His Enemy’s Daughter

The office was quieter than usual that afternoon. Meetings had wrapped early, and most of the executives were off-site for a shareholder luncheon. The stillness wrapped itself around the 38th floor like fog—soft, unsettling, and oddly intimate.

Amelia didn't mind the quiet. It gave her time to focus.

She sat at her desk, reviewing updates for a potential acquisition in Singapore. Her eyes scanned the screen, but her mind kept drifting.

To him.

Liam Blackthorne.

She could still feel the weight of his gaze from the morning meeting. The way he stood so close. The way he said her name like it was a mystery he hadn't solved yet.

It made no sense. She was just a junior analyst, barely a month into her job.

And yet...

There was something in his presence that pulled at her. A magnetism she didn't trust.

She blinked, shook off the thought, and returned to her notes. Focus, Amelia. Stop daydreaming about your boss.

Just as she highlighted a key financial note, she noticed her water bottle was empty. With a soft sigh, she grabbed it and walked toward the break room at the end of the hall.

The 38th-floor break room was rarely used, tucked between two executive conference rooms. The floor-to-ceiling windows gave a breathtaking view of the city, and the entire space smelled faintly of espresso and new leather. It was quiet, peaceful—until a low voice broke the silence.

She paused, mid-step, just outside the entrance.

The sound came from the glass wall of Conference Room B. The blinds were half-drawn, but the door wasn't fully closed. Two voices inside. One low and commanding. The other quieter. Male.

She recognized that low voice instantly.

Liam.

Her grip on the water bottle tightened.

She didn't mean to eavesdrop.

She told herself to keep walking.

But something in his tone made her freeze.

"She doesn't know who she is," Liam said.

A pause.

The second man replied, "And you're certain it's her? Richard Hale's daughter?"

Amelia's breath caught.

Her knees nearly gave out.

The name hit her like a punch.

Richard Hale. Her father.

Why were they talking about her father?

She leaned slightly toward the glass, pulse racing.

Liam's voice again, colder this time. "Same eyes. Same file. It's her. No doubt."

"What's the plan?"

Another pause.

Then: "The same one we started five years ago. Only now... we have the perfect leverage."

A silence.

Then the second man laughed, low and bitter. "And she walked straight into the lion's den."

Liam didn't laugh.

"She won't even see it coming."

Amelia stepped back, heart thudding so hard it echoed in her ears.

Leverage? A plan? Her father?

It didn't make sense. None of it did.

Her first instinct was to barge in, demand answers. But logic stopped her. She couldn't afford to draw attention. Not without knowing the full picture.

Instead, she turned and walked quietly—quickly—back to her desk.

Once seated, she stared at her screen, but she couldn't see a single word. Her vision blurred with panic.

Why would Liam Blackthorne know her father's name?

Why would he care?

Her father hadn't been involved in corporate life for years—not since... the scandal. The bankruptcy. The whispers.

Memories clawed at her: shouting behind closed doors, reporters at the gate, her mother crying in the kitchen. She'd buried those memories deep.

Until now.

Suddenly, Liam's interest in her didn't seem flattering.

It felt like a trap.

An hour passed. She didn't move. Didn't speak. Her hands remained clenched in her lap while her mind replayed the conversation over and over.

Was it really about her?

It had to be. Her name. Her father's name.

And that final sentence…

"She won't even see it coming."

Her phone buzzed. A message from Kara.

"Mr. Blackthorne wants you in his office. Now."

Her blood ran cold.

As if summoned by her own fear.

She took a shaky breath, smoothed her skirt, and stood.

Liam's office was carved into the skyline, a fortress of glass and steel. When she entered, he stood behind his desk, back to the window once more, the city stretching behind him like a chessboard.

"Close the door," he said without looking at her.

She did.

He turned.

Calm. Controlled.

His expression unreadable.

"You seemed distracted during the Collins debrief," he said.

Amelia met his gaze. "Apologies, sir. I didn't mean to be."

"You're usually more focused."

"I had... a headache."

He studied her, as if weighing the truth of her words.

"Sit."

She did, cautiously, folding her hands in her lap.

Liam walked around the desk and leaned against it, directly in front of her. His eyes never left hers.

"You've been doing good work," he said. "Better than most interns we've had."

"Thank you."

"But this job isn't just about numbers, Amelia. It's about instinct. People. Reading between the lines."

She said nothing.

"Which is why I want you on something new."

Her eyes widened. "Me?"

"A personal project," he continued. "Strictly confidential. No one else will know about it. Not Kara. Not anyone."

The room seemed to tilt.

"Why me?"

Liam smiled faintly. "Because you ask questions no one else dares to. Because you see things others miss. And because I trust you."

She forced a breath. "What kind of project?"

He leaned in slightly, voice low. "Let's just say... it involves legacy. Cleaning up the messes others left behind."

Her stomach twisted.

He was playing a game. She could feel it now.

A game with rules she didn't know.

"What would you need me to do?"

"For now? Observe. Listen. Report directly to me."

She nodded slowly, though every fiber in her body screamed run.

"Of course," she said.

Liam watched her another second, then stood.

"You'll be working more closely with me from now on," he added. "Which means you'll need access. I'll have security issue you a new badge."

"Thank you, Mr. Blackthorne."

He smiled.

But it didn't reach his eyes.

"You can go."

She rose, her legs stiff. As she turned toward the door, his voice stopped her once more.

"Oh, and Amelia?"

She glanced back.

"If anyone ever asks you about your father while you work here… lie."

Her heart dropped.

He said it so casually. As if it were a suggestion.

But it wasn't.

It was a command.

Back at her desk, Amelia stared at her new badge. It sparkled slightly under the overhead light. Higher clearance. Closer proximity.

She was in.

And she was terrified.

Something dark coiled beneath Liam Blackthorne's polished exterior. She'd seen it now. Heard it.

She didn't know what game he was playing.

But she had a sinking feeling...

She was the pawn.

And he was moving the pieces.