Amelia stared at her computer screen, but the words blurred into meaningless shapes. Her thoughts kept circling back to the conversation she had overheard at the party—and the tension between Liam and Julian that no one else seemed to question. It wasn't just a rivalry. There was history there. And it wasn't only between them—it involved her too. She could feel it in her bones.
She wasn't one to snoop. But something about the way Liam had looked at her when he thought she wasn't paying attention… something about the silence that had fallen when she walked past that half-open office door… It gnawed at her. She couldn't shake the sense that she was missing something important.
So she did what any sensible woman wouldn't.
She started digging.
It began innocently—she typed Liam Blackthorne into a search engine during her lunch break. Most of the results were what she expected: glossy magazine articles, lists of New York's most eligible billionaires, interviews in Forbes, footage from charity galas and corporate summits.
But then she found a link buried deep in the fourth page of search results. A news article dated nearly fifteen years ago. The headline was blunt: "Tragedy Strikes Blackthorne Family: Parents of Young Heir Die in Mysterious Fire."
Amelia blinked at the screen.
She clicked on the article.
It wasn't long, just a few paragraphs. A fire had broken out in the Blackthorne family estate in Connecticut. The parents, Arthur and Miranda Blackthorne, had been trapped inside. No foul play had been confirmed, but suspicions surrounded the cause. Their only son, seventeen-year-old Liam, had been away at boarding school.
Amelia's chest tightened as she scrolled.
She hadn't known. No one ever mentioned it. Not in any corporate files, not in any of the glowing press releases.
A second article appeared in the "related stories" section—this one about a lawsuit. Something to do with an investment deal gone wrong between Blackthorne Corporation and Hale International, led by her father. She scanned the article quickly, her eyes catching on phrases like "asset manipulation," "accusations of deliberate sabotage," and "Hale's aggressive acquisition tactics."
Amelia pushed away from her desk, her hands trembling slightly.
No. This couldn't be real. Her father—he wasn't perfect, but he wasn't a monster. And Liam… he had never mentioned any of this. Was that why he had been so distant, so guarded? Was that why he seemed to have one foot in the present and the other rooted in something darker?
She stood up abruptly. She needed air.
Outside, the city buzzed around her like it always did, indifferent and chaotic. She leaned against the railing of the company's rooftop garden, breathing in deep.
"What are you doing up here?"
She turned, startled. Liam stood a few feet away, his jacket off, sleeves rolled up, the late afternoon sun casting golden shadows across his features.
"I could ask you the same," she said, masking her panic with a smile.
He shrugged. "Needed to think. But I suppose great minds think alike."
Their eyes met. For a long moment, neither of them said anything.
Amelia's heart pounded. She wanted to ask him everything. About the fire. About her father. About the buried rage she thought she saw in him sometimes—when he looked at her like she was both a puzzle and a weapon.
But she didn't ask. Not yet.
Instead, she said, "Do you ever feel like the past doesn't really stay in the past?"
Liam looked at her sharply. "All the time."
His voice was quiet, but there was a weight behind the words. A rawness that caught her off guard.
She took a step closer. "Can I ask you something personal?"
His jaw tightened, but he nodded.
"I read… something about your parents. I didn't know." Her voice dropped. "I'm sorry."
He looked away, his hands gripping the railing. "Most people don't. It's not exactly a story I tell at dinner parties."
"I didn't mean to intrude," she said softly. "It just… came up."
For a moment, she thought he wouldn't say anything. But then he exhaled, long and slow.
"I was seventeen," he said. "I had just come home for the weekend. We were supposed to go sailing. My mother had made reservations at some overpriced resort. My father hated boats, but he would've gone anyway. He always gave in to her."
Amelia stayed silent, letting him speak.
"That night… something happened. I wasn't there when the fire started. But I saw the smoke from the end of the road. I remember running. Screaming. The house was already gone by the time I got there."
She didn't realize she was crying until she felt the tear slip down her cheek.
"I'm so sorry," she whispered.
Liam turned to her. His eyes were unreadable. "It's not your fault."
But was it? Her father had been involved in whatever mess had followed. Had her family benefitted from the Blackthornes' downfall?
"Liam," she said hesitantly, "was my father… involved?"
His silence was louder than any answer.
Amelia's breath hitched.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
He looked at her then, truly looked at her. "Would it have made a difference?"
She didn't know what to say. Her chest ached with confusion, guilt, and something dangerously close to longing.
"I don't know," she admitted. "Maybe."
Liam stepped closer. He was inches from her now. She could smell his cologne, sharp and clean, feel the warmth radiating from him.
"I didn't tell you," he said slowly, "because I didn't want you to see me the way everyone else does. As a man built on revenge."
Her heart skipped a beat.
"Are you?"
His gaze dropped to her lips. "I don't know anymore."
The moment stretched between them, electric and fragile.
Then the rooftop door opened with a loud creak. Amelia jumped back instinctively.
One of the assistants poked her head out. "Mr. Blackthorne, Ms. Hale. The board meeting starts in ten."
Liam's expression shuttered instantly. "Thank you, we'll be right there."
The door closed again.
Neither of them moved.
Amelia cleared her throat. "I should go freshen up."
"Amelia—" he began, but she shook her head.
"Later," she said, and walked away.
As she stepped into the elevator, she caught her reflection in the mirrored wall. Her eyes were wide, her lips trembling. Her heart had never felt heavier.
And for the first time since starting this job, she wasn't sure if she wanted to know the whole truth.
Because she had a feeling it might destroy her.