Chapter 2 The Game Begins

Eva – First Person

Lila calls the second I step out of the building.

"So?" she demands before I even say hello. "Did he breathe fire? Throw you out? Bite your neck and mark you as his property?"

"Worse," I mutter, weaving through the crowd outside Wolfe Enterprises. "He asked me to call him Damien."

A pause. Then a squeal so loud I have to pull the phone away from my ear.

"Eva! Are you hearing yourself?! You haven't even been there 48 hours, and the CEO-your secret father-slash-enemy-slash-hot older man-is already handing you his first name like a freaking wedding ring."

"It's not funny."

"It's terrifyingly funny. Like an erotic Greek tragedy." She drops her voice. "Do you feel anything? Like... genetically wrong vibes?"

I don't answer right away.

Because that's the problem.

What I feel isn't wrong.

It's electric.

I should be repulsed. Appalled. I should remember my mother's hollowed-out eyes when she told me who he was. I should see the past, the betrayal, the heartbreak.

But all I saw this morning was a man. And all I felt... was heat.

"I'm not sleeping with him," I whisper.

"Oh, girl." Lila sighs. "That means you're thinking about it."

I hang up before she says more truth than I can handle and slide the phone back into my bag. Across the street, the glass tower of Wolfe Enterprises reflects the skyline like a blade.

This is a dangerous game I'm playing.

And I'm already losing focus.

Later that Day – Wolfe Enterprises, Office Archives

The basement of Wolfe Enterprises is cold, quiet, and dimly lit-filled with decades of contracts, files, and secrets. It's also the one place I can think without catching Damien Wolfe's gaze from across the hallway.

I volunteered to sort archived acquisitions contracts-low-glamour work that keeps me out of sight. But I'm not just here to avoid him.

I'm digging.

Somewhere in these files are records from twenty-three years ago. The year he met my mother. The year he destroyed her.

I flip through boxes labeled 1999, 2000, 2001. My fingers shake as I reach 2002. My birth year.

I almost stop. Almost walk away.

But I open the box.

Inside are neatly labeled folders-Wolfe Enterprises' legal dealings, employee terminations, acquisition notes. My pulse quickens as I spot a name: Claire Sinclair.

My mother.

I pull the folder free. My breath hitches as I scan the contents.

A non-disclosure agreement. A bank transaction. A signed contract. I blink hard. The sum is six figures. The condition?

"Full severance and non-contact following romantic engagement with Damien Wolfe. In exchange for discretion and withdrawal from professional affiliation."

I grip the folder tighter.

She didn't leave him.

She was paid to disappear.

No-forced to.

There's a handwritten note clipped to the back.

"Paid. Confirmed. Sinclair no longer a liability."

Initials: K.W.

Who the hell is K.W.?

A sudden noise behind me makes me freeze.

I turn-and nearly slam into him.

Damien stands in the doorway, arms folded, expression unreadable.

"What exactly are you looking for, Eva?"

My mouth goes dry.

Think. Lie. Fast.

"I-I was told to organize this section by year. I didn't mean to go through anything confidential-"

He steps forward, eyes narrowing. "That's a sealed personnel file."

I place the folder down, careful not to reveal my shaking hands. "It was mixed in. I didn't read it."

He doesn't move.

Neither do I.

The silence stretches, heavy and sharp.

Then something flickers in his expression. Not suspicion. Not anger.

Pain?

"She worked here, didn't she?" I ask softly, gesturing at the folder. "Claire Sinclair."

His eyes darken. "For a brief time."

I press forward, careful. Curious. A daughter pretending to be a stranger.

"What happened to her?"

He hesitates. Just for a second. Then the billionaire mask drops back into place.

"She left," he says flatly. "She wanted money. I gave her what she wanted."

I want to scream.

But I nod. "Sounds cold."

He looks me dead in the eye. "That's business."

I swallow the lump rising in my throat. "Is that all it was to you? Business?"

There's a pause. Then-

"I don't make a habit of discussing my past with interns."

I laugh, too bitter, too fast. "Right. Interns are for coffee runs and spreadsheets. Not complicated truths."

He steps closer. I can smell his cologne-wood, smoke, something expensive and male. My heart pounds. His voice drops.

"You're different, Eva. I don't know why, but you are."

My body betrays me. I feel the pull. The heat.

"Maybe I'm just good at pretending," I whisper.

His jaw clenches. "Or maybe you're just too damn tempting for your own good."

And then he turns and walks away-leaving me standing there in a vault of secrets, holding the weight of a buried truth and a heart I never meant to feel.