POV: Adrian Blackstone
The elevator climbed sixty floors in silence, each floor marking another step away from Emma Winters and toward the cold reality of what I'd just set in motion. By the time the doors opened to reveal my private office, I'd already compartmentalized the unexpected warmth I'd felt in her cramped Brooklyn studio.
Business. This was business.
"Sir?" Sofia Martinez looked up from her desk as I strode past, her dark eyes sharp with the kind of intelligence that had made her invaluable over the past five years. "How did it go?"
"As expected." I settled behind my desk, the familiar weight of my leather chair grounding me back in my world of glass and steel. "She'll accept."
Sofia raised an eyebrow. "You sound very certain for someone who just met her an hour ago."
I pulled out Emma's file—three inches thick, compiled over months of careful surveillance—and spread it across my desk. Bank statements, credit reports, business records, even her college transcripts. Everything needed to understand exactly how desperate Emma Winters had become.
"She's drowning," I said simply. "Two months behind on rent, maxed out credit cards, suppliers threatening to cut her off. Her fiancé is pressuring her to marry him for his money, her father keeps offering help she's too proud to accept. I'm offering her a lifeline that lets her keep her independence. She'll accept."
"And if she doesn't?"
I looked up at Sofia, noting the concern in her expression. She'd been my assistant since I'd taken over as CEO, but more than that, she was the closest thing I had to family. Former FBI, sharp as a blade, and one of the few people who knew my real name.
"She will," I repeated. "I've studied her for months. Emma Winters values her independence above everything else. She'll see this as a business transaction that gives her what she wants without compromising her principles."
Sofia moved closer to my desk, her heels clicking against the marble floor. "Adrian, I have to ask—are you sure about this plan? Using an innocent woman as a weapon against her father?"
My fingers tightened on Emma's photograph—a candid shot of her laughing in her studio, paint smudged on her cheek, completely unaware she was being watched. For just a moment, I remembered how her eyes had lit up when I'd complimented her work, the passion in her voice when she'd talked about jewelry telling stories.
Then I remembered another story. The story of twelve-year-old Adrian Chen hiding in a closet while his parents were murdered in the next room.
"She's not innocent," I said, my voice flat. "She's Richard Winters' daughter."
"She's also completely unaware of what her father did to your family."
I stood abruptly, moving to the floor-to-ceiling windows that offered a commanding view of Manhattan. Somewhere out there, Richard Winters was probably sitting in his corner office at Winters Corporation, completely oblivious to the fact that the son of Wei and Maria Chen was about to destroy everything he'd built on their graves.
"Twenty years, Sofia." I didn't turn around. "Twenty years I've planned this. Built this empire, created this identity, waited for the perfect moment to strike. Emma Winters is Richard's greatest weakness—the one thing he actually loves more than money or power. Through her, I'll have access to everything. His business, his secrets, his vulnerabilities."
"And what about her vulnerabilities? What about what this will do to her when she finds out the truth?"
The question hit harder than it should have. I'd seen Emma's vulnerability today—the way she'd tried to hide her desperation, the pride that kept her from accepting help even when she was drowning. She was stronger than I'd expected, more genuine. When she'd talked about her jewelry telling stories of resilience, I'd felt something twist uncomfortably in my chest.
I pushed the feeling down. Caring about people led to pain. I'd learned that lesson in the worst possible way.
"She'll survive," I said finally. "She's tougher than she looks."
Sofia was quiet for a long moment. When she spoke again, her voice was gentle. "Your parents wouldn't want this, Adrian. They wouldn't want their deaths to turn you into the kind of man who destroys innocent people for revenge."
I turned from the window, my expression carefully blank. "My parents are dead because they trusted the wrong person. Because they believed Richard Winters was their friend and business partner instead of the murderous thief he really is. I won't make the same mistake."
"So you're going to make Emma Winters fall in love with you and then destroy her? That makes you better than her father how, exactly?"
