Rain battered the floor-to-ceiling windows, smearing the city lights into fractured streaks of gold and white.
Leila stared at the name on her laptop screen as if blinking might erase it from existence.
Six months of digging.
Three sources silenced, one after another.
An editor who wouldn't move without "smoking gun" proof.
And now this file.
One file powerful enough to bring down an empire.
The name at the top of the document felt heavier than it should have.
Adrian Blackwood.
Billionaire. Philanthropist. Media darling.
And according to the records in front of her… the architect of a sprawling web of money laundering and shadow transactions.
Her pulse pounded in her ears.
"If I publish this… there's no coming back."
Her phone vibrated.
Unknown number.
She declined the call.
A message appeared.
Who do you think you're playing with?
Cold crept through her veins. She hadn't spoken a word about this case to anyone. Not even her editor knew the suspect's real name.
Another message followed.
Look behind you.
Leila turned slowly.
The window was closed.
But in the glass… she saw him.
A tall silhouette standing directly behind her.
Before she could scream, a voice spoke—low, controlled.
"If I meant to hurt you… I wouldn't have waited."
Leila spun around.
He stood there in a dark coat, rain still clinging to the fabric. His hair was immaculate despite the storm outside. She had seen that face countless times in interviews and headlines.
Adrian Blackwood.
She stepped back sharply.
"How did you get in here?"
He didn't move toward her. Didn't need to.
"Doors open," he said calmly. "If you know how to ask."
Leila snapped her laptop shut and pulled it toward her chest.
"Get out of my apartment."
His gaze drifted briefly to the closed computer.
"You found something," he said. "Something you think is dangerous."
"I don't think so," she shot back. "I know it is."
He took one step closer—not aggressive, just certain.
"You found a name," he said. "Not the whole story."
Her voice trembled, but she held his stare.
"I have backups. In more than one place."
The corner of his mouth twitched faintly.
"That's what smart people say."
Then his tone darkened.
"But smarter people make sure no one dies because of them."
Her body went still.
"What are you implying?"
His eyes locked onto hers.
"You had three sources. One disappeared. One was in an accident. One left the city overnight.
Did you really believe that was random?"
"You did that," she whispered.
He didn't confirm it.
He didn't deny it.
The silence was worse.
"I'm not here to threaten you," he said at last. "I'm here to offer you a choice."
Leila let out a humorless laugh.
"Money?"
"No. An alternative."
"I'm not for sale."
A flicker of something unreadable crossed his expression.
"That's admirable," he said quietly. "And reckless."
"If there's truth here," she pressed, "why are you afraid of it?"
"I'm not afraid of the truth," he replied. "I'm afraid of people who think truth gives them permission to burn everything down."
"I just want to publish it."
"And after that?" His gaze sharpened.
"You think tomorrow you wake up and life continues as usual?"
She had no answer.
"You aren't writing an article," he said. "You're starting a war."
"Then why come yourself?" she demanded. "Why not send your men?"
For the first time, he hesitated.
"Because you're different."
He reached into his coat and placed a small flash drive on the table.
"The full file."
Leila stared at it.
"Why would you give me this?"
"You shouldn't trust me," he said quietly. "Not yet."
A sudden metallic click echoed from the front door.
Both of them froze.
Adrian's composure shifted instantly—every line of his body tightening with alert precision.
"Listen carefully," he murmured. "Do exactly what I say."
"Who is it?" she breathed.
"Someone I don't always control."
Footsteps outside.
He grabbed her wrist—not painfully, but firmly—and pulled her behind the sofa.
"Stay down. Stay silent."
The door handle turned.
The door opened.
A man stepped inside, something metallic glinting in his hand.
His voice carried no warmth.
"Mr. Blackwood… you're late."
Adrian stepped forward.
"Leave."
The man chuckled.
"That won't be happening."
His gaze shifted toward the sofa.
The distinct click of a weapon being readied filled the room.
"The girl," he said softly. "She belongs to us."
Adrian's jaw tightened.
"You just made a very big mistake."
End of Chapter One