The morning after her first day at Blackwood Enterprises, Natasha woke earlier than usual. She stood in front of the mirror, holding up two outfits as if the decision were a matter of life and death. Edward's parting words still lingered in her mind—appearances matter.
She finally settled on a fitted charcoal blazer over a silk blouse the color of pale champagne. It wasn't designer, but the tailoring was sharp, and paired with black heels, she looked like someone who could walk into any boardroom and hold her own.
When she arrived at the office, Daniel Hayes was already there, leaning against the reception desk. His eyes flicked to her attire, then away, but she caught the faint lift of one eyebrow. A silent acknowledgment.
The day began with a flurry of meetings. Natasha sat in on two of them, both involving projects that sounded as though they'd been designed specifically to bore outsiders into submission. But Edward didn't just watch the numbers—he watched the people, the little tells in their body language, and Natasha found herself doing the same.
By midday, she was starting to understand how this place worked. It wasn't about who had the best idea—it was about who could push the hardest without breaking, who could mask weakness and sniff out someone else's.
After lunch, Edward called her into his office. He was standing by the window, sleeves rolled up, tie loosened just enough to suggest he'd been working, but not enough to look sloppy.
"We have a situation," he said, without preamble.
Natasha stepped closer. "What kind of situation?"
"One of our subsidiaries—Alden Foods—is being audited. Officially, it's a routine check. Unofficially…" He turned, his gaze pinning her in place. "Someone's trying to stir trouble. I need you to find out who."
Her brow furrowed. "I'm not an investigator."
"No," he agreed. "But you're an outsider. They won't see you coming."
The plan was simple, at least on paper—visit Alden Foods under the guise of "quality evaluation," talk to staff, and listen. Natasha suspected Edward had already sent people before her, but he was testing her now, throwing her into the deep end to see if she'd swim or sink.
The drive to Alden's facility took forty minutes, during which Natasha mentally rehearsed questions that would sound casual but dig for information.
Alden Foods looked nothing like the sleek skyscraper of Blackwood Enterprises. The building was older, functional, with walls that had seen better days. Inside, the air smelled faintly of yeast and spices. Workers in hairnets moved with quiet efficiency.
Natasha introduced herself to the plant manager, a man named Robert Lane, who had the cautious demeanor of someone used to being under scrutiny.
"I'll show you around," he said, forcing a smile.
As they walked, Natasha asked about production rates, suppliers, and recent changes in policy. Robert answered each question politely but vaguely. It was the floor supervisors and staff who offered more—small hints dropped between explanations. A late delivery here, an unexpected order there.
It wasn't until she spoke to an accounts clerk in a cramped office at the back that something clicked. The woman, a thin brunette with tired eyes, mentioned that certain invoices had been altered after submission. "Just minor changes," she said quickly, as if realizing too late she'd said too much.
By the time Natasha returned to the city, her notes were a patchwork of observations, but one thread stood out—someone inside Alden Foods was quietly inflating supplier costs, and the paper trail was messy enough to catch an auditor's attention.
Edward listened in silence as she relayed her findings, his gaze unreadable. When she finished, he nodded once. "You did well."
The praise was brief but genuine. Still, Natasha sensed something else—an unspoken weight in his demeanor.
"What's the real game here, Edward?" she asked.
He moved behind his desk, picking up a pen and setting it down again. "Alden isn't the target. I am."
Her pulse quickened. "And this… audit?"
"A warning." He looked up at her. "In my world, you don't get warnings unless someone wants you to know they're coming."
That night, Natasha stayed late to go through Alden's digital files. The office was quiet, the city lights glittering outside. Around nine, she heard footsteps and turned to see Daniel Hayes standing in the doorway.
"You're making yourself quite comfortable," he said.
"Working," she replied evenly.
He stepped inside, hands in his pockets. "You know, most people don't last long here. Edward burns through talent like kindling. If you're smart, you'll keep one foot out the door."
Natasha studied him. "Is that concern I hear, or just a warning?"
He smirked. "Both."
When he left, she couldn't shake the feeling that Hayes knew more than he let on—and that his loyalties might not be entirely with Edward.
By the time she gathered her things, the office was deserted. She stepped into the elevator, only to find Edward already inside.
"Long day," he remarked.
"You could say that," she replied, leaning against the wall.
He studied her for a moment. "If you're going to stay in this game, you need to understand something—every move has a cost. Sometimes you pay in money. Sometimes in reputation. And sometimes…" His gaze darkened. "…in blood."
The elevator doors opened on the ground floor, but Natasha stayed rooted in place for a heartbeat longer. She wasn't sure if it was his words or the way he'd said them, but a chill ran through her.
Stepping out into the cool night air, she realized something important—Edward Blackwood wasn't just teaching her how to survive his world.
He was preparing her for war.