Cameron obeyed, perching on the edge of the chair, his muscles coiled tight. He said nothing, waiting. The man before him was a predator of a different species than Richard Reed. Richard was a wolf, snapping and posturing. Blackwood was a panther—silent, lethal, and in absolute control of his territory.
Blackwood rounded his desk but did not sit. He leaned against it, his arms crossed, his gaze fixed on Cameron. "You accessed a secured subdomain of Crestview University's server last Tuesday at 3:17 PM. Your query was for a Blackwood Group internal memorandum."
Cameron's mouth went dry. "I was researching their partnership. For a scholarship application." It was the truth, well half the truth.
"Through a backdoor security flaw," Blackwood stated. "A flaw my team patched twelve hours after your query triggered our alert. Your IP address traced to a public library. Your student ID was used to log into the computer terminal thirty minutes before the trigger." He paused, letting the evidence of his own authority and presence hang in the air. "Why?"
The question was a trap. He'll be caught if he lie. The full truth…I'm from the future and I'm using my future knowledge to escape my abusive family and find my real parents, and your name seemed like a useful shield…was impossible.
"I need to get into Crestview," Cameron said, choosing to speak half the truth. "It's my only possible exit strategy. The partnership with your company is their biggest selling point. I wanted to understand how real it was, beyond the marketing brochures and internet posts." He lifted his eyes, forcing himself to meet that icy gaze. "I didn't mean to trigger any security. I was just… digging."
"Digging," Blackwood repeated, the word neutral. "Most eighteen-year-olds digging for college information look at dorm photos and faculty lists. They don't attempt to pull up legal memoranda on multi-billion-dollar corporate partnerships."
"Most eighteen-year-olds aren't trying to escape their families with the ferocity of a hunted animal," Cameron said, the words slipping out before he could censor them, sharpened by weeks of fear and desperation.
A flicker of something…interest, perhaps…passed through Blackwood's eyes. It was gone in an instant. He pushed off the desk and walked to a sideboard, pouring a glass of water. He didn't offer one to Cameron.
"The Reeds," Blackwood said, as if consulting an internal file. "Richard Reed. Moderate holdings in commercial real estate. Aggressive, not particularly ethical. Social climber. His daughter, Chloe, is a… minor socialite with theatrical aspirations." He turned, glass in hand. "And you. The adopted son. Quiet. Unremarkable academic record…until very recently. No social media presence. No notable friends." He took a sip. "And now, suddenly, a compelling interest in firewalls and corporate contracts."
Cameron felt laid bare, each fact a stamp on his old soul in his young body. "People can change," he muttered, looking down at his worn sneakers on the immaculate rug.
"Under sufficient pressure, they can," Blackwood agreed. He set the glass down. "You used my company's name to deflect your father from Astor University. A calculated risk. And now you've tripped a wire in my own network. You have a habit of invoking forces you don't understand, Cameron Reed."
The use of his full name felt like a brand. "I understand they're powerful," Cameron said, his voice low. "That's the point."
Silence stretched, thick and heavy. Blackwood studied him again, and this time, Cameron had the distinct impression the man was seeing past the clothes, past the youthful face, to the raw, jagged edges of the trauma beneath. He was assessing a specimen, but for what purpose, Cameron couldn't guess.
"What do you want from Crestview?" Blackwood asked finally. "Not the scholarship. The real goal."
Cameron's heart hammered. This was it. He could give a safe answer: A good job. Independence. Or he could gamble another piece of truth. He thought of his last dying thought, the question that had brought him back here.
"I want to find something," he said, the words barely audible. "Answers. About where I came from. Crestview… it's away from here. It's a place where I can start looking without being watched." He dared a glance up. "Your security found me in a library. In my own home, I'm under a different kind of surveillance. I just need… a starting point that isn't there."
Aaron Blackwood said nothing for a long moment. The hum of the climate control was the only sound. Cameron felt like he'd just thrown his fragile, secret hope onto this giant's desk like a worthless pebble.
Then, Blackwood moved. He walked back to his desk, opened a drawer, and pulled out a plain, thick card. It was a business card, but it bore only a phone number, laser-etched into black stock.
"My direct security liaison," Blackwood said, holding it out. "If your… research… leads you to encounter other systems you shouldn't, you will contact him before you trigger them. He will advise on legal pathways or tell you to desist. You do not have my permission to probe my networks, but you have piqued my interest. Consider this a one-time intervention."
Cameron stared at the card, stunned. It wasn't help. It was a leash, a way to monitor his future digging. But it was also an acknowledgment, however cold, that his desperation had been seen. He took the card. It felt heavy.
"You will not mention this meeting to anyone," Blackwood continued, his tone leaving no room for doubt. "Your scholarship application to Crestview will be assessed on its own merits. I do not involve myself in university admissions for wayward teenagers with no idea of operational security."
The dismissal was clear. Cameron stood, the card clutched tightly in his damp hand. He was being released from the lion's den, unharmed but forever marked.
"Thank you," he said, the words automatic.
Blackwood had already turned back to his window, his posture dismissing Cameron from his world as easily as he'd been summoned into it. "See yourself out."
The suited man was waiting in the antechamber. The silent elevator ride down, the ride back in the black sedan, it all passed in a blur. He was dropped off two blocks from the Reed mansion, as quietly as he'd been picked up.
Standing on the familiar, sun-drenched sidewalk, the ordinary sounds of the morning felt surreal. In his pocket, the black card seemed to burn against his thigh. He had walked into the heart of power and walked back out. He had been seen by Aaron Blackwood, and he had, fortunately or unfortunately, been given a thread…a fragile, monitored thread…to hold onto.
He hadn't found any answers about his past. But he had made contact with a power that could, perhaps, one day lead him to them. The game had just become infinitely more complex, and the most dangerous player had just entered the room, and he has no clue what his motives are.
Cameron took a deep, shuddering breath of free air and began the walk home, the ghost of a winter-gray gaze following him every step of the way.