"I'm not going to make her do anything. This is a business arrangement, nothing more. She gets what she needs, I get what I need. No one's getting hurt."
But even as I said it, I could picture Emma's warm brown eyes, the way she'd looked at me when I'd genuinely complimented her work. She wasn't the cold, spoiled princess I'd expected. She was... complicated.
Sofia picked up one of the surveillance photos from my desk—Emma working late in her studio, completely absorbed in her craft. "She's not what you expected, is she?"
I didn't answer, but Sofia knew me too well to need one.
"Just... be careful, Adrian. Revenge has a way of consuming everything in its path. Including the person seeking it."
After Sofia left, I sat alone in my office, Emma's file spread before me like a battle plan. The private investigator had been thorough. I knew her coffee order, her favorite bookstore, the name of every piece in her current collection. I knew she donated time to a children's art program despite barely being able to pay her own bills. I knew she'd turned down three marriage proposals from Marcus Vale because she didn't love him, even though marrying him would solve all her financial problems.
I knew she had nightmares sometimes and worked through them in her studio, creating her most beautiful pieces in the early hours of morning when sleep wouldn't come.
I knew far too much about Emma Winters for someone who was supposed to see her as nothing more than a chess piece in a twenty-year game of revenge.
My phone buzzed. A text from Marcus Vale, intercepted by the surveillance team: "Emma, I know you're struggling. Just say yes and all your problems disappear. We're good together. Stop being stubborn."
I deleted the message before it could reach Emma's phone. Marcus Vale was weak, manipulative, everything I despised in a man. At least my offer gave Emma real power, real choice. I wasn't trying to control her through emotional manipulation and false promises of love.
I was just trying to use her to destroy her father.
The difference should have felt significant. Instead, it felt like splitting hairs.
My intercom buzzed. "Mr. Blackstone? Richard Winters is on line one. Something about a potential partnership discussion."
Perfect timing. I picked up the phone, letting a cold smile curve my lips. "Richard. What a pleasant surprise."
"Adrian, good to hear from you. I've been thinking about our conversation at the Mitchell Industries gala last month. You mentioned some mutual interests in the tech sector."
Richard Winters' voice was smooth, confident. The voice of a man who'd gotten away with murder for twenty years and thought he always would. He had no idea he was talking to the son of the people he'd killed.
"I'm always interested in profitable ventures," I said carefully. "Did you have something specific in mind?"
"As a matter of fact, I do. But these things are better discussed in person. Perhaps you'd like to join me for dinner this week? I'd love for you to meet my daughter Emma. She's a remarkable young woman—talented, independent, absolutely brilliant."
The pride in his voice was genuine. Whatever else Richard Winters was, he truly loved his daughter. Which would make destroying him all the more satisfying.
"I'd be honored," I lied smoothly. "Though I should mention, I may have already met your daughter. Small world."
"Really? How wonderful. Emma has such good instincts about people. If she likes you, that's a strong recommendation in my book."
If only he knew what his precious daughter would soon be recommending.
After I hung up, I returned to Emma's file, studying her face in the photographs. In forty-eight hours, she would either accept my proposal or reject it. If she rejected it, I'd find another way to get close to Richard Winters. There were always other plans, other approaches.
But as I looked at that photo of her laughing in her studio, something dark and possessive coiled in my chest. I didn't want another approach. I wanted Emma Winters to say yes.
I wanted her to be mine, even if it was only pretend.
Even if I was planning to break her heart.
Sofia was wrong about one thing. I wouldn't fall for Emma Winters. I'd learned long ago that caring about people only led to pain. But as I studied her photo, something twisted uncomfortably in my chest—a feeling I quickly buried beneath twenty years of carefully cultivated ice.
Forty-eight hours. Then Emma Winters would become Emma Blackstone, and the final phase of my revenge would begin.
I just had to make sure I remembered why I was doing this when her warm brown eyes looked at me with trust instead of wariness.
I had to remember that some prices were worth paying, even when they felt like they might cost me more than I'd planned to give.