. For a split second, something passed between them.

Not gratitude. Not respect.

Something darker. Calculating.

She'd handed him a weapon. And Christian Ford wasn't the type to let a good blade go unused.

Later That Day – Camille's Desk

Melanie approached her with a look of both caution and curiosity.

"You just put a target on your back," she said softly.

Camille blinked. "Excuse me?"

"The audit." Melanie glanced around. "People talk, Hart. They think you're Ford's pet. Or his spy."

"I'm not either."

"That's not the point. The point is... people in this building protect their secrets with knives. And now you're on everyone's radar."

She handed Camille a USB. "Ford asked for the Southeast Asia deck. His handwriting's on one of the originals-make sure that gets digitized exactly. No errors."

Then she leaned in. "And Camille... don't trust anyone."

6:17 PM – Christian's Office

Camille knocked once before stepping inside.

Christian was standing near the window again, city lights pouring over his features like silver paint. She wondered if he practiced that pose in mirrors-commanding, cold, cinematic.

"You're here late," he said without turning.

"So are you."

He turned then, and for a heartbeat, she forgot how to breathe.

He didn't speak.

Just looked at her.

Hard.

Searching.

"Why did you do it?" he asked finally.

Camille frowned. "Do what?"

"The audit. You could've stayed silent. Avoided attention. But you chose to dig. Why?"

She didn't answer immediately.

"I don't like lies," she said at last. "Especially the kind wrapped in spreadsheets."

Christian stepped closer.

Too close.

She could smell his cologne-rich, clean, expensive.

"You don't strike me as naive, Miss Hart. So tell me..."

He leaned in, eyes locked on hers.

"Are you just this moral? Or do you want something from me?"

She didn't flinch. "Maybe I want both."

A pause. Then-

"Be careful with that," he murmured.

"With what?"

"With wanting something from me."

8:03 PM – Camille's Apartment

Camille was halfway through a glass of wine when her phone buzzed.

UNKNOWN NUMBER:

You think you're smart. You think you can expose people and walk away clean?

Watch your back, little rabbit.

Her blood turned to ice.

Another message came in seconds later.

This isn't just corporate games. People vanish for less.

She stared at the screen, fingers trembling.

And then a knock.

A single, loud knock at her front door.

Her heart jumped to her throat.

Another knock. Harder this time.

Slowly, Camille walked to the door. She checked the peephole.

No one.

Nothing.

Just an empty hallway.

She backed away, heart hammering.

You're not paranoid if they're really watching you.

Meanwhile - Somewhere in the City

Nathan Ross tossed a burner phone into a dumpster and lit a cigarette.

"She's starting to ask too many questions," he said into his earpiece.

A distorted voice replied, "Then either silence her... or control her."

Nathan exhaled smoke. "And Ford?"

"Let him play his game. He'll lose control soon enough."