Elena arrived at Columbia Law Library at 1:15 PM. Fifteen minutes early. Her hands were shaking, and not from the February cold. She'd practiced this moment a hundred times in her bathroom mirror, but standing here in front of the massive glass building, everything felt too real.
She twisted her mother's ring. Breathed deep. The scent of old books and fresh coffee drifted from the entrance, mixing with wet concrete from last night's rain. Students hurried past—backpacks, phones, normal lives. None of them knew what was about to happen.
Elena checked her reflection in the glass doors one last time. Dark jeans that fit well but weren't too sexy. Cream sweater that made her amber eyes pop. Her mother's old leather jacket. She looked exactly like what she was supposed to be: hardworking law student who couldn't afford designer clothes but had decent taste.
The orientation lasted thirty minutes. Margaret Walsh, the head librarian, was a thin woman in her fifties with kind eyes and a no-nonsense attitude. She showed Elena around the circulation desk, explained the computer system, and introduced her to the other student workers.
"Your main job will be helping with research requests and keeping the study areas organized," Margaret said, handing Elena a library ID badge. "The third floor is our busiest section. Law students tend to camp out there for hours."
Perfect.
Elena clipped the badge to her sweater and smiled. "I'm really excited to start. I spend a lot of time here studying anyway."
"Wonderful. Why don't you take a few minutes to familiarize yourself with the layout, then come find me? We'll start you on the circulation desk around three."
Elena nodded and headed for the elevator. Her heart was pounding so hard she was sure everyone could hear it. This was it. After six months of planning, she was finally here.
The third floor was exactly as she remembered from her reconnaissance visits. Tall windows let in gray afternoon light, and rows of study tables stretched between towering bookshelves. The carpet was a faded blue that muffled footsteps, and the air hummed with the quiet energy of focused students.
Elena spotted Adrian immediately.
Same table. Northeast corner. Exactly where her research said he'd be. Dark hair falling into his eyes as he read some thick legal textbook. Navy sweater that looked expensive but not flashy. Sleeves pushed up, showing strong forearms. Even from across the room, she could see the intensity in those green eyes.
He looked... normal. Like any other grad student cramming for exams. Not like the heir to a billion-dollar empire. Not like the son of the man who'd destroyed her mother's life.
Elena's chest tightened. For a second, she almost turned around and walked away. This felt too much like stalking. Too much like she was about to hurt someone who didn't deserve it.
Then she remembered Rosa's face in that hospital bed. The sound of her mother crying late at night when she thought Elena was asleep.
Elena twisted her ring. Squared her shoulders. Got to work.
She chose a table three rows away from Adrian, close enough to execute her plan but not so close as to seem obvious. She spread out her constitutional law textbook and notes, arranged her pens just so, and pulled out her laptop. To anyone watching, she looked like any other diligent student settling in for an afternoon of studying.
At 2:47 PM, Elena made her move.
She'd timed it perfectly. Adrian always took a break around this time, usually to grab coffee from the small café on the second floor. As he pushed back his chair and stretched, Elena stood up and walked toward the stairs, making sure to time her approach so she'd reach the stairwell at the exact same moment he did.
Their fingers brushed. Elena felt a little jolt and jerked her hand back.
"Sorry," Adrian said, stepping back to hold the door. "After you."
His voice was deeper than she'd expected. Warm. There was genuine politeness there, not the fake chivalry she'd seen from other rich guys.
"Thanks." Elena slipped past him, catching a hint of his cologne. Something clean and expensive. Cedar, maybe. Vanilla.
They walked down the stairs together. Not talking, but not awkward either. Elena stole glances from the corner of her eye. Up close, he was even better looking than in photos. Laugh lines around his eyes like he smiled a lot.
The café was busy. Perfect. Elena positioned herself right in front of Adrian, close enough that when she "accidentally" stepped backward, she'd bump into him.
She ordered her usual—a large coffee with oat milk, no sugar—and paid with exact change to avoid delays. As she turned to wait for her drink, she executed the next part of her plan.
