While chaos reigned on the 99th floor of Blackwood Tower, the atmosphere in the Blackwood Family Manor was serene.
Too serene.
Lady Catherine Blackwood, Julian's stepmother and the matriarch of the family, stood in her private conservatory. The air was thick with the scent of humidity and rare orchids. She was fifty, but looked thirty-five, thanks to a team of Swiss dermatologists and a soul that had never known guilt.
Snip.
Her silver pruning shears cut the head off a perfectly blooming white rose.
"He fired Frank?" Catherine asked, her voice soft and melodious.
Behind her, a nervous assistant bowed his head. "Yes, My Lady. It happened in five minutes. The new CSO... the woman named Elena Vance... she had his bank records. She knew about the yacht. Frank was dragged out by security."
Catherine placed the severed rose head on a silver tray.
"Frank was a useful idiot," she mused. "But he funneled three million dollars a quarter into my private accounts. Losing him is... inconvenient."
She wiped the shears with a silk cloth.
"Who is this Elena Vance? A corporate spy? A government auditor?"
"We... we don't know," the assistant stammered. "She used to be an HR manager at a small startup. She was fired yesterday. Julian picked her up from the street."
Catherine's eyes narrowed. "A stray dog? Julian brought a stray dog into the boardroom to bite my hand?"
She laughed. It was a cold, dry sound.
"Julian has always been impulsive. He thinks he can clean house. He forgets that I built this house."
She walked over to a small tea table where her phone was resting. She dialed a number.
"Connect me to the Belmont Estate," she ordered. "I believe young Victoria is having a bit of a crisis with her fiancé. It's time for a girls' talk."
Back at Blackwood Tower.
Elena sat in her new office. It was larger than her old apartment. The walls were glass, the furniture was Italian leather, and the computer was a beast of a machine.
But she wasn't looking at the view. She was looking at the Company Directory.
Her Data Eye was throbbing.
Every name on the screen was glowing with different colors.
Green: Safe. (Junior staff, interns).
Yellow: Questionable. (Middle management, lazy but harmless).
Red: Corrupt. (Senior Executives).
Black: [DATA REDACTED]
Elena frowned. She tapped on a name: Marcus Thorne, CFO.
His file was blocked. A black box covered his data, with a small lock icon floating next to it.
[SYSTEM WARNING] [ACCESS DENIED: LEVEL 2 CLEARANCE REQUIRED] [TARGET SHIELDED BY: "THE GARDENER"]
"The Gardener?" Elena whispered.
Beep.
Her intercom buzzed. It was Julian.
"Elena. Come to my office. We have a problem."
Elena grabbed her tablet and walked through the connecting door.
Julian was standing by the window, looking out at the city. He wasn't eating an apple this time. He was holding a heavy, cream-colored envelope with a wax seal.
"My stepmother sends her regards," Julian said, tossing the envelope onto his desk. "She heard about Frank."
Elena picked it up. Inside was a single card, embossed with gold leaf.
Dearest Julian,
I hear you have a new... plaything. Bring her to the Annual Blackwood Garden Party this Sunday. I would love to meet the woman who is "reorganizing" our family legacy.
Love, Catherine.
"It's a trap," Elena said instantly.
" obviously," Julian turned to face her. "The Garden Party is where the sharks swim. The Board, the investors, the politicians... and my stepmother, who controls half of them."
He walked closer to Elena, his dark eyes intense.
"Frank Miller was just an appetizer, Elena. Catherine is the main course. She has been siphoning money from this company for twenty years. If we go to this party, she will try to humiliate you. She will try to break you in front of everyone."
He paused.
"Are you scared?"
Elena looked at the invitation. She saw the name Catherine Blackwood. Above the name, her Data Eye flickered, trying to generate a number, but failing.
[TARGET: THE MATRIARCH] [DIFFICULTY: NIGHTMARE]
Elena smiled. She placed the card back on the desk.
"Mr. Blackwood," she said, smoothing her skirt. "I don't get scared of old ladies who prune flowers. I'm an HR Director."
She looked up at him, her eyes burning with ambition.
"I deal with toxic work environments for a living. Tell your stepmother we accept. And tell her to hide her checkbook."
Julian stared at her for a moment, stunned by her audacity. Then, a slow, predatory grin spread across his face.
"Good," he said. "Then we need to go shopping again. Because for this party... you'll need armor made of diamonds."