Maya's POV
My apartment was destroyed.
Furniture slashed. Photos scattered. And spray-painted across my wall in red:
STOP DIGGING OR DIE LIKE DADDY
That was three days ago.
Three days hiding at Reyna's. Three days of anonymous texts and threats. Three days of knowing someone wanted me dead.
Three days of not being able to stop thinking about Damien Cross and the way he'd looked at me in that study.
Keep her close.
My father's last words echoed in my head.
Which is why I was walking into Sinclair Global's boardroom uninvited, wearing my mother's old power suit and a plan that would either save me or get me killed.
All six heirs looked up as I entered mid-meeting.
Damien's eyes locked on mine immediately, and I saw the flash of relief before he masked it.
He's been worried about you.
Don't think about that. Don't let it matter.
You have no right to be here, Natasha said coldly.
I smiled like my heart wasn't racing. I'm not claiming rights. I'm making a proposal.
This should be entertaining. Marcus leaned back, amused.
I stayed standing while they sat—power move.
You have one year before you can vote on selling the company. One year to decide if you want to dismantle everything my parents built. I want that year too.
For what? Victoria asked carefully.
To work with each of you. Learn your divisions. Understand why my father trusted you with everything.
And why would we agree to that? Natasha's eyebrow lifted.
Because I have my mother's research notes. Files she kept separate from the company—insights that could help Dr. Chen's medical trials. My father's donor contacts in art and philanthropy—connections Marcus could use. And— I forced myself to look at Damien. —I want to understand why he chose all of you. What he saw in you that he didn't see in me.
The vulnerability was calculated. But it was also true.
I'll agree, Victoria said slowly, if the others do.
James nodded. The girl deserves to understand her father's choices.
Sophia spoke quietly: I'll agree. With conditions—no voting rights, no confidential access without approval.
Fine.
Marcus grinned. I'm in. This could be fun.
Natasha studied me like a puzzle. Yes. Let's see how this plays out.
Five votes yes.
One left.
Damien stood slowly, and every eye in the room turned to him.
This is a mistake, he said.
My stomach dropped.
You're outvoted, Marcus pointed out.
She's not here to learn. Damien's eyes stayed locked on mine. She's here to investigate. To get close to all of us until she figures out which one killed her father. This isn't about understanding. It's about revenge.
Silence fell like a guillotine.
Is he right? Victoria asked me quietly.
I could lie. Should lie.
But something in Damien's expression—the challenge, the dare, made me tell the truth.
Yes. I lifted my chin. He's right. My father was murdered. One of you did it. And I'm going to prove it.
Gasps around the table.
Then why would we agree to this? Natasha demanded.
Because if you refuse, you look guilty. And I'll make sure the media knows it. I'll fight every decision you make publicly, loudly, and I won't stop until I destroy you all. I met each of their eyes. Or you can agree. Let me investigate. Prove your innocence. Help me find the real killer, if it's not you.
This is insane, James said.
So was giving strangers my family's empire. I turned back to Damien. What's your vote?
He moved around the table toward me, and my heart rate spiked. He stopped close enough that I could see the gold flecks in his dark eyes.
I vote yes, he said quietly. On one condition.
What?
I'm assigned as your security detail. Wherever you go, whatever heir you're working with, I'm there. Watching. Protecting. Making sure nobody hurts you.
Why would you want that? I breathed.
His voice dropped so only I could hear: Because your father's last words were 'keep her close.' And I don't break promises. Even when the person I'm protecting thinks I'm a killer.
The air between us crackled.
Fine, I managed. You can shadow me.
Then we have a deal. He held out his hand.
I stared at it. If I shook his hand, I was agreeing to spend a year working alongside six suspects.
Including the one who made my heart race and my instincts scream danger in equal measure.
I took his hand.
The moment our palms touched, electricity shot up my arm. His fingers tightened around mine—warm, strong, possessive.
One year, he said softly. Try not to get yourself killed.
Try not to be the one who kills me.
Something dark and intense flashed in his eyes. Never. That's the one thing you can count on, Maya. I'll die before I let anyone—including myself—hurt you.
He released my hand, but I could still feel the warmth of his touch.
As the meeting ended and the heirs filed out, Damien lingered by the door.
Maya, he said quietly. The apartment break-in. The threats. It's escalating.
I know.
Move into a secure location. Let me protect you properly.
So you can watch me 24/7? No thanks.
So someone doesn't kill you in your sleep. His jaw clenched. Please.
The please broke something in me.
I'll think about it, I said.
He nodded and left.
My phone buzzed immediately.
Unknown number: Congratulations. You just agreed to put yourself in constant proximity to your father's killer. Bold strategy. Let's see if you survive it.
Another message:
Fair warning: Damien Cross is the most dangerous one. Not because he might be the killer. But because you're already falling for him. And when you realize the truth about him, it will destroy you worse than any murder could.
I stared at the words, my heart racing.
Was I falling for him?
No. Impossible.
He was a suspect. A possible killer. A man I absolutely could not trust.
But when I closed my eyes, I could still feel his hand in mine.
And I wanted to feel it again.
Which might be the most dangerous thing of all.