The next morning, Damien was different.
Not colder — colder she could handle. Not angrier — anger was predictable. No, this was something else. Something quieter.
He moved through the penthouse with the precision of a man setting a stage. Coffee appeared on the table before she'd even sat down. The news was already playing on the muted television, the headlines scrolling past like coded messages.
"You're up early," she said, watching him from across the room.
"I have work," he replied, his tone neutral. "And so do you."
She frowned. "I don't work for you."
He looked at her then — really looked — and the faintest smile touched his lips. "You do now."
Before she could answer, he slid a folder across the table. Inside were photographs, documents, and a list of names she didn't recognize. At the bottom, in his precise handwriting, was a single instruction:
Find the weakness.
She closed the folder. "What is this?"
"A test," he said simply. "You want to play my game? Then you'll learn how to win it."
Her instinct was to refuse. But refusing would mean stepping back into the role of pawn, and she'd already tasted what it felt like to move first.
"Fine," she said. "But I choose how I play."
Damien's smile deepened — not approval, not mockery, but something in between. "That's the only choice you'll get."
The day unfolded like a maze. Every name in that folder led to another, every photograph to a shadow she couldn't quite catch. And yet, the deeper she went, the more she realized Damien had given her just enough to keep her moving… but not enough to see the whole picture.
By evening, she returned to the penthouse with her notes. Damien was waiting, leaning against the window with the city burning gold behind him.
"Well?" he asked.
She handed him the folder. "I found three weaknesses. Two financial, one personal. But you already knew that."
He took the folder without looking inside. "Of course I did."
Her jaw tightened. "Then what was the point?"
He stepped closer, his voice low. "The point, Celeste, is that you just spent an entire day following my trail without realizing it. You think you're learning the rules, but I'm the one writing them."
She met his gaze, refusing to look away. "Then maybe it's time I start rewriting them."
For a moment, they stood in silence — two predators circling the same kill.
And then Damien said, almost casually, "Good. I was hoping you'd say that."