Elena pretended to check her phone, holding it in her left hand while gripping her coffee cup with her right. When the barista called Adrian's order—"Large coffee, two sugars"—Elena took a calculated step backward, right as Adrian moved forward to collect his drink.
The collision was perfect. Elena's elbow hit Adrian's arm just as he reached for his cup.
Hot coffee went everywhere.
"Oh God, I'm so sorry!" Elena dropped her phone, grabbing napkins. "I'm such a klutz, I wasn't looking—"
"Hey, it's okay," Adrian interrupted, but his voice was tight. Coffee was spreading across his navy sweater. The fabric looked expensive. Now it was ruined.
"It's not okay." Elena let real distress creep into her voice—this part didn't need acting. "That sweater looks like it costs more than my rent. I just... God, I'm so sorry. I can pay for dry cleaning, or—"
"Really, don't worry about it." Adrian was pulling napkins, but she saw him wince as hot coffee soaked through to his skin. "It's just a sweater."
"Just a sweater?" Elena stared at him. "That's cashmere. And I just destroyed it because I can't walk backward without causing disasters."
Adrian looked down at his sweater, then back at Elena. For a second, she caught something in his eyes. Amusement?
"You know cashmere on sight?" he asked.
Elena froze. Shit. That was exactly the kind of detail someone like Elena Martinez—poor scholarship student—wouldn't necessarily know.
"My mom worked at a dry cleaner for a while," she said quickly. "I learned fabrics early. Usually so I could tell people how much it'd cost to fix whatever they'd screwed up." She gestured helplessly at his sweater. "Like this."
Not a complete lie. Rosa had worked at a cleaner for six months when Elena was in high school, before her back gave out.
"Smart mom," Adrian said, and something in his tone made Elena look up. Understanding, maybe. Like he got what it meant to have a parent working multiple jobs.
"She was." Elena felt an unexpected stab of grief. "Look, please let me buy you another coffee. And give me your number—I'll send money for dry cleaning."
"That's really not necessary."
"It absolutely is." Elena pulled out her phone, grateful for a reason to look away from those too-perceptive green eyes. "I ruined your clothes. Least I can do is try to fix it."
Adrian was quiet for a moment, and Elena could feel him studying her. Her heart raced. Was he suspicious? Had she come on too strong? Too weak?
"Okay," he said finally. "But I'm buying the coffee. And you don't owe me anything for dry cleaning."
"But—"
"I insist." There was something in his voice that suggested arguing would be pointless. Not aggressive, just... final. Like he was used to people accepting his decisions without question.
Elena looked up at him, ready to argue, and found herself getting lost in his eyes. They were greener than they'd looked in photographs, with little gold flecks around the iris. And there was something in them that she hadn't expected. Genuine warmth. Like he was actually enjoying this conversation, despite the fact that she'd just dumped coffee all over his expensive clothes.
"I'm Elena," she said, extending her hand. "Elena Martinez. Professional coffee-dumper and fabric-destroyer."
Adrian's mouth quirked up in a half-smile. "Adrian Blackwood. Professional coffee-spillee, apparently."
His handshake was firm but not crushing. His skin was warm despite the coffee mishap, and Elena noticed he had long fingers. Artist's hands, not a businessman's.
"Blackwood," Elena repeated, as if she'd never heard the name before. "That sounds familiar."
"Does it?" Adrian's expression didn't change, but something shifted in his eyes. A kind of wariness that Elena recognized. He was used to people knowing his name, and he didn't like it.
"Maybe I read it somewhere." Elena shrugged. "I spend way too much time reading legal briefs. Names start to blur together after a while."
The wariness faded, replaced by what looked like relief. Elena filed that reaction away for future use.
"What kind of law are you studying?" Adrian asked as they moved to collect their replacement coffees.
"Constitutional law, mostly. Some civil rights stuff." Elena had prepared this answer carefully. It was close enough to her actual coursework to be believable, but vague enough to avoid detailed questions. "You?"
