Brittany's first official day at WrenTech felt like stepping into a whole new universe. Every corner sparkled with meticulous detail — the walls, the glass, and even the people. Assistants moved with the precision of a well-oiled machine, each one fully aware of their role in the billionaire's grand empire.
But Brittany's role? That was still a bit of a mystery.
Damien Wren's executive floor was like a soundproof fortress. When she arrived, the man himself barely acknowledged her presence, simply gesturing toward a desk just outside his office.
"Ms Leona will be with you shortly "
His voice was low and steady, carrying the kind of authority that came from years of being in charge.
Brittany sat down, forcing her face into a mask of professionalism, even as her heart raced in her chest. She could feel the hum of the air-conditioning and catch a whiff of cedar and smoke — his scent.
Her first few hours were spent shadowing his current assistant, a polished woman named Leona, who spoke in short, clipped sentences and avoided making eye contact.
"Mr. Wren isn't fond of personal questions," Leona cautioned. "He doesn't tolerate delays or excuses. Keep your phone on silent, your answers short, and your head down. That way, you'll last longer."
Brittany nodded, but her thoughts were elsewhere. They were on the encrypted folders she had caught a glimpse of on his private drive while Leona was giving her a tour of the system — folders labeled ARCHIVE_22, PROJECT REBUILD, and one with a single, chilling name: VERDAN_REPORT.
Her heart raced. It couldn't just be a coincidence.
She had to get access.
She had been pretending to work late, going through documents from a research project as the office emptied and the city lights twinkled like fireflies below, Brittany lingered, pretending to finish up data entries. Damien's door was slightly ajar, and his office was shrouded in darkness, save for the soft glow of his computer screen.
She hesitated for a moment, every instinct telling her to turn back. But curiosity, grief, and anger pushed her forward.
Her heart raced as she took a moment to gather her courage before plugging in her USB drive. But the moment she clicked on the file, the screen went dark.
Access Denied. Unauthorized Login.
She quickly pulled the drive out, her heart pounding — only to freeze in place when the office lights suddenly flickered on.
Damien lingered in the doorway, as quiet as a shadow.
"What are you doing here?" His voice was steady, but his eyes — sharp, gray, and menacing — radiated no warmth.
Chapter Three – The Warning
The silence in Damien's office was almost overwhelming.
Brittany could feel her heart racing against her ribs like a ticking time bomb. She turned slowly, caught in the intensity of his gaze — unreadable, sharp, and far too composed.
"I— I thought I heard something," she blurted out, the lie slipping from her lips before she could catch it. "I came to see if you were still here."
Damien didn't respond. He simply walked past her, his presence filling the room like a heavy weight. He reached his desk, closed the laptop with a purposeful click, and turned to face her.
"You heard something," he echoed, his voice low and skeptical.
"Yes. I wanted to make sure—"
"Don't." He moved in closer. "Don't lie."
"I made it clear that you're not to enter my office without permission."
Brittany lowered her gaze, her heart racing.
He stared at her for what felt like an eternity before finally breaking the silence, his voice low yet still carrying an air of menace. "Those who dig into things they don't fully grasp often find themselves buried alongside them."
She took a deep breath, her throat tight. "Got it."
"Good." He brushed past her, turning off the monitor. "You're clever, Ms. Taylor. Keep it that way."
As she stepped out of the room, she could sense his intense gaze on her back. What she didn't notice was the subtle smirk playing on his lips — and the faint glow of her forged name on the monitor screen.
Employee Profile: Brittany Taylor — Records Incomplete.
As the elevator doors closed behind her, she let out a shaky breath. He didn't believe her.
And yet… he had let her go.
From his office window, Damien observed her as she walked away. His reflection stared back at him in the rain-soaked glass — cold, composed, and filled with curiosity.
He tapped the edge of his desk, murmuring, "Verdan."
That name carried weight. It brought back pain and questions he thought he had buried a decade ago.
A faint smile crept onto his face — the first genuine smile he'd had in years.
"Let's find out what you're after, Ms. Taylor."