Elara's POV
The new Kórvacs company lobby is massive.
Glass walls stretch endlessly upward, marble floors polished, chandeliers hanging and blinding every eye. Everything about the building screams excess.
Noemi gasps beside me.
"Oh my God," she says, spinning in a slow circle. "Elara, this place is insane. INSANE. This is the kind of company people sell their souls to work in."
I glance around once, unimpressed.
"Really?" I murmur. "How nice."
She doesn't hear the sarcasm. I purse my lips because I know exactly why this place exists. This building wasn't constructed for business. It was built for ego.
Anya's ego.
My sister always loved excess. Loved being seen and loved proving she belonged in rooms she had no business standing in. Of course the Kòrvacs would build something like this for her. A monument to power and possession.
But I applied anyway because it was perfect.
Before I left that life, and disappeared into another country, I knew one thing: the Kòrvacs wanted a marriage contract with the Virellis. And Anya, sweet, cruel Anya had married the Don himself.
Lucien Kòrvac.
While Noemi gushes about floor-to-ceiling windows and executive elevators, I smile to myself.
"Indeed," I say. "It's perfect."
~ ~
The interview room is even colder than the lobby.
Four people sit across from me. Two women and two men.
One of them doesn't need an introduction. Everyone in the country already knew who Lucien Kòrvac. was. If you didn't, then you were just born or...you're dead.
Publicly, he is a worldwide CEO, billionaire, visionary and public icon. But privately, Don of a Mafia dynasty.
I recognize him instantly. I mean, he has the kind of presence that doesn't need to announce itself to dominate a room. And fucking hell, he is handsome.
He doesn't look at me, not really. His gaze skims me for barely three seconds before shifting away, as though I'm as interesting as a sock.
That infuriates me more than it should.
I straighten my spine.
I'm here for the Sales Manager position, and my résumé is flawless. The years of experience, metrics that speak louder than charm and results that can't be argued with.
All they needed now was my oral professionalism.
The questions come quickly and I answer calmly, precisely and wisely. I watch the panel exchange glances and know they are impressed. Maybe, engaged.
I had already hacked into their system to know what questions to be expected and prepared for them. I know it was cheating but this world is full of evil people.
Lucien, being one of top, married to my dear, beloved sister. Of course, I'd do anything to get into their company and infiltrate it.
The man in question just remains silent, detached and uninterested. I have no problem, if anything I was satisfied that he didn't acknowledge me until the last question.
"Alright," one of the women says, smiling politely. "One final question."
"Our European expansion is underperforming. Revenue is stable, but client retention dropped 17% in six months. Marketing says pricing and finance says logistics. But I don't care who's right. If I gave you ninety days, what would you fix first?"
All of them look at me, expectant. This wasn't part of the questions I saw in my computer so I knew it was just produced. I twist my lips. I wasn't dumb, I just preferred working smarter. I calmly inhale and answer,
"None of those."
Lucien looks up, they exchange looks. Of course, they wanted me to pick a side so I do the honour of explaining.
"You don't have a pricing problem. You have a trust gap. Your sales cycle is too short for your product value, and your representatives are closing deals before relationships form. Clients don't leave because it's expensive, they leave because they feel sold to, not partnered with."
A pause.
"I'd slow the process down."
They start murmuring. That's an insane answer but I and they knew it works.
"Slower means less revenue." I look to Lucien who replies. His voice seems so familiar but I brush it off. All of them were the same.
I nod. "Only short-term. In six months, your referrals double and your churn halves. Right now, you're winning contracts but you're losing loyalty."
"If you're wrong, it's on you..." He looks down at the paper he was holding, his eyes cold and indifferent. "Solis."
I shrug a bit, "I wouldn't have answered if I wasn't so sure."
"Where did you learn that?" he leans forward and I roll my eyes mentally. Why do people keep asking where I learned stuff? Just because I was a single mother still in college, working as a librarian and surviving on coffee didn't mean I was stupid.
Granted, most of my knowledge came from the dark deals I did for Matteo but I read and researched a lot. It annoyed me when people underestimate me.
Better that than being walked over.
"I study a lot," I say smoothly. "And I'm good at what I do. Not to brag."
