Chapter 2 - The Woman Who Was Supposed To Be The Enemy
Emma barely slept.
Every sound in the mansion felt amplified.
A door closing.
Footsteps in the corridor.
The distant crackle of the storm.
At three in the morning, she finally gave up and went downstairs.
The kitchen was enormous but strangely empty.
She found tea and made herself a cup.
Then she noticed a light beneath a door at the end of the hallway.
Curious, she walked toward it.
Before she could knock, she heard voices.
Victor's.
And another man's.
"You should have killed him when you had the chance," the stranger said.
Victor's voice was cold.
"We don't kill people without knowing who they work for."
"You've become soft."
"No."
A pause.
"I've become careful."
Emma stepped backward.
The floor creaked.
Silence.
The door opened.
Victor stood there.
The other man disappeared through another entrance without a word.
Victor stared at Emma.
"What are you doing?"
"I couldn't sleep."
"You shouldn't be wandering the house."
"I wasn't aware I needed permission to get tea."
His jaw tightened.
"No."
He looked at her cup.
Then at her.
"Go back upstairs."
Emma refused.
"Who was that?"
"Someone who works for me."
"Why was he talking about killing someone?"
Victor stared at her.
"You heard too much."
She placed the cup on a side table.
"Then tell me something useful."
Victor's eyes narrowed.
"You ask a lot of questions."
"I was sold to a stranger. I think I'm entitled to a few."
For several seconds, he said nothing.
Then he stepped aside.
"Come in."
Emma hesitated.
But curiosity won.
The room was an office.
A wall of monitors displayed security feeds from the estate.
Victor closed the door.
"Three days ago, someone accessed confidential files connected to the Carter family."
Emma frowned.
"My family?"
"Yes."
"What files?"
"Your father's financial records."
She swallowed.
"Why?"
"Because someone is searching for something."
"What?"
"I don't know."
Victor walked to his desk.
"But I know someone is willing to kill for it."
Emma stared at the screens.
"Why would they come after me?"
"That's what I'm trying to determine."
"You make it sound like I know something."
"You might."
"I don't."
Victor studied her.
"I believe you."
Emma blinked.
That was not what she expected.
"Then why am I here?"
"Because you're the safest person for me to watch."
She almost laughed.
"Your idea of safety is terrifying."
He didn't disagree.
The next morning, Emma woke to shouting downstairs.
She hurried into the hallway.
Eleanor was arguing with a security officer.
"She needs to stay inside."
Emma frowned.
"What happened?"
Eleanor turned.
"Mr. Blackwood ordered that you not leave the property."
"Why?"
"Security concerns."
Emma marched downstairs.
Victor was in the foyer.
"I want to go home."
Victor looked at her.
"You don't have a home to return to."
The words hurt more than she expected.
"My parents are still there."
"They left the city."
Emma froze.
"What?"
Victor handed her a phone.
A news article was open.
Carter Industries had officially filed for bankruptcy.
Her father's property was being seized.
Her parents had disappeared.
Emma stared at the screen.
"They didn't even tell me."
"No."
Tears burned her eyes.
She refused to let them fall.
Victor watched quietly.
"You're free to hate them."
Emma looked up.
"I don't hate them."
"Why?"
"Because hate means I still expect something from them."
Victor's expression shifted.
He didn't know what to say.
For the first time, Emma saw the man behind the reputation.
He looked tired.
Not physically.
Emotionally.
As if he'd been fighting a war long after everyone else had gone home.
Over the next few days, Emma began exploring the estate.
Victor did not restrict her.
She could move through the main house.
She could use the library.
The gardens.
The indoor gym.
She could even access the kitchen.
But she could not leave.
Strangely, Victor never took advantage of her situation.
He did not demand affection.
He did not force intimacy.
Their arrangement remained formal.
At dinner, they spoke rarely.
Until one evening, Emma noticed an old photograph on a bookshelf.
Victor was younger.
Maybe twenty-five.
Standing beside Isabel.
They were laughing.
Emma stared at the picture.
Victor entered the room.
"You shouldn't look at that."
"Why?"
"Because it belongs to another life."
Emma touched the frame.
"She looks happy."
"She was."
"What was she like?"
Victor stared at the photograph.
"Brave."
Emma smiled faintly.
"That sounds familiar."
His eyes moved to her.
"What?"
"You've called me difficult four times this week."
"I didn't say brave."
"You don't have to."
For the first time, Victor almost smiled.
Almost.
The next day, something unexpected happened.
Emma found Eleanor crying in the kitchen.
She froze.
Eleanor wiped her face quickly.
"Are you all right?"
"I'm fine."
"You're not."
Eleanor sighed.
"Mr. Blackwood doesn't like anyone asking questions about the past."
"I'm beginning to notice."
Eleanor looked at her.
"You're not what he expected either."
Emma frowned.
"What does that mean?"
Eleanor hesitated.
"Victor has hated the Carter family for years."
"I know."
"But his hatred wasn't always about Isabel."
Emma's heartbeat quickened.
"What do you mean?"
Before Eleanor could answer, Victor appeared.
"Eleanor."
The older woman straightened.
"Sir."
Victor looked between them.
"Leave us."
Eleanor obeyed.
Emma crossed her arms.
"You knew she was telling me something."
Victor said nothing.
"What aren't you telling me?"
"Your family was not responsible for Isabel's death."
Emma stared at him.
"What?"
Victor stepped closer.
"My investigation led somewhere else."
"Where?"
"To someone inside your father's company."
Emma's mind raced.
"Who?"
"I don't know."
"Then why punish my family?"
Victor's expression hardened.
"Because when Isabel died, your father lied."
Emma's breath caught.
"Lied about what?"
"He claimed he knew nothing."
Victor looked toward the photograph.
"But he did."
Emma felt dizzy.
"Then why did you buy my father's debt?"
"Because I needed the Carter family close enough to watch."
"You could have just investigated them."
"They disappeared behind lawyers and corporate structures."
"You used me as bait."
Victor didn't deny it.
Emma stepped back.
"I hate you."
His face tightened.
"I know."
"No."
She shook her head.
"You don't know."
She turned and left.
That night, Victor found a folder outside his bedroom.
Emma had left it there.
Inside were notes.
Dates.
Names.
Old articles about Isabel's death.
She had spent hours investigating.
At the bottom was one sentence.
"If my father lied, I want to know why."
Victor stared at the words for a long time.
Then he picked up the phone.
"Bring me every file we have on the Carter investigation."
He paused.
"And protect Emma."
The person on the other end asked, "More guards?"
Victor looked toward the hallway.
"No."
His voice softened.
"Less visible."
Something had changed.
He no longer saw Emma as the daughter of his enemy.
May you like
He was beginning to see her as someone trapped inside the same mystery.
And perhaps, without realizing it, he had begun protecting the one person in the world who had every reason to hate him.
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