I stood in front of the Blackstone Capital building at exactly 8:45 AM, fifteen minutes before my scheduled start time. The glass tower stretched up into the gray Manhattan sky like a knife blade. Fifty-two floors of steel and concrete that had been built with money stolen from families like mine.
My reflection stared back at me from the polished lobby doors. I had chosen my outfit carefully - a navy blue business suit that was professional but not too expensive, paired with simple black heels and minimal jewelry. I looked like every other ambitious young graduate starting their first job on Wall Street. Harmless. Eager. Completely underestimated.
Perfect.
I walked through the revolving doors and into the marble lobby. The security desk was staffed by two guards who barely looked up from their newspapers as I approached. I showed them my new employee ID card and temporary access badge that HR had mailed to me last week.
"First day?" asked the older guard, a heavyset man with gray hair.
"Yes, sir. I'm starting in the investment analysis department."
He handed me a visitor's badge and pointed toward the elevator bank. "Forty-third floor. Good luck, kid."
I thanked him and walked toward the elevators, my heels clicking against the marble floor. The sound echoed in the vast lobby space, mixing with the quiet conversations of other employees starting their day. Everyone looked confident and expensive. These were people who had never wondered where their next meal was coming from or worried about paying rent.
The elevator was crowded with suits and designer handbags. I squeezed into a corner and watched the floor numbers climb. Thirty. Thirty-five. Forty. When the doors opened on the forty-third floor, I stepped out into a hallway lined with glass offices and conference rooms.
The investment analysis department was at the end of the hall. I found my new supervisor, Janet Morrison, waiting for me with a stack of paperwork and a forced smile.
"Sophia Laurent, welcome to Blackstone Capital," she said, shaking my hand. "Ready for orientation?"
For the next two hours, Janet walked me through company policies, computer systems, and my daily responsibilities. I would be analyzing market trends and preparing reports for senior investors. Entry-level work, but it would give me access to the company's financial databases. That was all I needed.
"Any questions so far?" Janet asked as we finished reviewing the employee handbook.
"Just one. I like to take short breaks outside during the day. Is there a balcony or outdoor space I can use?"
Janet looked puzzled. "Well, there's the rooftop terrace on the fifty-second floor. It's mainly used for executive events, but employees can access it during lunch hours. You'll need your badge to get through the door."
"That sounds perfect. Thank you."
At 11:30 AM, I told Janet I was taking a quick break and headed for the elevators. The rooftop terrace wasn't really about fresh air. I needed to scout all possible exit routes from the building. If my investigation went wrong and I needed to escape quickly, I had to know every option available.
The elevator ride to the fifty-second floor felt longer than it should have. When the doors opened, I found myself facing a heavy metal door marked "ROOFTOP ACCESS - AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY." I swiped my badge and heard the lock click open.
The wind hit me as soon as I stepped outside. The rooftop terrace was larger than I expected, with metal railings around the perimeter and several outdoor seating areas. From up here, I could see all of Manhattan spread out below. Central Park was a green rectangle to the north, and the Hudson River sparkled in the distance.
I walked to the edge and looked down. Fifty-two floors was a long way to fall, but there were other buildings nearby. If I had to, I could probably jump to the roof of the adjacent office building. It would be dangerous, but possible.
"Planning your escape route already?"
I spun around, my heart jumping into my throat. A man was standing near the rooftop door, watching me with dark blue eyes that seemed to see everything. He was tall, maybe six-two, with black hair and sharp features that belonged on a magazine cover. His expensive charcoal suit fit him perfectly, and he moved with the easy confidence of someone who had never been told no in his entire life.
I knew who he was immediately. Damien Blackstone. Alexander's son and heir to the company. I had studied dozens of photos of him during my research, but none of them had captured how dangerous he looked in person.
"Excuse me?" I said, trying to keep my voice steady.
He started walking toward me, his hands in his pockets. "You're the new girl, right? Sophie something?"
"Sophia Laurent. And you are?"
"Damien Blackstone." He stopped about three feet away from me, close enough that I had to tilt my head back to look at his face. "This is my building. My rooftop. I like to know who's wandering around up here."
"I was just getting some fresh air. Janet said employees could use this space during lunch."
"Janet says a lot of things." He moved closer to the railing, standing right at the edge with his back to the fifty-two-story drop. "But most employees don't come up here on their first day. Most employees don't spend ten minutes studying the distance to other buildings."
My mouth went dry. How long had he been watching me? "I don't know what you mean."