"Similar, actually. I'm working on a project about housing discrimination. Trying to find legal precedents for a case involving low-income tenants who got evicted so their building could be converted to luxury condos."
Elena blinked. That was... not what she'd expected from the heir to a corporate empire. "That sounds incredibly depressing."
Adrian laughed, and the sound sent an unexpected flutter through Elena's chest. "Yeah, it really is. But someone's gotta fight for people who can't afford to fight for themselves, right?"
Passion in his voice. Real conviction. Elena stared at him, temporarily forgetting her mission. This wasn't the spoiled rich boy she'd imagined for months. This was someone who actually cared about injustice. About people like her and Rosa.
What the hell was she doing?
"Right," she said softly. "Someone does."
They found a table by the window. Afternoon sun streamed through the glass, highlighting the coffee stains on his sweater and making his eyes look almost golden.
"So what's your story?" Adrian asked, wrapping his hands around his coffee cup. "Besides the professional clumsiness."
Elena had rehearsed this conversation dozens of times. But sitting across from Adrian—seeing genuine interest in his expression—made her practiced lies feel heavier than usual.
"Not much of a story, really. Grew up in Queens. Mom was a nurse. Dad died when I was little." The words came out smoothly, but Elena twisted her ring under the table. "Got into Columbia on scholarship. Trying not to fail out."
"Queens, huh?" Adrian leaned forward slightly. "What neighborhood?"
Another test question. Elena was ready for it. "Astoria. You know it?"
"A little. My... a friend of mine lives out there. Says it's got great food."
Elena caught the hesitation and wondered what he'd been about to say instead of "friend." Girlfriend, maybe? Her research hadn't turned up any serious relationships, but that didn't mean there wasn't someone.
"The food is amazing," Elena agreed. "Especially if you like Greek and Middle Eastern cuisine. There's this little place called Taverna Kyclades that makes the best seafood I've ever had."
"I'll have to check it out," Adrian said, and Elena got the impression he actually meant it. Not just polite conversation.
They talked for another twenty minutes. Adrian was easy to talk to, asking thoughtful questions and actually listening to her answers. He told her about his housing project, explaining the legal complexities with enthusiasm that made his whole face light up. Elena found herself genuinely engaged, asking follow-up questions that weren't part of her script.
When Adrian's phone buzzed with a reminder, he glanced at it and sighed.
"I should get back upstairs," he said. "I've got about three more hours of reading to get through before dinner."
"Of course." Elena started to stand, but Adrian held up a hand.
"Actually," he said, and Elena heard nervousness creep into his voice. "I know this is forward, considering we just met after you dumped coffee on me, but... want to get dinner tomorrow night? Somewhere that serves real food, not just overpriced coffee and stale pastries."
Elena's heart stopped.
This was better than she'd hoped. She'd expected to work much harder, maybe stage several more "accidents" before he showed any interest.
"I..." She let herself look flustered. Twisted her ring. "Are you asking me on a date? Because if you are, I should warn you—I'm apparently dangerous around hot beverages."
Adrian's smile was soft. Real. "I'm willing to risk it. And yeah, I'm asking you on a date. If you're interested."
Elena looked into his eyes and felt something she hadn't expected. A flutter of genuine attraction, completely separate from her plans. Adrian was handsome in photos, but in person, there was something magnetic about him. The way he listened when she spoke, like her words actually mattered. The passion in his voice about his legal work. The kindness in his smile that reached his eyes.
For a moment, Elena forgot why she was here. Forgot about Richard Blackwood and revenge and months of planning. There was just this moment, this man looking at her like she was someone worth knowing.
Then reality crashed back in.
This wasn't a romantic comedy. This was the beginning of a carefully orchestrated deception that would end with someone's heart getting shattered.
Elena hoped it wouldn't be hers.
"I'd love to," she said, and her smile felt almost genuine. "But I should probably warn you—I'm not great at first dates either."
"Good thing it'll be my first time asking someone out after they've destroyed my clothes," Adrian said. "We'll be figuring it out together."
He pulled out his phone, and Elena noticed his hands were slightly shaky as he opened his contacts app. "What's your number?"
