Shadows of the Billionaire Chapter 3
Chapter 3: Secrets in the Shadows
The day had stretched long and mercilessly, and the hum of the city outside the skyscraper windows had grown quieter. Everyone else in the office had left hours ago, but Sophia remained at her desk, eyes glued to her computer screen. She told herself it was because she wanted to get ahead on her work, but the truth was she was waiting for an opportunity—waiting for Damien to leave his office.
Finally, she heard the unmistakable sound of his chair scraping back and the low rumble of his voice as he made a quick phone call. Moments later, the heavy double doors to his office swung shut, and his long, purposeful strides faded into silence.
Her heart raced as she stood, glancing around to make sure Ms. Harper or the cleaning crew weren’t lurking. The coast was clear. She slipped into Damien’s office and shut the door behind her, the weight of her actions pressing on her chest.
The room was as imposing as ever, but this time, it felt charged with secrecy. Her eyes darted to the sleek desk in the center of the space. As she approached, her fingers brushed over its cold surface.
"Locked drawers," she muttered under her breath, crouching to inspect the desk. Her father’s words echoed in her mind: "Damien Cole destroyed our family." If that was true, there had to be proof somewhere—and she was going to find it.
Her fingers trailed across the small lock on the center drawer. It was subtle but sturdy, meant to deter curious assistants or prying eyes. She hesitated. Breaking into it would cross a line, but wasn’t she already on the other side of right and wrong?
Taking a deep breath, she fished out a thin metal tool from her bag—one she’d impulsively picked up after watching a few too many YouTube videos about lock-picking.
The lock clicked open. Her chest tightened as she pulled the drawer out. Inside was a neatly organized set of files, but what caught her attention immediately was a photograph tucked into the corner. She froze, her breath catching in her throat as she lifted it.
It was a picture of her father and Damien.
The two men stood side by side, their expressions far from hostile. If anything, there was a strange camaraderie in their smiles. Her father had his arm slung casually over Damien’s shoulder, and Damien—much younger—looked almost... carefree.
Her head spun. This wasn’t what she had expected. Her father had painted Damien as a monster, the man who had stolen everything from their family. But this photo told a different story.
"What the hell is going on?" she whispered.
Before she could examine the rest of the contents, a sound from outside startled her. She quickly shoved the drawer shut, locking it again before slipping the photograph into her jacket pocket. Her heart pounded as she hurried back to her desk, just in time to see Damien re-enter the office.
He looked at her, his piercing gaze narrowing slightly. "Still here?"
Sophia swallowed hard, hoping her face didn’t betray her guilt. "I was finishing up the schedule for tomorrow. I didn’t want to leave it incomplete."
He didn’t respond immediately, his eyes lingering on her as if trying to read her thoughts. Finally, he nodded. "Good. I don’t tolerate half-measures."
"Of course," she said, forcing a polite smile.
Later that night, as she sat in her small apartment, Sophia studied the photograph under the dim light of her desk lamp. She couldn’t make sense of it. If her father and Damien had once been friends, what had gone so horribly wrong?
Her thoughts were interrupted by a sudden vibration from her phone. She frowned, picking it up to see a text from an unknown number.
"You’re playing a dangerous game, Sophia. Stay out of it."
Her blood ran cold. The words were like ice against her skin, each one heavy with menace. Who was this? How did they know what she was doing?
Her thoughts immediately went to Damien. Could he have found out? Was this his way of warning her off? But something about the message felt different. The tone wasn’t cold or calculated like Damien—it was personal, as if someone was watching her.
She stared at the screen, her mind racing. Whoever had sent this message, they knew about her mission. And if they knew that, what else did they know?
Meanwhile, in another part of the city, Damien sat in the back of his car, his expression unreadable as he read through a series of emails on his phone. One subject line caught his attention: "The past always comes back, doesn’t it?"
He opened the email, his jaw tightening as he scanned the message. It was short but packed a punch:
"You thought you buried the truth, but some secrets refuse to stay dead. Tick tock, Damien."
A surge of anger and unease coursed through him. He quickly forwarded the email to his private security team with a single instruction: "Find out who sent this. Immediately."
As the city lights blurred past the window, Damien leaned back in his seat, his mind slipping into memories he had worked so hard to suppress. Secrets. Lies. And now, someone was digging them up.
He didn’t know who was behind it, but he knew one thing for certain—whoever they were, they weren’t going to stop.
