The rain had been relentless for three days straight.
Brittany Verdan sat at her tiny kitchen table, the cold glow of her laptop illuminating her face. Outside, thunder rumbled across the skyline — that dazzling city of glass and ambition that had taken so much from her.
At the center of it all loomed the WrenTech Tower, a symbol of power.
And deceit.
She typed slowly, her fingers shaking — not out of fear, but from the excitement of what she was about to do.
Education: Stanford University — Data Analysis & Systems Engineering.
Experience: Senior Executive Assistant, Helix Industries.
Special Skills: Confidential data handling, project coordination, NDA management.
Every bit of it… a lie.
The real Brittany Verdan had graduated from a small state college, juggled odd jobs, and barely managed to pay rent each month. But the woman on this résumé — the one she was crafting tonight — was precisely the kind of candidate Damien Wren, billionaire CEO and the architect of her father's downfall, would want to hire.
She leaned back, gazing at the fabricated document.
"Let's see if you recognize me now," she murmured.
Her heart raced as she attached her new résumé to an application form she'd unearthed in a forgotten corner of the WrenTech careers page — Executive Assistant to the CEO.
No one had been able to get close to Damien Wren in years.
He avoided events, shunned interviews, and never appeared in public without layers of security. But his assistant? That person would have access — to files, meetings, systems… maybe even his secrets.
And Brittany had one goal.
To uncover the truth about what really happened to her father, Eugene Verdan, the man who had died trying to save Damien's wife from the collapse a decade ago.
She hit send.
The email vanished into the void.
Then she sat there, frozen — the only sound was the rain tapping against her window like impatient fingers.
One week went by before the reply finally arrived.
Brittany felt a tightness in her throat. She read the message over and over, struggling to catch her breath.
She had done it. She was actually going inside.
On the morning of the interview, she slipped into her best thrift-store suit — a crisp white shirt paired with a dark gray blazer, her hair neatly pulled back into a smooth bun. Her reflection in the mirror looked calm, but her hands shook as she adjusted her collar.
Brittany Verdan—her real name—was buried alongside her father, Dr. Adrian Verdan, the man who lost his life trying to save Damien's wife.
"Relax," a voice chimed in her earpiece. "The system checks are all clear. You're officially Brittany Taylor, a Columbia grad with five years of corporate experience and a spotless record."
She offered a faint smile. "You sound pretty pleased with yourself, Noah."
"Pleased? I'm a genius," he replied. "No one's going to trace this back to you. I've cleaned up your digital footprint so well that you could stroll into the FBI and they'd just offer you a coffee."
"Let's hope Damien Wren isn't the one serving it," she muttered, adjusting her blazer.
Noah chuckled softly. "You sure about this, Britt? The guy's ruthless. No one lasts more than a month working for him."
"I'm not here to stick around," she said quietly. "I'm here to uncover the truth."
The lobby of WrenTech was intimidating in its perfection—marble floors, mirrored walls, and a faint scent of power in the air.
Brittany handed her ID to the receptionist, her pulse quickening as the scanner blinked green. Her forged identity passed.
One step closer.
Moments later, she found herself face-to-face with Damien Wren—the billionaire CEO.
He was taller than she had anticipated. Sharp. Controlled. The kind of man whose silence spoke volumes.
His gray eyes lifted from her resume. "Brittany Taylor," he said. "You have quite an impressive background."
"Thank you, sir."
"You worked with Harlow Dynamics?"
"Yes," she replied smoothly, lying. "Project coordination."
He scrutinized her for a beat too long. "Interesting. I know the CEO there. I don't recall your name."
Her breath hitched, but she managed a polite smile. "It was a short-term contract. You probably wouldn't remember."
For a moment, his gaze lingered, as if weighing something unspoken. Then he set the file down.
"WrenTech isn't for the faint-hearted," he said. "We don't tolerate mistakes, and we don't forgive weakness."
"I can handle pressure," she said softly.
He glanced at her briefly "We'll see about that."
"Fine. You start tomorrow. Assistant to the CEO."
As Brittany left the office, her legs nearly buckled in the hallway. She felt a mix of exhilaration and dread.
Noah's voice crackled through the earpiece once more. "Are you in?"
"I'm in," she said.
"Then it begins," he replied softly. "Just remember, Britt—don't let him see you. Not really. Not until we figure out what he did."
She nodded to herself, quietly repeating the name she could no longer say out loud.
"Don't worry, Dad. I'll get to the bottom of what happened."