Elena rattled off her cell phone number, the one she'd gotten specifically for this mission. As Adrian typed it in, she studied his face. He looked nervous but pleased, like a college kid asking out his crush rather than a billionaire's heir picking up random women in coffee shops.
"Elena Martinez," he said, reading her name off his screen. "Got it."
"And you're Adrian Blackwood," Elena said, pulling out her own phone. "In case I need to warn you about any other dangerous coffee situations."
Adrian laughed and gave her his number. As Elena saved it in her contacts, she felt a strange sense of unreality. Six months of planning, and now Adrian Blackwood's phone number was sitting in her phone like it was the most natural thing in the world.
"I should let you get back to your reading," Elena said, standing up. "Thanks for being so nice about the coffee disaster."
"Thanks for making my afternoon more interesting," Adrian replied, getting to his feet as well. "I'll text you tomorrow about dinner?"
"I'll try not to spill anything on you before then."
"I'll wear something less expensive, just in case."
They parted ways at the elevator, Adrian heading back to the third floor and Elena going down to the circulation desk to finish her first day of work. As the elevator doors closed between them, Elena saw Adrian's reflection in the metal—he was smiling to himself, looking pleased and slightly stunned.
Elena leaned against the back wall of the elevator and closed her eyes. Phase One was complete. She'd made contact, established a connection, and secured a date. Everything had gone exactly according to plan.
So why did she feel like she'd just made a terrible mistake?
Margaret Walsh kept Elena busy for the rest of her shift, training her on the check-out system and showing her how to help students find obscure legal texts. The work was mindless enough that Elena's thoughts kept drifting back to Adrian. The warmth in his voice when he talked about helping people. The way he'd insisted on buying her coffee even though she'd ruined his clothes. The nervous shake in his hands when he'd asked for her number.
None of it fit with what she'd expected from Richard Blackwood's son. Adrian was supposed to be arrogant, entitled, carelessly cruel like his father. Instead, he seemed genuinely kind. Humble, even. Like he had no idea that his last name opened doors most people could never walk through.
At six o'clock, Elena clocked out and made her way back to the third floor. She told herself she was just checking to make sure Adrian was still there, gathering intelligence for tomorrow night's date. But as she peered around the corner of the stairwell, she felt something tighten in her chest.
Adrian was still at his table, surrounded by books and legal documents. But he wasn't reading. He was staring out the window, his chin resting on his hand, looking lost in thought. There was something melancholy about his expression, something that made Elena want to walk over and ask what was wrong.
Instead, she turned away and headed for the exit. She had what she'd come for. Tomorrow night, she'd take the next step in her plan to destroy Richard Blackwood's perfect family.
As Elena walked across campus toward the subway, her phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
*Thanks again for the interesting afternoon. Looking forward to dinner tomorrow. - Adrian*
Elena stared at the message. Her thumb hovered over the keyboard. The smart move would be to respond immediately. Something flirty. Keep the momentum going.
Instead, she found herself thinking about the way Adrian had looked when he'd asked for her number. Nervous and hopeful and genuinely interested. Not because she was a conquest or entertainment. Because something about their conversation had sparked something real.
When was the last time someone had looked at Elena like that? Like she was worth pursuing?
Never. In her entire life, no one had ever looked at Elena Russo the way Adrian Blackwood had looked at Elena Martinez.
And tomorrow night, she was going to lie to his face for three hours straight.
Elena typed: *Looking forward to it too. Try not to wear anything too nice—I might find new ways to be destructive.*
His response came instantly: *I like living dangerously.*
Elena smiled despite herself. Then she remembered what she was planning to do to this man who liked living dangerously.
The smile died.
As her train pulled in, Elena made herself a promise. She'd go through with the plan—she had to, for Rosa. But she'd be quick about it. Make Adrian fall for her, get close to the Blackwood family, gather what she needed for revenge, then get out before anyone got hurt too badly.
It was a nice plan. Clean. Efficient. Minimal damage.
Elena almost believed it would work that way.