The job link glowed on her cracked screen like a dare. Blackwood Global Holdings. Lucas Black. The name alone was a weapon in Adrian's world: a synonym for ruthless ambition and cutthroat tactics.
Natalie's first instinct was to delete it. This was a trap. The same anonymous sender who'd destroyed her marriage was now offering salvation? The timing was too perfect, too calculated.
But as she looked around the motel room, the stained carpet, the peeling wallpaper, the shattered lamp, and the cold reality settled in her bones. This wasn't just a room; it was her future. Unless she fought back.
*You have no marketable skills*, Adrian's voice echoed in her mind.
Rage, cold and sharp, cleared the panic. He was wrong. She had one marketable skill: she knew Adrian Steele better than anyone. She knew his business, his weaknesses, the secrets he whispered in the dark after too much whiskey. She had spent five years as the silent partner in his rise, the hostess who remembered every business contact, the wife who understood his tells better than his own board.
That knowledge was a weapon. And Lucas Black would pay for weapons.
She opened her laptop, the one luxury Adrian hadn't thought to cancel yet. The job application stared back at her: standard fields asking for education, experience, and references. She had nothing to put there. No degree. No recent work history. Nothing but five years as Mrs. Adrian Steele.
So she would write her own rules.
In the "Relevant Experience" section, she didn't list previous jobs. Instead, she wrote a bullet-pointed analysis of Steele Industries' most vulnerable division, the European logistics arm Adrian had been trying to hide from his investors. She detailed the specific financial pressures, the weak management team, and the looming contract renewals that were ripe for poaching.
*Q2 revenue projections are overstated by 18% due to unresolved supply chain issues in the Frankfurt distribution center*, she typed, her fingers flying across the keyboard. *The senior VP of operations is facing three separate HR complaints that haven't yet reached the board.*
In the cover letter field, she typed three sentences:
*You need someone who understands your biggest competitor's operational flaws. I need a job. I have photographic memory of Steele Industries' last five quarterly reports and the strategic roadmap for the next three years.*
It was a nuclear option. She was handing a rival CEO the keys to destroy her husband's empire. The husband who had scheduled their child's termination.
Her finger hovered over the submit button. This was crossing a line from which there was no return. It was an act of war.
She thought of the baby booties in her pocket. She thought of the word *impediment*. She thought of Adrian's calm, clinical voice arranging the disposal of their future.
She clicked submit.
The confirmation screen loaded. *Application Received*. A wave of nausea followed by a surge of adrenaline left her dizzy. There was no going back now.
She expected to wait days, maybe forever. But within twenty minutes, her personal email dinged. Not an automated response. The sender address was simple: [email protected]
The subject line was blank.
The body contained only four words:
*Interview. Tomorrow. 8 AM.*
No greeting. No signature. No instructions. Just a command.
A shiver ran down her spine. It wasn't the reply of an HR manager. It was the reply of a predator who had seen bait he couldn't resist.
She spent the night in the motel room, practicing answers to questions he might ask. But at 3 AM, she realized she was preparing for the wrong battle. This wasn't about proving she could be a good employee. This was about proving she could be a valuable weapon.
The next morning, she put on the only business-appropriate outfit she had: a simple black dress she'd worn to one of Adrian's charity events. The fabric felt like a costume from another life.
The Blackwood Global building was everything Adrian's headquarters wasn't: all sharp angles, dark glass, and silent efficiency. The lobby was a cavern of polished black marble, so quiet she could hear her own heartbeat. A security guard directed her to the penthouse elevator without smiling.
The elevator opened directly into Lucas Black's office. No receptionist. No waiting area. Just a vast, minimalist space with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city. And him.
Lucas Black stood with his back to her, watching the morning traffic far below. He was taller than she expected, his shoulders broad under a perfectly tailored charcoal suit. When he turned, his eyes were the color of a winter sky: pale, sharp, and utterly assessing.
"Ms. Evans." His voice was deeper than she'd imagined, with a rough edge that sounded like it came from disuse. "You're early."
"Natalie," she corrected, her own voice sounding too small in the spacious room.
He gestured to a chair across from his desk. "Sit."
She sat, her knees trembling. He remained standing, circling her like a shark.
"Your application was... unconventional," he said, stopping behind her chair. She could feel his presence like a physical weight. "Most people submit resumes. You submitted corporate espionage."
"It's not espionage if it's from memory," she said, forcing her voice to stay steady.
He moved to face her, leaning against his desk. "Why would the wife of Adrian Steele want to help me destroy him?"
"Ex-wife," she corrected. "And he's trying to destroy me first."
Lucas's eyes narrowed slightly. "The pregnancy."
So he knew. Of course he knew.
"He thinks it's an impediment," she said, meeting his gaze directly. "I think it's motivation."
A faint, almost imperceptible smile touched his lips. "And what do you want from me, Natalie Evans?"
"A job. A chance. And a front-row seat when you take him down."
He studied her for a long moment, his gaze so intense she felt like he was seeing straight through to her bones. "I don't hire victims," he said finally. "I hire warriors. Are you a warrior, or are you just angry?"
The question hung in the air between them. She thought of the shattered lamp in the motel room, the rage that had filled her, the determination that had followed.
"I'm whatever I need to be," she said.
Lucas Black pushed off the desk and walked to the window. "The position requires complete loyalty. Your first assignment would be helping me acquire Steele Industries' shipping division. Using the information you provided."
The shipping division. The one Adrian had built from nothing. The crown jewel of his empire.
She didn't hesitate. "When do I start?"
He turned back to her, and for the first time, she saw something like respect in his cold eyes. "Monday. Eight AM. Don't be late."
He dismissed her with a nod. As she stood to leave, he added one final thing.
"Oh, and Natalie?" His voice stopped her at the elevator. "Welcome to the war."
The elevator doors closed, leaving her alone with the echo of his words. She had gotten the job. She had her weapon. But as the elevator descended, she couldn't shake the feeling that she'd just made a deal with the devil.