"Sure you do." He leaned back against the railing, casual as if he was sitting in a comfortable chair instead of balancing on the edge of a skyscraper. "You were calculating. Measuring distances. Planning something."
I forced myself to stay calm. "Planning to enjoy the view. It's beautiful up here."
"It is." His eyes never left my face. "Especially when you're close to the edge. There's something about being up this high that makes everything else seem small and unimportant."
The wind was getting stronger, whipping my hair around my face. Damien didn't seem to notice. He looked completely relaxed, but there was something predatory about the way he was watching me. Like a cat playing with a mouse.
"You should be careful," I said. "That railing doesn't look very stable."
"Worried about me?" He smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "That's sweet. But I've been coming up here since I was a kid. I know exactly how far I can lean without falling."
He demonstrated by leaning back even further, his weight balanced on the metal rail. For a moment, I thought he was going to fall backward into empty air. My instinct was to reach out and grab him, but I forced myself to stay still.
"You know what I think?" he said, still balanced precariously on the edge. "I think you're not here for the view. I think you're here for something else entirely."
"And what would that be?"
"That's what I'm trying to figure out." He pushed himself forward, away from the railing, and took a step closer to me. "Most people who come up here for the first time are nervous about the height. They stay away from the edge. But you walked right over and started studying the other buildings like you were planning a heist."
"Maybe I'm not most people."
"No," he said quietly. "You're definitely not."
There was something in his voice that made me shiver. He was standing close enough now that I could smell his cologne - something expensive and masculine that probably cost more than my monthly rent. His blue eyes were studying my face like he was trying to solve a puzzle.
"Want to know what else I think?" he asked.
"I'm sure you're going to tell me."
"I think you're scared. Not of the height - you're not afraid of falling. You're afraid of something else. Something that made you come up here looking for an escape route."
My heart was beating so fast I was sure he could hear it. "You have quite an imagination."
"Do I?" He reached out and touched my chin, tilting my face up so I had to look directly into his eyes. His fingers were warm against my skin. "You know, if you really wanted to jump, I could help you. Save you the trouble of climbing over the railing."
The words were spoken quietly, almost gently, but there was steel underneath them. A threat wrapped in silk.
"Are you threatening me?" I asked.
"I'm offering assistance. If someone wanted to die, a little push would be much quicker than trying to work up the courage to jump alone."
I jerked away from his touch. "You're insane."
"Maybe. Or maybe I'm just practical." He stepped back, giving me space, but his eyes stayed locked on mine. "The question is, what are you? Brave or stupid?"
"I'm neither. I'm just an employee trying to take a lunch break."
"Laurent." He said my last name slowly, like he was tasting it. "That's an interesting name. French, isn't it?"
"My family came from France originally, yes."
"Laurent." He repeated it again, and something shifted in his expression. The playful menace was replaced by something sharper, more focused. "I know that name."
My blood went cold, but I kept my face neutral. "It's not that uncommon."
"No, but it's familiar for a different reason." He was studying me more intently now, like he was comparing my face to something in his memory. "Charles Laurent. He used to work in finance. Died a few years ago in a car accident."
I felt like someone had punched me in the stomach, but I forced myself to breathe normally. "I wouldn't know. I don't really follow financial news."
"Really? That's strange, considering you just graduated from Harvard Business School with a focus on investment analysis."
He had done his homework. Of course he had. The Blackstone family didn't get where they were by being careless.
"A lot of people work in finance," I said. "That doesn't mean I know all of them."
"True. But Charles Laurent wasn't just anyone. He was one of the biggest names on Wall Street before he died. And his death..." Damien paused, watching my reaction carefully. "His death was very tragic. Very sudden. Very convenient for some people."
"Convenient?"
"His company was in financial trouble. There were rumors about irregularities in his books. Some people said he killed himself rather than face the scandal."
"And what do you think?" The question came out before I could stop it.
Damien smiled, and this time it was genuine. Cold and sharp, but genuine. "I think Charles Laurent had too much pride to kill himself. I think someone else decided he was a problem that needed to be solved."
The wind was howling now, making it hard to hear anything except the blood rushing in my ears. Damien knew. Maybe not everything, but he knew enough to be dangerous.
"That's a very serious accusation," I said.
"It would be, if I was making one. But I'm just speculating about a dead man. Ancient history, really."
"If you say so."
