Eva – First Person
It starts with a text.
Unknown Number:
"You're not who you say you are. Be careful, little liar. People in Wolfe's world vanish all the time."
My hands go cold. I read the message twice. Then a third time.
It's 2:16 a.m. I'm alone in my apartment, the streetlamp outside casting a harsh yellow light across my floor.
I don't sleep for the rest of the night.
Next Morning – Wolfe Enterprises
The morning light feels sterile and fake inside this tower of glass. The coffee in the breakroom tastes burnt. My blouse itches. And my skin feels too tight around every lie I'm wearing.
I stare at Damien's office door as if it might open just from the heat of my gaze.
It doesn't.
"Miss Holden?"
I jump.
It's Malcolm—his assistant. Slick, stiff, always watching me like I'm an unsolved puzzle.
"Mr. Wolfe would like to see you. Now."
I nod. "On my way."
Each step toward that door feels like walking toward a trap I set for myself.
His office is dim when I enter. Curtains half-drawn. The skyline blurring behind tinted glass. And Damien—leaning against the edge of his massive desk, sleeves rolled up, no tie, shirt undone at the throat.
He looks tired.
But no less lethal.
"Close the door," he says without looking up.
I do.
He finally raises his eyes to mine.
"We need to talk."
My stomach twists. "About what?"
"About you."
My pulse thuds painfully in my ears. "What did I do?"
He tilts his head, voice calm. Too calm. "That's what I'm trying to figure out."
He gestures for me to sit. I don't. I stand, stiff and silent, across from him.
"I had someone run a deeper background check."
I flinch. "Isn't that illegal?"
"Everything's illegal until it's necessary."
I cross my arms. "So, what did you find?"
He stands, slowly circling the desk until we're face-to-face. The air between us is thick.
"Nothing," he says. "Too clean. Too perfect. Like you were created to blend in."
I meet his gaze. "Maybe I'm just good at covering my tracks."
His jaw flexes. "That's what I'm afraid of."
There's a beat of silence.
Then, softly, "Someone sent me a message last night. About you."
My spine locks up. "What kind of message?"
"A warning. That you're not who you say you are. That you're dangerous."
My breath hitches. "Do you believe them?"
He steps closer. Close enough that I can smell the tension in him. The suspicion. The heat.
"I don't want to," he says. "But I've built an empire on trusting my instincts. And right now, they're screaming."
I can't stop the words before they come out.
"Maybe your instincts are reacting to something else entirely."
He goes still.
"You think this is just… attraction?" he asks.
I lift my chin. "Isn't it?"
"Don't play with me, Eva."
His voice is rough. Warning. But beneath it, I hear the same thing that's echoing in my own chest.
Want.
We stand in silence, tension pulsing between us like electricity. His eyes drop to my mouth. I know I should walk away.
But I don't.
He takes one slow step forward. Then another.
His hand rises, brushing my arm—barely a whisper of touch.
I inhale sharply.
"You're trouble," he murmurs.
"So are you."
"Difference is," he says, "I know what I'm capable of."
I whisper, "So do I."
And then—
He kisses me.
It's not sweet.
It's not tentative.
It's a claiming. A collision.
His hands in my hair, my fingers clutching his shirt, his mouth hot and demanding against mine. Everything I've been denying erupts all at once, and I lose myself in it—his touch, his scent, the way he groans low in his throat when I press against him like I'll never stop.
I forget who I am. Why I came.
I forget my mother. The lies. The plan.
Until he pulls away, breathing hard, and rests his forehead against mine.
"This is a mistake," he says hoarsely. "But I can't stop."
Neither can I.
I open my mouth to say something—anything—
When the office door slams open.
We both jerk apart.
And there she is.
Katherine Wolfe.
His older sister.
Company Vice President.
And the woman whose initials match the note in my stolen file.
K.W.
"Am I interrupting something?" she says, voice like cut glass.
Damien steps back, straightens his shirt. "Katherine—"
She doesn't look at him.
She's looking at me.
And there's something in her eyes I can't quite read.
"I need a word," she says tightly.
I glance at Damien. He nods once.
Katherine turns on her heel. "My office. Now."
Katherine Wolfe's Office – Ten Minutes Later
She doesn't offer me a seat.
She just stands behind her desk, arms folded, ice in her gaze.
"I'm going to make this simple," she says.
I say nothing.
"You think you're clever. But I've seen your type before. Young. Pretty. Ambitious. Looking to sink your claws into the nearest power source."
I clench my jaw. "With all due respect, I don't think my personal life—"
"This isn't about your personal life," she snaps. "It's about Damien. He's vulnerable. You don't know it, but he is. And I won't let you be another one of his mistakes."
I meet her gaze, defiant. "Maybe Damien can decide that for himself."
She leans forward. "You think you're special? That you're the first girl with a secret and a pretty smile? I've cleaned up messes like you."
My chest tightens.
"I don't know what game you're playing, Miss Holden," she says coldly, "but I suggest you end it before someone gets hurt."
And then—just like that—she dismisses me with a flick of her hand.
Like I'm nothing.
Like I don't matter.
But I do.
And now I know exactly who stood between my mother and the truth.
K.W.
Katherine Wolfe.
She's the one who made sure Damien never found us.
She's the one who forged that severance deal.
She's the one who buried the letter.
And she has no idea I'm her mess.
Not yet.
But she will.