The leather chair felt like it was made of needles. Daniella sat rigid, her hands clasped on the table to hide their shaking.

Crockett opened the folder she had provided. His fingers were long, elegant. Daniella watched them flip the page, and an unwanted memory of those fingers on her skin flashed through her mind. She bit the inside of her cheek.

"Back to the point," Crockett said, tapping the paper. "Your factory is bordering on bankruptcy. Why should I pour water into a leaking bucket?"

Daniella took a breath. She forced herself to look at his tie, not his eyes. "Because we have the best skilled labor in the borough. If we can just-"

She reached for her own copy of the file. Her elbow knocked her purse. It tipped over.

A single piece of paper fluttered out. It drifted through the air and landed on the carpet, right at Crockett's feet.

They both looked.

It was the printout of her self-documented injury report. The itemized list was clear: Digital Photographs - Soft Tissue Contusion, Dated.

Daniella lunged for it.

Crockett was faster. He snatched the paper up.

He read it. His expression shifted. The smirk vanished, replaced by something darker.

"Soft tissue contusion?" He read the words out loud. His eyes snapped to her wrist, where the faint yellow bruise from Xander was visible under her sleeve.

"It's none of your business," Daniella said, snatching the paper from him. She crumpled it into a ball.

"If I caused that..." Crockett started, his voice devoid of emotion, "I will cover the medical costs."

"It wasn't you!" Daniella snapped. Her face was burning. "It's old."

He ignored her, his gaze calculating. "A prudent choice, documenting it yourself. But Yates's uncle is the DA. This report is useless without leverage."

Daniella felt a sharp sting in her chest. To him, her assault was just another piece on a chessboard. An accounting error.

"Mr. Blackburn, can we stick to business?" she hissed.

"This is business," he said. He stood up. He walked around the long table.

Daniella wanted to run, but she was glued to the chair.

He stopped behind her. He placed his hands on the armrests of her chair, boxing her in. She could smell him-cedar and power.

"You want this money, Miss Diaz. But I see no collateral."

He leaned down. His breath ghosted over her ear.

"The land is frozen by the bank," he whispered. "What do you have left? I know about the encrypted ledger you took when you broke your NDA. That is the only asset you possess that interests me."

Daniella's spine stiffened. She stood up abruptly, shoving the chair back. It hit his legs, but he didn't budge.

She turned to face him, inches apart. "If you think I'm going to trade my only insurance policy for a loan, you are mistaken."

She waited for him to get angry. To throw her out.

Instead, the darkness in his eyes cleared. He looked... impressed.

"Good," he said. He straightened his tie. "I don't do business with fools. You passed."

Daniella blinked. "What?"

"If you had handed it over, security would be escorting you out right now." He walked back to his chair and sat down. "Now. Let's talk about the real terms."

Daniella felt like she had whiplash. The man was a psychopath.

"What terms?" she asked warily.

"I want 51% controlling interest in Diaz Manufacturing," he said. "And I want you."

"Excuse me?"

"As my personal legal counsel," he clarified. "You're a former Senior Counsel. You know the law, but you're hungry enough to bend it. I need that."

"Why me?"

"Because you hate Xander Yates," Crockett said. "And his backer, Inga Andrews, is a mutual problem. I have a use for that hate."

Daniella stared at the contract. It was fifty pages thick.

"51%?" she said. "That's a hostile takeover. I'm giving you my family's legacy."

"You can refuse," Crockett said, checking his watch. "Yates's lawyers will file for liquidation of your factory in about two hours."

Daniella tasted blood. She had bitten her lip too hard. He was right. She had no choice.

She flipped to the back. "Personal Counsel. What does that entail?"

"Managing my personal assets. My trust. And cleaning up... messes," he said. "Like Yates."

He was dangling bait. He was offering her a weapon.

Daniella picked up the pen. Her hand hovered over the signature line.

"One condition," she said. "The ledger stays with me, in escrow with a third party. It is released to you only upon the successful execution of this contract, or to the SEC upon my death."

Crockett let out a short, dry laugh. "Relax. I have a strict policy against sleeping with employees. That night... predated your employment."

Daniella signed. The ink looked black and permanent. She felt like she had just sold her soul.

The door burst open.

Arthur looked panicked. "Sir, Mr. Sterling is here. He says it's urgent."

"Let him in," Crockett said, taking the contract.