"I do say so. Just like I say that Charles Laurent's daughter would be about your age now. And she would probably be very angry about what happened to her father. Angry enough to do something stupid."
Our eyes met across the windy rooftop, and I felt like I was looking into the face of my enemy's son for the first time. Not the charming heir or the dangerous playboy, but someone who was just as smart and just as ruthless as I was.
"Hypothetically speaking," I said, "what would happen to someone who was planning something stupid?"
"Hypothetically? They would disappear. Quietly and permanently. No car accidents this time - too obvious. Maybe a mugging gone wrong. Or a fall from a very tall building."
He gestured toward the railing behind him, and I understood the threat perfectly.
"Good thing I'm not planning anything stupid, then."
"Good thing." He checked his expensive watch. "I should get back to work. I have a meeting with my father in twenty minutes."
He started walking toward the door, then stopped and looked back at me.
"You know, Sophia, you should be more careful up here. The wind can be unpredictable. Someone could get blown right off the edge if they weren't paying attention."
"I'll keep that in mind."
"You do that. And remember - this is my building. My rooftop. My territory. If you decide you want to take any more breaks up here, maybe let me know first. I'd hate for there to be any accidents."
He disappeared through the metal door, leaving me alone with the wind and the fifty-two-story drop.
I waited five minutes to make sure he was really gone, then walked to the railing and looked down at the street below. Tiny cars moved like ants between the buildings. People looked like dots on the sidewalks. From up here, everything seemed small and insignificant.
Just like Damien had said.
I thought about his words, about the way he had looked at me when he mentioned my father's name. He knew who I was. Maybe not all the details, but enough to be suspicious. That made him dangerous.
But it also made him interesting.
The way he had stood on the edge of the building, completely fearless. The way he had threatened me while offering to help me commit suicide. The way his eyes had changed when he talked about Charles Laurent's death - like he knew more than he was saying.
Damien Blackstone was not what I had expected. I had prepared for his father - the cold, calculating businessman who would see me as a threat to be eliminated. But Damien was different. He was younger, more unpredictable. More dangerous in ways I hadn't anticipated.
I checked my own watch. I had been up here for almost thirty minutes. Janet would be wondering where I was. I needed to get back to work and pretend to be a normal employee for the rest of the day.
But as I walked toward the door, I couldn't stop thinking about what Damien had said. About Charles Laurent being a problem that needed to be solved. About his death being convenient for some people.
He had been talking about his own father. Alexander Blackstone, who had gained everything when Charles Laurent died. Which meant Damien knew, or at least suspected, that his father was a murderer.
The question was: what was he planning to do about it?
I opened the rooftop door and stepped back into the climate-controlled building. The elevator ride down to the forty-third floor gave me time to think about what had just happened. Damien had threatened me, but he had also given me information. Information I could use.
If he suspected his father of murder, maybe we were on the same side. Or maybe he was trying to protect Alexander by warning me away. Either way, I needed to be more careful around him.
I also needed to find out more about him. What did he really know about my father's death? What was his relationship with Alexander like? And most importantly - could I trust him, or was he just another enemy wearing a prettier face?
When I got back to my desk, Janet looked up from her computer with a concerned expression.
"There you are! I was starting to worry. How was the rooftop?"
"Windy," I said, sitting down at my computer. "But the view was incredible."
"Did you see anyone else up there? Sometimes the executives use it for informal meetings."
"I ran into Damien Blackstone. He seemed... friendly."
Janet's eyes widened. "You met Damien? Wow, you're lucky. He doesn't usually talk to entry-level employees. He must have been in a good mood."
I thought about the way he had leaned over the railing, the casual threat in his voice, the cold smile when he talked about my father's death.
"Yeah," I said, turning to my computer screen. "He seemed like he was having a great day."
But as I started reviewing the financial reports Janet had assigned me, I couldn't concentrate on the numbers. All I could think about was Damien's blue eyes and the way he had said my father's name. Like he knew exactly who Charles Laurent was and exactly how he had died.
Tomorrow, I would start digging deeper into the Blackstone family's secrets. But tonight, I would go home and add a new entry to my evidence log:
"Day 1 - Contact made with primary target's son. Subject knows more than expected. Approach with extreme caution."
Damien Blackstone had wanted to scare me away. Instead, he had given me my first real lead. Because if the son suspected the father of murder, then I wasn't the only one looking for the truth about Charles Laurent's death.
The question was whether that made Damien Blackstone my greatest asset or my most dangerous enemy.
I had a feeling I was about to find out.