📖 Chapter One – The Devil in a Suit
The alarm buzzed at 6:30 a.m., far too cheerful for how tight Aria's stomach felt. She sat up in bed, blinking at the thin curtain that barely shielded her from the morning light. The room was small, almost cramped compared to the palatial bedroom she'd left behind months ago—but it was alive. She could hear the sound of sizzling bacon from the kitchen, Mia's voice humming to some pop song, and Lila's laughter echoing down the hall.
This was freedom.
She stretched her arms, whispered to herself: "Breathe, Aria. Not Arianna. Aria Collins."
A knock rattled the door. It flew open before she could answer.
"Rise and shine, Miss Future Secretary of the Year!" Mia leaned against the doorframe, curly hair in a messy bun, clutching a coffee mug like it was holy scripture. "Don't tell me you're nervous."
"I'm not nervous," Aria lied, throwing off her blanket.
Mia's grin was merciless. "You're chewing your lip. You always do that when you're nervous. Remember last time? Before your fake driver's license test?"
"Don't remind me." Aria groaned and shuffled toward the dresser.
Lila's small head popped in right under Mia's arm, her sixteen-year-old eyes twinkling with mischief. "You're gonna be amazing, Aria. If Mr. Scary Boss doesn't hire you, he's blind."
"Don't call him that," Mia scolded lightly. "His name's Damian Blackwood. CEO of Knight Enterprises. Ruthless. Heartless. Rich. And probably allergic to smiling."
Aria tugged on her blouse, buttoning it neatly. Modest. Safe. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror—chestnut hair framing her face, contacts dulling the unusual gray of her eyes. She looked… ordinary. Finally.
Mrs. Roberts's voice drifted from the kitchen: "Girls, let her eat breakfast in peace before you overwhelm her."
Aria smiled despite her nerves. This was her new life—simple, warm, messy. A family that actually cared, even if it wasn't her own blood.
By the time she stepped into the kitchen, Mrs. Roberts had already packed a lunch into a neat container. "First day," she said gently, pressing the box into Aria's hands. "Don't let anyone walk all over you. Remember—you may be hiding who you are, but your worth isn't gone."
Aria swallowed hard, nodding. No one but Mia and her family knew the truth: that "Aria Collins" was really Arianna Valencia, the missing heiress of the Valencia empire. A girl who'd slipped out of a mansion in the dead of night, leaving behind silk sheets and suffocating expectations.
Arianna Valencia was dead. Aria Collins was reborn.
She hugged them quickly, whispered, "Wish me luck," and stepped into the brisk city morning.
Knight Enterprises towered above the skyline like a steel-and-glass fortress. Its mirrored surface reflected the sun so sharply that she had to shield her eyes. The lobby alone could have swallowed her old bedroom whole. Security guards in suits scanned her ID, their gaze heavy enough to remind her that this wasn't just a company—it was a kingdom.
Her heels clicked against the polished floor as she joined the line of applicants waiting near reception. Anxiety whispered at the back of her mind: What if someone recognizes me? What if Damian Knight knows my family name?
She shoved the thoughts away.
The elevator ride up was suffocating. Assistants murmured around her:
"I heard Mr. Knight fired a manager before breakfast."
"He doesn't tolerate mistakes."
"They call him the Devil in a Suit for a reason."
The words made her palms sweat, but she stood taller. If she couldn't survive a man's temper, how could she survive the world she'd chosen?
The doors slid open onto the executive floor.
Her instructions said to wait for HR, but nerves pushed her down the wrong corridor. A heavy glass door loomed ahead. Voices filtered through—the unmistakable timbre of authority dominating the room.
She pushed the door open.
Every head turned.
The boardroom was sleek, intimidating, filled with men in tailored suits. At the head of the table stood a man she instantly recognized from headlines. Damian Blackwood.
He was taller than she imagined, broad-shouldered in a charcoal suit that looked like it had been cut with a blade. His expression was unreadable, but his presence consumed the air. Even the board members seemed to shrink under his gaze.
Aria froze. Her folder slipped from her fingers. Papers scattered across the glossy floor like falling snow.
Silence.
Then his voice. Low. Cold. Merciless.
"Pathetic."
The word stung like a slap.
Her cheeks burned as whispers rippled through the room. She crouched to gather her papers, hands shaking—then stopped. No. She wouldn't cower.
She stood, meeting his eyes. Hazel, sharp as broken glass. The kind of eyes that warned: disobey me, and you won't survive.
"It was an accident," she said evenly. "Not incompetence."
A collective gasp. No one talked back to Damian Blackwood.
His brows lifted slightly. For the briefest flicker of a second, amusement—or was it curiosity?—crossed his face.
"Name." His voice cut again.
"Aria." Her heart hammered. "Aria Collins."
The weight of his gaze lingered before he turned back to his board. "Out. Meeting's over."
Confusion filled the room, but no one dared question him. Chairs scraped as executives scrambled to leave. Within moments, the boardroom was empty—except for Aria, still clutching her folder.
"Sit." His command snapped through the silence.
She obeyed, pulse racing.
His office was even more intimidating than the boardroom: floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city, bookshelves lined with leather-bound volumes, a desk that gleamed like obsidian. Damian sat behind it, steepling his fingers, eyes never leaving her.
"You came for the secretary position." Not a question.
"Yes, sir."
"You're clumsy. Reckless. Bold." He studied her like she was a puzzle he intended to solve. "And yet you don't tremble when I speak. Why?"
Aria forced herself to meet his stare. "Because fear doesn't make anyone better at their job."
The corner of his mouth twitched. Not quite a smile, but close enough to chill her.
He pressed a button on his desk phone. "HR. Cancel the interviews. Send the contract."
Her breath caught. "Wait—you're hiring me?"
"You start now," he said simply. "My private secretary."
The words landed like a verdict. Final. Absolute.
She swallowed, nodding. "Yes, Mr. Knight."
"Good." His gaze narrowed, unreadable. "Let's see how long you last."
Minutes later, she was shown to the office right outside his door. A sleek desk, phone lines blinking, stacks of files. Her hands shook as she placed her folder down.
From behind the glass wall, Damian stood at his desk, watching her with that unreadable gaze.
She inhaled slowly. Of all the jobs in this city… why did it have to be his?
And in the silence of his office, Damian muttered under his breath, lips curling around her name like a secret.
"Aria Collins… interesting."