Three days after the coffee shop, Elena stood outside the Plaza Hotel wearing a black cocktail dress from a Brooklyn consignment shop. The dress had cost two weeks of groceries, but tonight was her chance to get inside Richard Blackwood's world.
She'd found the charity gala through social media stalking—the Blackwood Foundation's annual literacy fundraiser. Five thousand a plate. Manhattan's elite feeling generous over wine and caviar.
Getting in had required creativity. Elena researched the guest list, found Jessica Hartwell—a socialite blogger with food poisoning. One phone call pretending to be Jessica's assistant, claiming to send "research associate Elena Martinez" as replacement coverage. Thin story, but the harried coordinator had been too busy to verify.
The ballroom was crystal chandeliers and cream linen. Elena spotted Adrian immediately—perfectly tailored tux, tugging at his bow tie like he'd rather be anywhere else. She forced herself to look away. She wasn't here for Adrian.
She found Richard near the bar, holding court. Silver hair, calculating amber eyes—her own eyes—surveying his kingdom. This was the first time she'd seen her father in person.
He was smaller than expected, maybe 5'10", but his presence filled the room. Elena watched him work—genuine smiles for business partners, polite nods for socialites, cold dismissal for anyone useless to him.
Elena positioned herself behind a pillar, close enough to observe. A jewelry-heavy woman approached Richard.
"How's Adrian adjusting to his new responsibilities?"
"Very well. Though I worry he's too idealistic." Richard's response was practiced. "Nothing like his... well, you know."
The woman's unfinished comment made Elena frown. Nothing like his what?
A voice behind her made Elena's blood freeze.
"Uncle Richard certainly knows how to throw a party."
Elena turned. A tall man with graying hair approached Richard. Same sharp features, same calculating eyes, but darker. More dangerous.
Marcus Blackwood. Richard's older brother. The "M" from her mother's diary.
"Marcus." Richard's greeting was cool. "I wasn't sure you'd make it."
"Wouldn't miss it. Though I notice you didn't seat me at the family table." Marcus stepped closer, voice dropping. "Still pretending that boy is your son?"
Elena strained to hear.
"Adrian is my son in every way that matters."
"Is he? Because the board cares about bloodlines. And if certain irregularities in his adoption came to light..."
"There are no irregularities." Richard's voice was steel. "Adrian's adoption was completely legal."
"Was it? I remember a different story about where that boy came from. Why you were so desperate to bring him into the family twenty-one years ago."
Elena's pulse quickened. This was gold.
"Ancient history," Richard said. "None of your business."
"It is my business when that boy stands to inherit what should belong to someone with actual Blackwood blood."
Richard faced Marcus fully, real anger flashing in his eyes. "Are you threatening my son?"
"I'm stating facts. The board won't tolerate uncertainty about succession. And if they discovered Adrian's adoption wasn't as clean as you claim..."
"They won't discover anything."
"Won't they?" Marcus showed Richard something on his phone. Richard went pale. "I had lunch with Jonathan Mercer. Remember him—from the adoption agency? Fascinating conversation."
"What do you want?"
"What should have been mine from the beginning. When the board realizes your precious heir is nothing but a charity case with forged papers..."
Elena leaned forward desperately. Her foot caught her dress. She stumbled, wine glass clinking against the pillar.
Both men turned.
Richard's amber eyes—her own eyes—locked onto her face. Recognition flickered. Not full recognition, but something. Some instinct that this young woman with his eyes didn't belong here.
"Excuse me," Richard said, moving toward Elena.
Panic. Elena turned to run and crashed into someone's chest.
"Whoa, easy." Strong hands steadied her.
Adrian.
"Elena? What are you doing here?"
Elena's mind raced. Richard was approaching, face sharp with suspicion. She had seconds to explain.
"My friend Jessica was supposed to cover this for her blog, but she got food poisoning, so she asked me to take notes, and I know I shouldn't be here but—"
"Hey, slow down." Adrian's hands steadied her. "Breathe."
Elena forced herself to stop babbling. Adrian looked concerned, not suspicious.
"You're here working?"
"Sort of. Taking notes about the auction for Jessica's followers. But I have no idea what I'm doing. I feel like everyone can tell I don't belong."
Not entirely a lie.
"You belong anywhere you want to be," Adrian said firmly.
"Is there a problem?"
Richard's voice cut like a blade. Elena turned to find him close enough to touch, eyes moving between her face and Adrian's protective posture.
"No problem, Dad. Elena's covering the event for a lifestyle blog. Elena, this is my father, Richard Blackwood."
Elena extended her shaking hand. "Mr. Blackwood, it's an honor. Thank you for hosting such a wonderful event."
Richard took her hand, fingers tightening as he studied her face. His touch was cold, clinical.
"Martinez," he repeated. "Which publication?"
Elena's throat went dry. She couldn't remember Jessica's blog name.
"Lifestyle and Luxury Living," Adrian said smoothly. "Elena mentioned Jessica Hartwell couldn't make it."
Richard's eyes never left Elena's face. "I'm not familiar with Ms. Hartwell's work."
"She focuses on philanthropic events in Manhattan," Elena managed.
"I'm sure." Richard's smile was sharp as glass. "How long have you worked with Ms. Hartwell?"
Questions coming too fast. Elena felt herself losing control.
"Not long. This is actually my first event for her."
"How exciting. And you're a student? Where?"
"Columbia Law," Adrian answered again, and Elena felt gratitude mixed with panic. Every time Adrian helped her, she dragged him deeper into lies.
