Maya's POV
I broke into my father's penthouse at midnight with Reyna as my lookout and Damien Cross's face haunting my thoughts.
Stop thinking about him. He could be the killer.
But I couldn't stop remembering the way he'd looked at me in that bathroom. The way his touch had made my skin burn.
Find anything? Reyna whispered, searching the filing cabinets.
Not yet. I tore through Dad's desk drawers. But if he kept evidence about his murder, it's here.
An hour passed. Then two. Nothing.
I slumped into Dad's desk chair, defeated.
That's when I saw the photo—my parents' wedding picture. I'd looked at it a thousand times.
Tonight, something felt different.
I turned the frame over.
A small key, taped to the back.
Reyna.
She came running.
The key fit my mother's jewelry box. Hidden compartment in the bottom.
Inside: a USB drive and a letter in Dad's handwriting.
Maya, if you're reading this, I'm gone. Someone in my inner circle is dangerous. The evidence is encrypted on this drive. All six of them had reasons to want me dead. I don't know which one acted on it. Be smarter than I was. Don't trust anyone.
My hands shook as I decrypted the files.
Six folders appeared:
VICTORIA CHEN - Patent theft plans, emails to competitors
MARCUS WEBB - Offshore accounts, embezzlement evidence
SOPHIA LAURENT - Fake identity, no background before 3 years ago
JAMES PARK - Heated arguments about company ethics
NATASHA VOLKOV - Family secrets, corporate murder cover-up
DAMIEN CROSS - Security logs from Dad's last day
I opened Damien's folder with my heart in my throat.
Damien was supposed to be in the car with me. He's ALWAYS in the car. The emergency that called him away was fake. Someone deliberately removed him. Either he's the killer, or someone wanted him to survive. Don't know which is worse.
Pain lanced through my chest.
Maya? Reyna touched my shoulder. You okay?
He could be the killer, I whispered. Damien. He could have
The lights went out.
All of them. At once.
Maya, Reyna breathed. Someone's here.
Footsteps in the hallway. Fast. Coming toward the study.
I grabbed the USB drive and ran for the window—
The study door slammed open.
A figure silhouetted in the doorway. Tall. Male.
Don't move. A familiar deep voice.
The emergency lights kicked on, bathing everything in red.
Damien Cross stood in the doorway, and he was furious.
What the hell are you doing here? he demanded.
I could ask you the same thing! My back hit the window.
I'm head of security. This building is monitored. When someone breaks into the owner's penthouse at midnight, I get an alert. He stalked toward me. Did you think I wouldn't notice?
Reyna had disappeared—probably hiding. Smart.
I was alone with him.
With a possible killer.
Who was looking at me like he couldn't decide whether to shake me or kiss me.
You're investigating, he said, voice dangerously soft. Investigating your father's death. Investigating us.
What if I am?
He moved fast—too fast—closing the distance between us until I was trapped between him and the window. His hands landed on either side of my head, caging me in.
Not touching. But close enough that I could feel the heat radiating off his body.
Do you have any idea how dangerous that is? His voice was rough, angry. Do you know what you're risking?
My father was murdered. I lifted my chin. I'm risking everything to prove it.
And if the killer finds out what you're doing? His eyes burned into mine. If they decide you're too close to the truth?
Then I guess you'll have another death to feel guilty about.
The words were cruel. I watched them hit him like bullets.
His jaw clenched. I won't let that happen.
Why do you care? I demanded. If you're innocent, you should want me to investigate. And if you're guilty—
I'm not. He leaned closer, his face inches from mine. I didn't kill your father, Maya. But I know someone did. And I've been investigating too. For eight months. Every day since I failed to save him.
My breath caught. You've been—
Tracking financial records. Reviewing security footage. Interrogating employees. Yes. His voice dropped to almost a whisper. I can't bring him back. But I can find who took him from us. From you.
Us. You.
How do I know you're not lying? But my voice shook.
You don't. His eyes dropped to my mouth. You don't know if I'm the monster or the man trying to stop the monsters. And that's what's killing you, isn't it? That you want to trust me, but you can't afford to.
