The morning after the gala, I stood in front of a building that looked like it had been carved from a single slab of obsidian. Wolfhart Dynamics headquarters—fifty-five floors of gleaming ambition and dark secrets.
I adjusted my tailored navy blazer, smoothed down the white silk blouse beneath it, and checked my reflection one last time in my compact mirror. Gone was the seductress from last night's gala. Today, Reyna Lancaster was all business—sharp lines, minimal makeup, hair pulled back in a sleek ponytail that spoke of efficiency and determination.
The dossier in my leather portfolio was immaculate—résumé perfect, references impeccable, and credentials that would pass even the most thorough background check. Lance had outdone himself, creating a paper trail so convincing it could fool God himself.
"You've got twenty minutes before your interview," Lance's voice crackled through my earpiece. "Remember, you're not applying to be his assistant. That's too obvious. You're aiming for the Strategic Communications division. It'll give you access without raising suspicions."
I pressed the tiny button on my watch. "I know the plan."
"And Cassian's schedule?"
"Meeting with the board until eleven. He won't see me in the building today."
"Good. Better if you earn this position without his influence. More organic."
I clicked the earpiece off and straightened my spine. The revolving glass doors of Wolfhart Dynamics beckoned, spinning like the chambers of a loaded gun.
Inside, the lobby was a cathedral to modern power—soaring ceilings, sleek marble floors, and a massive digital wall displaying Wolfhart's latest innovations. Security was tight but discreet. Men in dark suits with earpieces stood at strategic points, their eyes constantly scanning.
I approached the reception desk, where a woman with a perfect blonde chignon and calculating blue eyes waited.
"Reyna Lancaster," I said, my voice cool and assured. "I have an interview with HR at nine-thirty."
The receptionist's fingers danced across her keyboard. "Ms. Lancaster. Yes, you're expected on the forty-second floor. Take the executive elevator to your right." She handed me a visitor's badge. "Security will escort you."
A broad-shouldered man materialized beside me. "This way, please."
The elevator was silent and swift, rising through the building like a bullet. I could feel my heart rate climbing with every floor, not from nervousness, but from the adrenaline of being so close to my target.
For Maya, I reminded myself. For all the others who couldn't fight back.
HR was exactly what you'd expect from a company built on pristine appearances—all glass walls and minimalist furniture, with splashes of Wolfhart's signature blue accents. The interview itself was textbook: behavioral questions, scenario responses, discussions about my fabricated experience in crisis communications for tech startups.
I played the part flawlessly, balancing confidence with just enough humility to seem authentic. When they asked why I wanted to work for Wolfhart Dynamics, I leaned forward slightly, my voice dropping to a tone of quiet conviction.
"I've followed Mr. Wolfhart's career for years," I said, the lie sliding past my lips like silk. "What impresses me most isn't just the innovation—it's the values behind it. This company stands for something." I paused, letting the words hang. "I want to be part of that legacy."
The HR director—Vanessa Rhodes, according to my research, one of Cassian's most loyal employees—nodded, satisfied. "Well, Ms. Lancaster, your credentials are impressive. We just have a few more candidates to see, but expect to hear from us by the end of the week."
I thanked her with a practiced smile that never quite reached my eyes. As I gathered my portfolio, the door to the interview room swung open.
And there he was. Cassian Wolfhart.
His eyes widened briefly, a flash of surprise quickly replaced by something darker, more intrigued.
"Ms. Rhodes," he said, his voice smooth as aged whiskey, "I thought I mentioned I wanted to sit in on the final Strategic Communications interviews."
Vanessa flushed. "Mr. Wolfhart, I was told you were in board meetings until eleven."
"The meeting ended early." His gaze never left mine. "Ms. Lancaster, isn't it? From the gala."
I stood slowly, extending my hand. "Mr. Wolfhart. I didn't expect to see you here."
His grip was warm, firm, lingering a second too long. "Funny, I was thinking the same thing. Applied as...?"
"Strategic Communications Manager."
"Interesting choice." His eyes narrowed slightly. "Your background is in...?"
"Crisis management and strategic messaging. Particularly for tech firms with complex public relations challenges."