"Fascinating. And your family?"
Elena's chest tightened. The trap was building, question by question.
"I should get back to taking notes," she said quickly. "I don't want to take up your time—"
"Nonsense. I'm always interested in meeting bright young people." Richard's smile was predatory. "Perhaps you'd like a tour? I could show you areas that might interest your readers."
Not a polite offer. An order.
"That's very kind, but—"
"I insist."
Elena felt the blood drain from her face. Richard wasn't making a polite offer. He was giving an order, and she had no choice but to comply or risk exposing herself completely.
"Actually, Dad, Elena promised to help me with something first." Adrian stepped closer to Elena, his presence solid and reassuring. "There's an issue with one of the auction items that needs sorting out."
Richard's eyes narrowed. "What kind of issue?"
"Paperwork error. Nothing major, but it needs to be handled before the bidding closes." Adrian's voice was calm, authoritative. Elena had never been more grateful for someone in her life.
For a moment, father and son stared at each other in silent communication. Elena could feel the tension between them, some deeper conflict that had nothing to do with her but everything to do with power and control.
"Of course," Richard said finally. "Take care of it. Ms. Martinez, perhaps we can continue our conversation later."
It sounded like a threat.
"I'd like that," Elena lied.
Richard nodded curtly and walked away, but Elena could feel his eyes on her back as Adrian guided her toward the auction tables.
"Thank you," she whispered once they were out of earshot.
"For what?"
"For saving me from your father's interrogation. I was starting to feel like a suspect in a criminal case."
Adrian's jaw tightened. "Yeah, he can come on a bit strong sometimes. Occupational hazard of running a corporation—everyone's a potential threat or asset."
They moved to the auction tables, pretending to examine bidding sheets. Elena tried to focus on vacation packages while her mind raced over everything she'd heard.
"Adrian, can I ask something personal?"
"Shoot."
"I heard part of a conversation about your adoption. Are you adopted?"
Adrian went still. Elena watched emotions play across his face—surprise, wariness, pain.
"Yeah. I was five when Richard and Victoria took me in. Birth parents died in a car accident."
Elena's chest tightened hearing the sadness in his voice.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bring up something painful."
"It's okay. Not a secret. Most people know." Adrian's smile was forced. "Though Richard prefers not to advertise it. He's big on the 'family legacy' thing."
"That must be complicated."
"Try growing up as heir to an empire when you're not blood related. There's always someone ready to remind you that you don't really belong."
Elena thought about Marcus's words. She wanted to warn Adrian he was in danger, but couldn't without explaining her eavesdropping.
"For what it's worth, I think you belong wherever you choose to belong."
Adrian looked at her with such gratitude that Elena felt sick with guilt. "That means a lot."
"I should go," Elena said finally. "I've gotten enough material for Jessica's blog."
"I'll walk you out."
As they left, Elena caught Richard watching her from across the room. He was writing something in a small notebook. Her name, maybe. Or instructions for someone to investigate the mysterious Elena Martinez.
Outside the Plaza, February wind cut through Elena's thin coat.
"Want to tell me what you were really doing in there?" Adrian asked as they waited for his car.
Elena's heart stopped. "What do you mean?"
"I've never heard of Lifestyle and Luxury Living, and Jessica Hartwell hasn't covered a charity event in two years." Adrian's voice was gentle but firm. "So either you're working for a publication that doesn't exist, or something else is going on."
Elena stared at him, mind blank.
"I wanted to see your world," she said quietly. "Understand what your life is like. I knew the only way was to see you with your family. So I found out about the gala and got in."
Close enough to truth to sound believable.
"You came to a five-thousand-dollar gala just to see me?"
"Technically, I avoided paying five thousand dollars. But yes."
Adrian started laughing. "That's either the most romantic thing anyone's done for me, or the most insane."
"Can't it be both?"
In Adrian's BMW, Elena replayed the evening. Richard's suspicious questions. Marcus's threats about Adrian's adoption. The way both men had looked at her like she was dangerous.
"Can I ask you something?" Adrian said as they pulled up outside Elena's building.
"Sure."
"Tonight, when you were talking to my father... did you feel like he was testing you?"
Elena's breath caught. "What do you mean?"
"He asked a lot of questions, had this look like he was solving a puzzle." Adrian turned to face her. "Has anyone ever told you that you have distinctive eyes?"
Elena's blood turned to ice. "Distinctive how?"
"The color. That amber shade is unusual. Actually, it's funny—you and my father have almost the exact same eye color."
Elena stared, her heart hammering. Of course Richard had noticed. Of course he'd seen his own eyes staring back.
"Do we?" she managed. "I never noticed."
"Yeah, it's weird. Anyway, I'm probably reading too much into it. Richard's suspicious of everyone."
Adrian walked Elena to her building, kissing her cheek softly. "I'll call you tomorrow?"
"I'd like that."
Elena watched him drive away, then climbed to her apartment on unsteady legs. She'd gotten inside the Blackwood world, but she'd painted a target on her back. Richard suspected something. And Adrian was asking dangerous questions.
Her phone buzzed: *Tonight was full of surprises. Sleep well, Elena Martinez. - Adrian*
Elena smiled despite herself. Then she remembered Richard's calculating expression, those amber eyes so much like her own.
Richard Blackwood knew something was wrong. And Elena had the sinking feeling her plan was about to spiral out of control.
**End of Chapter 3**