He was right. God help me, he was right.
What's on the drive? he asked quietly.
Evidence. Files my father kept on all six heirs.
Including me?
Yes.
And what does it say about me?
I swallowed hard. That you were conveniently absent when he died.
Pain flashed across his face. I know. I've asked myself a thousand times if someone used me. If I was a pawn in someone else's game.
Or if you're the one playing games.
Maya. The way he said my name made me shiver. If I wanted you dead, you'd already be dead. I've had a dozen chances. In the bathroom. In the parking garage. Right now. His hand lifted, hovering near my face but not touching. But all I want to do is keep you breathing. Even when you look at me like I'm a killer.
Then help me. The words came out before I could stop them. If you're really investigating too, help me find out which one of them did it.
No.
Why not?
Because working together means getting close to you. And getting close to you is dangerous.
For who?
His eyes met mine, dark and intense. Both of us.
The air between us crackled with electricity. His hand was still hovering near my face. My heart hammered so hard I thought it might break through my ribs.
I should go, he said roughly. But he didn't move.
Then go.
I can't. His thumb brushed my cheekbone—barely a touch, but it sent fire through my veins. God help me, Maya, I can't stay away from you. Even knowing I should.
My phone buzzed in my pocket, shattering the moment.
Damien stepped back like he'd been burned.
I pulled out my phone with shaking hands.
Unknown number: Sweet scene. Very touching. But he's lying to you, Maya. The question is: does HE know he's lying? Or is he the killer who's so good at his role he's convinced himself he's innocent?
Another message:
Check the security footage from eight months ago. The REAL footage, not the edited version. Then ask your knight in shining armor why he deleted fifteen minutes of video from the day your father died.
I looked up at Damien, the text burning in my mind.
What? he asked, seeing my expression change.
Did you delete security footage? From the day my father died?
His face went carefully blank. Who told you that?
Answer the question.
Yes. The admission was quiet. Damning. I deleted fifteen minutes.
My heart shattered. Why?
Because— He stopped. Started again. Because what was on that footage would have destroyed everything. And I made a choice to protect—
Protect who? Yourself?
You! The word exploded from him. I was protecting you, Maya!
That makes no sense—
Your father's last words were on that footage. His voice cracked. His last fifteen minutes alive. And he was talking about you. About keeping you safe from someone. He knew he was going to die, and he spent his last moments making me promise to protect his daughter from whatever was coming.
Tears burned my eyes. You're lying.
I'm not. And I can prove it. I didn't delete the footage. I moved it. Encrypted it. Hid it where only I could access it, because if the killer saw what was on it, they'd know Richard warned you. They'd know you're a threat. And they'd kill you too.
Show me, I demanded. Show me the footage right now.
He stared at me for a long moment. Then pulled out his phone, fingers flying over the screen.
He turned it toward me.
Security footage. My father in his office. Alone. Talking to the camera like he knew someone would watch this later.
And his words made my blood run cold:
Damien, if you're watching this, I'm gone. And Maya's in danger. One of the six knows about her mother's real research—the evidence Elena hid. They'll come for Maya to get it. Keep her safe. Keep her close. And for God's sake, don't let her trust—
The footage cut off.
That's it, Damien said quietly. That's all there was. He died before he could finish the sentence. Before he could tell me who not to trust.
I stared at the screen, my father's face frozen in time.
Who was he warning me about? I whispered.
I don't know. But someone does. And they've been watching you ever since.
My phone buzzed again.
Very dramatic. Very convincing. But ask yourself: why would your father trust Damien with his last words? Unless Damien was the only one he DIDN'T suspect. Or unless Damien forced him to make that recording at gunpoint. So many possibilities.
By the way, you should check your apartment. Someone's there right now. Waiting.
My apartment.
I have to go. I moved past Damien.
His hand caught my wrist—gentle, but firm. Not alone. If someone's after you—
Let go
Maya
Let. Go.
He released me, but his expression said this wasn't over.
I ran.
But I could feel his eyes on me all the way to the elevator.
And I hated that part of me wanted him to follow.