Chapter 3 - Inside the Pinehaven FortressThe black SUV idling outside the Grand Timber Lodge was an armored fortress on wheels.
When Nathaniel opened the door for me, I hesitated for a fraction of a second. The cold wind bit at my bare legs beneath the sapphire dress, reminding me that if I walked away now, I had nowhere to go. My apartment lease was tied to Blackridge Timber, my car had a blown head gasket waiting to happen, and my pride had been smashed into a million jagged pieces back in that ballroom.
I slid into the back seat.
Nathaniel climbed in beside me, pulling the heavy door shut with a solid, reassuring thud. The interior smelled of leather, rain, and faint traces of pipe tobacco. A privacy partition slid up between us and the driver with a low, pneumatic hum, plunging the back of the vehicle into a private, shadowed sanctuary.
“Where are we going?” I asked, pulling his coat tighter around my shoulders.
“My estate outside Jackson,” Nathaniel replied, his voice calm as he rested his forearm across his knee. “Pine Ridge Manor. You aren't going back to that laundromat apartment tonight, Emma. Blackridge security teams monitor all corporate-affiliated housing within city limits. If you went back there now, Daniel or Holloway’s men would be knocking on your door by sunrise to confiscate your files.”
“Files?” I blinked, staring at him in the dim light. “What files? I’m just a payroll clerk. I enter hours, check tax withholdings, and print out ledger sheets.”
Nathaniel gave a dry, humorless chuckle.
“Emma, for the past eleven months, you didn't just enter payroll hours,” he said, turning his head to look at me directly. “You audited the subcontractor disbursements for the North Timber expansion project. You noticed a discrepancy of 4.2 million dollars funneled through three shell companies registered in Delaware.”
My blood ran cold.
I pressed my back against the leather seat, my eyes widening. “How... how could you possibly know that? That audit was encrypted on the internal Blackridge server!”
“Blackridge security is built on old money and arrogance,” Nathaniel said smoothly. “They assume nobody at the bottom of the ladder knows how to read between the lines. But you noticed. And for the past six weeks, Daniel Reeves didn't visit your desk because he liked your coffee. He visited your desk because Grant Holloway ordered him to romance you, distract you, and find out whether you had backed up those audit files to an external drive.”
The words hit me like a physical blow.
All of it—the late-night texts, the shared coffees, the kiss beneath the fire escape, the lingering smiles—it wasn't love. It wasn't even an accidental romance. It was a corporate espionage assignment designed to neutralize a girl from payroll who happened to be too smart for her own good.
And then, at midnight, when they thought I was safely blinded by affection, they humiliated me in front of three hundred people to prove a point about power.
Tears—hot, furious, and long overdue—finally broke free, spilling over my eyelashes and running down my cheeks. I didn't try to wipe them away. I let them fall, shaking with a rage so profound it felt like fire in my chest.
“They used me,” I whispered, my voice cracking. “Every single minute of it was a lie.”
Nathaniel didn't offer empty platitudes. He didn't tell me it was going to be okay, or that men were stupid.
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Instead, he reached across the console, his large, warm hand gently gripping my shoulder, pulling me slightly toward him so my head rested against the heavy wool of his shirt.
“No, Emma,” Nathaniel said, his voice deep, steady, and vibrating with absolute resolve. “They played a dangerous game with someone they thought was weak. Now, we’re going to teach them what happens when you wake up a sleeping bear.”
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