The next morning, she found a note clipped to her desk.
Zara Winters — CEO's Office. 9:00 AM.
No explanation. No signature.
Just a time stamp that ticked like a fuse.
She took the elevator alone. Twenty-ninth floor. Top of the tower.
The doors opened to a minimalist space—black marble floors, wide glass windows, and silence thick enough to suffocate.
Lucien Vale stood behind his desk, back turned, staring at the skyline like he owned it.
He probably did.
"You called for me?" she asked.
He turned.
His eyes were unreadable. But sharp. Always sharp.
"You impressed someone," he said.
She didn't flinch. "I tend to do that."
A pause.
"I need an interim liaison for an off-site acquisition. Your name was... suggested."
Zara blinked. Slowly.
"Why me?"
He stepped around the desk, each movement quiet and deliberate.
"Because you listen. You observe. And I have a feeling you understand leverage."
Zara met his gaze.
"I understand a lot of things, Mr. Vale."
Another silence.
Then he slid a folder toward her.
"Tomorrow. 7 AM. You'll fly with me to Zurich. Wear something sharp."
She didn't take the folder immediately.
Because she already knew: this wasn't a promotion.
It was a test.
And if she passed?
She'd be closer to the man who destroyed her father—and the empire built on ashes that used to be her crown.