Adrian Voss hated mirrors.
Not because of vanity.
But because every time he looked into one, he saw the face of a legacy he never asked for.
The boardroom of Voss International was silent.
Too silent.
Twenty powerful executives sat around the polished glass table, waiting for him to speak. Men and women who controlled markets, crushed competitors, and bent governments quietly in their favor.
And yet… they waited for him.
Adrian stood at the head of the table, suit immaculate, posture relaxed, expression unreadable. His dark eyes scanned the financial projections on the screen behind him.
"Revenue is up twelve percent this quarter," the CFO said nervously. "Primarily due to the healthcare acquisition."
Adrian nodded once. "And the lawsuit in Chicago?"
"Settled."
"Good."
Simple. Efficient. Cold.
That's how the world knew him.
What they didn't know was that every number on those reports, every acquisition, every settlement… all of it rested on the foundation his father had built with ruthless ambition.
Lucien Voss.
The same man whose shadow followed Adrian everywhere.
"Mr. Voss?" one board member cleared his throat. "The press has been asking questions again."
Adrian didn't look surprised. "About?"
"Your… personal life."
A faint flicker crossed his eyes.
"They're concerned about the image of the company moving forward. Stability. Legacy. Investors like reassurance."
Adrian knew what they meant.
They wanted him married.
A wife meant trust. Continuity. A future heir. A clean narrative.
"I'm not interested in being a marketing strategy," he said calmly.
Several executives shifted uncomfortably.
The oldest member of the board, Richard Hale, finally spoke. "Whether you're interested or not, perception matters. Especially with your father's history."
There it was.
Always his father.
Adrian's jaw tightened subtly.
"Say what you actually mean," he said quietly.
Hale met his gaze. "Lucien Voss made enemies. Dangerous ones. People who are still watching this family. A strong, respectable public image protects you."
Adrian held the man's stare for a long moment.
Then he turned toward the window overlooking the city skyline.
The empire.
His prison.
"Set up the charity gala," he said finally. "The one scheduled for next month."
A ripple of relief passed around the table.
"That will help your image significantly," Hale said. "The public loves—"
"I'm not doing this for them," Adrian cut in coldly. "I'm doing it because I want to know who's watching."
The room went still.
Hale studied him carefully. "You suspect something?"
Adrian's reflection stared back at him faintly in the glass.
"Yes."
Across the City
Amara stood on the balcony of her tiny apartment, phone pressed to her ear.
"Are you sure it's him?" she asked quietly.
"Yes," her contact confirmed. "Adrian Voss. Only son. He's taking over full control of Voss International."
Amara's fingers curled around the railing.
Seven years.
Seven years of waiting, working, rebuilding.
Seven years of turning pain into precision.
"And his schedule?" she asked.
"Public appearance at a charity gala in three weeks."
A slow, dangerous thought formed in her mind.
A place where powerful people gathered.
A place where masks were worn.
A place where a woman like her could disappear into the crowd… or make an unforgettable impression.
"Send me the details," she said.
She ended the call and stared out at the city lights.
Somewhere out there, the son of the man who destroyed her life was living comfortably, breathing easily, untouched by the consequences of his father's sins.
Did he deserve to suffer too?
She didn't know yet.
But she intended to find out.
Amara walked back inside and opened her laptop. The screen glowed to life, revealing a carefully constructed digital identity.
Different name.
Different background.
Different face to the world.
But behind it all… her eyes remained the same.
Focused. Controlled. Unforgiving.
She typed a new entry into her private journal:
"Phase One begins.
Adrian Voss will notice me.
He will trust me.
And when the time is right…
He will feel everything my father felt."
Her fingers paused over the keyboard.
A flicker of doubt brushed her chest.
What if he wasn't like his father?
The thought irritated her.
It didn't matter.
Or at least… she told herself it didn't.
Outside, the city continued its restless hum, unaware that two lives were slowly, inevitably being pulled toward each other.
Toward collision.
Toward truth.
Toward something neither of them could control.