Zack Sterling, the VP of Investments, stormed in. He was holding a tablet. "Crockett, you cannot sign the Diaz deal! The risk algorithm shows it's a black hole!"

Zack stopped when he saw Daniella. He sneered. "Oh. It's you. The girl who got kicked out of the Gala."

Daniella went pale.

"Watch your tone, Zack," Crockett said. His voice was quiet, but it cut through the room like a knife. "She is my new Legal Counsel."

Zack looked like he had been slapped. "Are you insane? Her ex's uncle is investigating every dollar she touches!"

"Let him investigate," Crockett stood up. He loomed over the desk. "Tell the DA that Diaz is now a Blackburn asset."

Daniella looked up at him. Her heart skipped a beat. It was a business move, she knew that. But hearing him claim her-claim the company-felt like protection.

"Fine," Zack said, tight-lipped. "But I need to run a full background check."

"Wyatt is already doing it." Crockett waved a hand of dismissal. "Get out."

Zack glared at Daniella and left, slamming the door.

The room was quiet again.

"Don't misunderstand," Crockett said, catching her look. "I just protect my investments. Nobody touches what is mine."

"Understood, sir," Daniella said. The word 'mine' echoed in her head.

"Report to HR. Tomorrow morning at eight, I want a file on every illegal transaction the Yates family has made in the last ten years."

Daniella nodded. She turned to leave.

"Daniella."

She stopped. It was the first time he had used her name since the hotel room.

"Eat breakfast next time," he said, not looking up from his papers. "Your low blood sugar makes your logic sloppy."

Daniella felt a flush rise to her cheeks. She hurried out.

Crockett watched the door close. He picked up his phone and dialed Wyatt, his head of security.

"Find out who let Yates into the ballroom that night," he said. "And fire them."

It was dark when Daniella got back to the Bronx. She was carrying a box of onboarding documents.

The streetlights were out again. The building loomed like a grey tombstone.

She climbed the stairs. The motion-sensor light on the third floor flickered and died. She had to feel her way along the wall.

When she reached her door, she stopped. The wood around the lock was splintered.

Her heart hammered against her ribs. She put the box down slowly. She reached into her purse and gripped her pepper spray.

The door swung open from the inside.

Xander stood there. He was holding a can of beer. He looked at home.

"You're late, babe," he slurred. His eyes were glassy.

Daniella took a step back. "How did you get in? Get out!"

"I'm your fiancé," Xander said. He dangled a key-a spare she thought she had lost months ago. "I have a key."

He tossed the beer can aside. Foam splattered on her rug. He walked toward her.

"Heard you moved up in the world," he sneered. "Blackburn? Really? What does a guy like that want with damaged goods like you?"

Daniella raised the pepper spray. "I have the video, Xander. The police are filing charges."

He lunged.

He slapped the can out of her hand. It skittered across the floor.

Daniella screamed. They grappled in the narrow hallway. She knocked over a trash can.

He shoved her against the wall. His hands found her throat.

"Give me the drive!" he shouted, spit flying into her face. "What did that bastard give you?"

Black spots danced in Daniella's vision. She clawed at his face. Her nails dug into his cheek.

"Let her go!"

Mrs. Kowalski from downstairs was standing on the landing, wielding a broom. "I called 911!"

Xander froze. The mention of police penetrated his rage. He couldn't afford another arrest. Not now.

He let go. Daniella slid to the floor, gasping for air.

"You got lucky," Xander spat. He pointed a shaking finger at her. "Don't think Blackburn can protect you forever."

He shoved past Mrs. Kowalski and ran down the stairs.

Daniella coughed, clutching her throat. It burned.

"Oh, honey," Mrs. Kowalski said, helping her up. "You can't stay here. It's not safe."

Daniella nodded. She walked into her apartment.

It was destroyed. Her laptop was smashed on the floor. Her clothes were pulled from the closet and shredded.

Her sanctuary was gone.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket. An email.

From: Crockett Blackburn.

Subject: Meeting Prep.

Are the files ready for tomorrow?

Daniella stared at the name. A sob broke from her chest.

She wiped her eyes. She made a decision. She couldn't fight this alone.

She typed a reply.

Files are on the laptop. Laptop is destroyed. I need an advance on my salary. I need to move.

Five seconds later, her phone rang.

She answered.

"Don't move," Crockett's voice was ice cold. "I've had a surveillance team in your area since you became a person of interest. They'll be there in under five minutes."