The corner of his mouth lifted in a half-smile. "I see."
He turned to Vanessa. "I'd like to speak with Ms. Lancaster privately. Would you excuse us?"
Vanessa nodded, slipping out of the room with practiced deference. The door clicked shut behind her.
Cassian didn't sit. Instead, he leaned against the glass table, his posture casual but his eyes sharp. "Of all the positions in my company, you chose the one that deals with secrets and vulnerabilities. I find that... curious."
I kept my expression neutral. "Every company has its challenges. I excel at turning them into opportunities."
"Do you now?" He crossed his arms. "So what's your real story, Reyna? The file says you've worked for three tech startups, but I've never heard your name in those circles."
"I prefer to work behind the scenes," I replied. "The best strategic minds rarely make headlines themselves."
He watched me for a long moment, as if trying to peel back layers with just his gaze. "There's something about you I can't quite place."
I returned his stare without flinching. "Perhaps that's why you should hire me."
To my surprise, he laughed—a genuine sound that transformed his face for a moment. "Bold. I like that." He straightened, buttoning his jacket. "Consider yourself hired."
I blinked, genuinely thrown off balance. "Just like that?"
"Just like that." He moved toward the door. "But not for Strategic Communications."
My stomach tightened. "Then for...?"
"You'll be working directly with me." His hand rested on the doorknob. "I need someone who can think three steps ahead. Someone who isn't afraid to speak truth to power. And someone who clearly has an agenda of her own that I find... fascinating."
The air between us crackled with unspoken challenge.
"Report to my office Monday morning, 8 AM sharp." He opened the door. "Oh, and Reyna? Don't bother with the usual onboarding paperwork. I'll have my team handle it."
Then he was gone, leaving me standing in a room that suddenly felt too small and too warm.
My phone buzzed in my pocket. Lance.
LANCE: What happened? You were supposed to be out ten minutes ago.
I typed back:
ME: Change of plans. I'm in. But not where we expected.
LANCE: Where?
I stared at the door Cassian had just walked through, a chill running down my spine despite the heat in my veins.
ME: His personal team. Direct access.
LANCE: That's... unexpected. Dangerous.
ME: Perfect, you mean.
Because it was. In one swift move, the wolf had invited the fox into his den. He thought he was the one setting a trap, testing me, watching me squirm under his scrutiny.
What he didn't know was that I had been crafting this moment for months. Every detail of my fake identity, every fabricated credential, every practiced smile—all designed to get me exactly where I needed to be: close enough to destroy him.
Back in my apartment that night, I stood at the window overlooking the city, phone pressed to my ear.
"He hired you personally?" Detective Ash Lennox's voice was tight with concern. "That wasn't the plan, Leona."
"Plans change," I said, watching lights flicker across the skyline. "This is better. I'll have access to his private files, his schedule, maybe even evidence about what happened to Maya."
"Or he's keeping you close because he suspects something."
I closed my eyes. "He doesn't."
"You don't know that for sure."
"I saw how he looked at me," I said, my voice hardening. "He's intrigued, not suspicious. Men like Cassian Wolfhart don't see threats in women they're attracted to. That's their weakness."
Ash sighed. "Just be careful. These people—they don't play by regular rules. If they find out who you really are..."
"They won't."
After hanging up, I moved to my bedroom and pulled open the closet door. Inside was a second wardrobe—clothes I'd never worn before, purchased specifically for Reyna Lancaster. Conservative but expensive suits. Silk blouses in cool tones. A few carefully selected cocktail dresses for corporate events.
Beneath a false bottom in my jewelry box lay a small thumb drive—encrypted, virtually untraceable. The real reason I was infiltrating Wolfhart Dynamics.
I touched it gently, then closed the box.
Across town, in her hospital room, Maya lay still, caught in a sleep that medicine couldn't explain. The doctors called it trauma-induced catatonia. I called it the crime Cassian Wolfhart would pay for.
"I'm in, Maya," I whispered to the empty room. "The first lie worked. And I'm just getting started."
Monday morning would bring me face to face with the devil again. Only this time, I'd be working for him.
The game had begun.