The ride back to the Blackwood Tower was a study in silence, the quiet hum of the Rolls-Royce engine a stark contrast to the storm of calculations in Evelyn's mind. When the elevator doors opened directly into the penthouse's main foyer, she expected Damien to retreat to his wing of the residence without a word, as was his custom.
Instead, he stopped her.
"A word of advice, Evelyn," he said, his voice a low timbre in the cavernous room. She turned to face him, her expression carefully neutral. "Don't mistake a single victory for winning the war. People like Morgan Sinclair have long memories and short tempers. You made an enemy tonight."
Evelyn held his gaze. He wasn't mocking her. He was cautioning her, speaking to her as a strategist would to another. It was a subtle but seismic shift in their dynamic. He was finally seeing her as a player on the board.
"Thank you for the advice," she said, her tone even. "I've found that it's better to be a memorable enemy than a forgettable friend."
Without waiting for his response, she turned and walked toward her suite, the soft rustle of her sapphire gown the only sound following her.
Once behind the heavy oak door, Evelyn didn't bother with the dress. She kicked off her heels, pulled the diamond necklace from her throat, and left it carelessly on the dresser. She went straight to her desk, the cool glow of her laptop screen illuminating her face. The gala had been a performance, an obligation. This—this was real. This was power.
Her fingers flew across the keyboard, pulling up every available piece of public data on RidgeLine Logistics. Financials, SEC filings, press releases, shareholder reports. She devoured the numbers, her legal mind dissecting debt covenants and partnership agreements with a familiar, exhilarating focus. For the first time since waking up in this strange new life, she felt the ghost of her old self—the sharp, relentless lawyer who lived for the thrill of the hunt.
RidgeLine was a mess, but a beautiful one. Their technology was sound, even revolutionary, but their balance sheet was bleeding red ink from a thousand self-inflicted cuts. And there it was, buried in the footnotes of their latest 10-K report: a massive, high-interest loan from a venture capital firm, with a balloon payment due in less than sixty days. It was a ticking time bomb, and Evelyn had just found the detonator.
A sharp, polite knock echoed from her door, jarring her from her concentration.
"Come in," she called out, quickly minimizing her research and schooling her features into a pleasant mask.
Ms. Jennings entered, holding a tablet. Her expression was, as always, one of serene efficiency.
"My apologies for the late hour, Ms. Reed," she began. "Mr. Blackwood will be hosting a dinner for some members of the board next week. He asked that I consult with you on the menu selections."
Evelyn stared at the screen Ms. Jennings presented, which displayed an array of gourmet options, from pan-seared scallops to Wagyu beef. The sheer triviality of the request, the whiplash from navigating billion-dollar debt structures to choosing canapés, was staggering. It was a stark, infuriating reminder of her current role. She was a strategist planning a corporate takeover, being asked to opine on dessert.
With a placid smile, she made her selections, discussing wine pairings with a knowledgeability that satisfied Ms. Jennings. "An excellent choice, Ms. Reed. I will inform the chef."
As soon as the door clicked shut, Evelyn's smile vanished. The interruption had been more than an annoyance; it was a catalyst. It solidified her resolve. She couldn't operate in the shadows forever, stealing moments between her "fiancée duties." To win, she needed resources. She needed power. And it was time to claim it.
She sat back down at her desk, opened a new email, and typed in the address for Damien's Chief Financial Officer, a man she knew by reputation only. The subject line was simple, direct, and undeniable.
Subject: Formal Request for Capital Loan as per Agreement
The body of the email was just as concise.
Pursuant to the terms outlined in the amended engagement agreement executed on August 4, 2025, I am hereby formally requesting the disbursement of the five-million-dollar ($5,000,000) capital loan to the account details on file.
Thank you.
Evelyn Reed
Her finger hovered over the mouse for a single, breath-held moment. This was the final step of her survival. This was her loading the weapon.
She clicked send.