Chapter Seven: The Devil You Know

We didn’t speak for three full minutes.

Just stared at the screen, the last message from the mysterious O.M. pulsing like a warning:

If she becomes a problem, eliminate her.

The words hadn’t been sent from a burner account.

They’d come from a server inside Lennox Global.

And Killian had gone very, very quiet.

“Who is it?” I whispered.

He leaned back in his chair, gaze unfocused, as if he could see through the walls, back through time.

Then he said the name.

“Oriana Maddox.”

I blinked. “Your… legal counsel?”

He nodded once. “And shareholder. And oldest ally. She helped me build the company from the inside.”

“And she tried to have me killed.”

“I didn’t want to believe it. But O.M., it fits. She's the only one with the access, the motive… and the nerve.”

He pushed to his feet, pacing the floor like a caged storm.

“She warned me against bringing you in. Told me ‘pretty things don’t stay quiet.’ I thought she was just being her usual cold self.”

I stood, blood turning to ice. “So what now?”

Killian turned toward me, and the rage in his eyes wasn’t controlled anymore.

“We go to war.”

The next day, I walked into Lennox Global not as a temp, or an accessory, or a decoy fiancée, but as Killian’s shadow.

He made it official in front of the board.

“This is Ava Monroe,” he said. “She’s been promoted to Executive Advisor. All decisions go through her. Including merger evaluations.”

The board looked like they’d swallowed glass.

Oriana Maddox didn’t even blink. She wore a silver power suit, lips painted blood-red, a tablet in hand. Cold, elegant, unreadable.

“Charming,” she said, after the meeting. “Your new shadow wears heels.”

“I also bite,” I replied sweetly.

Her gaze cut like a scalpel.

Killian watched the exchange with veiled intensity. The game had begun, and Oriana knew it.

She just didn’t know how deep we were willing to go.

Back in his private office, Killian handed me a thick file labeled Maddox, Classified.

“These are internal notes, encrypted logs, deals she made behind my back,” he said. “We leak these, she burns.”

I flipped through pages. Shell companies, foreign accounts, NDA violations.

“But if we go public, the merger collapses,” I said.

“She’s counting on that.”

He sat across from me, hands steepled. “She thinks I won’t risk the company to stop her.”

“And will you?”

“I don’t know.”

We were both quiet for a moment.

Then I asked the question I’d been holding back since last night.

“Why didn’t you tell me you knew her plan sooner?”

He exhaled, eyes dropping to the floor.

“Because part of me still hoped she was loyal.”

I nodded. “And now?”

He looked at me. “Now I hope she’s afraid.”

That night, Killian and I stayed late.

The office building was nearly empty, just a skeleton crew and silence stretching down polished hallways.

At midnight, the intercom buzzed.

Killian pressed the button. “Yes?”

The voice on the other end was cool. Female.

“Check your inbox.”

Then nothing.

Killian froze. His computer pinged. An email from Oriana.

No subject. No body.

Just a video.

He played it.

The screen flickered to life. It was me.

Walking alone. Down the street last week. A red dot dancing over my chest.

Then...

A pause.

A frame of me looking up, startled.

Then the video stopped.

Nothing happened. But the message was clear.

Next time, she wouldn’t miss.

Killian stood slowly. Walked to the window. Then punched it.

Not hard enough to break the glass, but enough to leave a spiderweb of cracks.

“We end this,” he said, voice deadly calm.

“How?” I asked, standing.

His jaw flexed. “We bait her.”

The next day, the plan began.

I made it public: Ava Monroe was reviewing Lennox’s confidential merger details.

Killian gave me unrestricted access. On paper, I now had control of the final vote.

It was the ultimate provocation.

If Oriana wanted me silenced, she’d make her move now.

And she did.

The message came at 11:03 p.m.

A burner number. One sentence.

Meet me at 320 Vale Street. Come alone. Tell Killian and you’re dead.

I stared at the message for a full minute before I moved.

I didn’t tell Killian.

I left a note.

Then I slipped out into the night.

The address was an abandoned penthouse in the old financial district. Glass-walled. No neighbors. One way in. One way out.

Classic trap.

I went anyway.

Because I had a plan, too.

I stepped through the rusted doors, and there she was.

Oriana.

Calm. Immaculate. Holding a glass of champagne like this was brunch.

“You’re braver than I thought,” she said.

“I get that a lot.”

She tilted her head. “You could’ve walked away. Taken your hush money. But you had to play hero.”

I stepped closer. “Is that what this is to you? A game?”

“Oh, Ava.” Her smile was razor-thin. “This isn’t a game. This is business. And you, my dear, are bad for business.”

She pulled a gun from her coat and pointed it at my chest.

I didn’t move.

“Last chance,” she said. “Walk away. Or fall.”

But before I could answer...

A voice rang out behind her.

“Try it and you’re dead.”

Killian stepped from the shadows, gun raised.

I blinked. “How...?”

“The note,” he said, never taking his eyes off Oriana. “You signed it with a coffee stain. You always do that when you're scared.”

Oriana’s hands trembled.

“You can’t prove anything,” she snapped.

Killian smiled coldly. “You’re right. I can’t.”

Then he turned to me.

“But she can.”

And I raised my phone.

Live stream. Audio. Video. Broadcasting to Lennox’s internal server.

Everyone had seen her threat. Everyone heard her confession.

It was over.

But Oriana…

She didn’t drop the gun.

She looked me dead in the eye.

“I should’ve ended you the moment you walked into his office.”

And then...

Bang.