"And yet," he replies flatly, "here you are, doing just that."
I bite my tongue, hard. How childish.
Instead of snapping, I laugh lightly, like he's made the funniest joke on the planet. He narrows his eyes, studying me. Finally he says, dismissively.
"You'll do."
You'll do?!
Like I'm a chair or…or something he picked off a shelf to fill space in his palace.
Tch, Anya truly was his perfect match.
~ ~
I resume work the following week.
And immediately, I begin. I don't waste any precious time. The faster, the better.
I move through the company like a quiet storm. Redirecting resources, reassigning budgets, and dissolving contracts under the guise of restructuring.
Their money disappears and information leaks. Partnerships crumble and no one suspects a thing.
Because I'm excellent at my job.
I lead flawlessly, my team respects me and I deliver results just enough to keep the company standing while still bleeding it.
I was aware people called me stoic, controlled and upright. But at least, I was efficient.
In short, I came here to infiltrate and bring the company to the ground but I did it slowly.
During one meeting, I pass by a group of coworkers whispering near the glass corridor.
"They say the CEO's furious," one of them murmurs.
"Someone's been leaking information," another adds. "Stealing big amounts of money and the person hasn't been caught."
I smile inwardly. How sweet. Perhaps, he wasn't as efficient as I thought he would be. Any powerful Don would've caught the amateur stealing from his comapny.
I almost laugh at the absurdity. Except I wasn't an amateur. I was the best hacker and cyber criminal I knew. Online, I was known as Viper. I didn't call myself that. They did.
I inhale slowly, and plaster a fake smile on my face.
"How about instead of worrying about useless gossip, you work hard enough that the money being stolen is nothing but a speck of dust."
They scurry away without a word and I scoff.
Humans.
~ ~
Three weeks later
Rain crashes against the glass and I frown. My car chose today of all days to betray me, sputtering once before dying completely in the parking lot. Camilla is out of town, so unreachable. It's the most frustrating day I've had in weeks. And so, I stand by the window, phone pressed to my ear, watching the city blur under sheets of rain.
"Please," I tell Noemi, keeping my voice even. "Just pick Asher up from school. I'll owe you."
There's a dramatic sigh on the other end. "Elara, you'll owe me big time. BIG. It's raining like the heavens are angry."
"I'll buy you dinner for a month."
She replies almost immediately. "Say less. I'm on my way."
I end the call, exhaling softly.
The office is almost empty now so I'm surprised when I hear a voice too close.
"You don't look like someone who's married."
I turn slowly, forcing my expression into something neutral and polite. Lucien Kòrvac stands beside me, hands in his pockets and suit immaculate.
"You don't even act like a mother," he adds coolly.
I force a smile so tight it almost hurts.
"Season's greetings, boss."
He arches a brow. "It's the middle of May."
I lift two fingers in a lazy salute. "I am joyous and filled with festivities all year round."
For a second, I think I see something flicker across his face; amusement, maybe irritation. But then it's gone.
"I didn't see 'married' in your status," he says, eyes dropping briefly to my hand to see it bare. "Or 'widowed.'"
I follow his gaze before looking back up.
"My husband's dead," I lie easily. "Been dead for five years."
I don't know what to expect. Sympathy, discomfort, even an awkward apology.
But Lucien gives me none of that. He just grunts, unimpressed, and turns to leave.
Something in me snaps.
"How's your wife?" I ask instinctively. Why did my mouth always move before my mind could catch up?
He pauses and slowly turns back.
"What do you mean?"
I shrug, light and careless. "As handsome as you are, boss, you don't expect me to believe you aren't married."
I grin so wide and outrageous. He visibly recoils, making me want to laugh at the ridiculousness.
"I'm not," he says flatly. "Solis."
Then he walks away.
I stare after him, my jaw tightening. Liar.
That night, his words won't leave me alone.
I tuck Asher into bed, kiss his forehead, wait until his breathing evens out and open my laptop.
Lucien Kòrvac might've lied. Hell, everyone lies.
But the computer never lies.
And when the truth finally loads onto my screen, my breath catches.
"What the actual fuck…?"