### CHAPTER 2 **WINNIE** The elevator ride upwards feels like an agonizing stretch of time, each floor crawling by slowly under the weight of my anxious thoughts. I had hoped Rick would join me, but to my surprise, he opted to remain in the lobby—a place he rarely uses as a waiting area. My apprehension spikes as I realize the gravity of the situation. As I step onto my father’s floor, I’m greeted not by warmth but by an unsettling silence punctuated by the relentless clatter of Louise's fingers against her keyboard. The woman has been like a second mother to me, yet the way she avoids my gaze adds an ominous layer to the atmosphere. "Good morning, Louise," I chirp, attempting to infuse some cheerfulness into the heavy air. No response; she simply keeps her eyes glued to the screen. "He’s been waiting for you," she finally replies, her voice steady and unyielding, still failing to acknowledge my presence. I simply nod, feeling the weight of uncertainty settle deeper into my chest. Whatever is awaiting me behind that office door can’t be too dire, can it? The worst thing I’ve done was date someone my family hired, an inconsequential mistake sure to provoke a reprimand but hardly warranting distress. I take solace in the possibility that this crisis might have nothing to do with me at all. Maybe the company is facing turbulence—a far more pressing issue than my romantic entanglement. We come from a lineage entrenched in the luxury hotel business, and Dad has been tirelessly working on ambitious projects as of late. He’s been vocal about needing my presence in the public eye, urging me to make the family seem relatable, approachable. A painstaking reminder that our lives are constantly scrutinized, and with adversaries lurking in the shadows, we must stay a step ahead. As I stride toward his office, the heavy wooden doors seem to resist my entry. My heart races as I scan the expansive room, but Dad isn’t perched at his usual desk. Instead, my world tilts when I find him in the recesses of his office, a glass tumbler firmly gripped in his hand. It’s still morning; this isn’t the usual decade-old routine he follows. “Dad?” The word escapes my lips like a hesitant prayer, laced with uncertainty. He doesn’t turn right away, his posture rigid as he gazes out of the window, surveying the skyline that weaves through the heart of the city. I find it jarring that he stands there, drink in hand, while I feel like a ghost in my own home. “Take a seat, Winifred.” His voice is flat, devoid of any warmth. My heart sinks at the formal use of my full name. It’s a name rooted in family history, one that signals disappointment rather than affection. I’m usually just Winnie—a name pricked with love, but now it feels heavy with reproach. As I pull the chair back, its creak echoes in the silence like a crack of thunder. I slide into it, my breath shallow and quickening as I try to mask my unease. “Everything okay?” The question feels feeble and small, a whisper of vulnerability I despise. I’ve always been the quiet one, my life a series of templates set by others. Freedom only danced within the confines of college, where I met Margo and Emma, the two stars in my otherwise dim universe. Even then, ambition weighed heavily on my shoulders; my father’s expectations loomed, urging me to secure a powerful match. What would he think if he knew about Blake? Nothing good, of that I am sure. Blake has nothing to offer to my family—no wealth, no standing—just a haunted past locked away in silence. I’ve always thought it made him intriguing… and perhaps, that’s why I fell for him so hard. “Dad?” I inquire once again, anxiety pricking at my skin as his silence looms larger. A deep, ragged sigh escapes him, laden with sorrow. He turns to face me, and at that moment, the world narrows into the piercing disappointment etched upon his features. The quiet terror blossoms in my gut. “We have a problem. A big one,” he states, his voice slicing through the air with authority. My foot begins to tap restlessly against the carpet, hidden from his view. He detests signs of weakness, and I don’t want my unease to betray me. Adrenaline courses through my veins. “What kind of problem?” “A problem due to some dreadful choices you’ve made recently.” A lump forms in my throat, and he seizes the silence to yank open the drawer of his desk. With a swift motion, he slams down a photograph. My breath hitches as my eyes fall upon it—my entire body seizes with disbelief. “What?” I gasp, a tremor weaving through my limbs. This can’t be real. "There’s plenty more where that came from," he growls, his face a mask of fury. “A video, too,” he adds, the weight of his words crashing down upon me. “I don’t understand…” I blink rapidly, desperately willing the tears threatening to spill to retreat. Is this truly happening? “Blake dropped them off with my assistant first thing this morning. He’s coming after our family, Winifred. How could you be so reckless?” “He what?” My voice fractures, disbelief pooling within as fear wraps its fingers around me. “He aims to dismantle us as some form of revenge. He’s threatening to distribute this to every major publication.” “Revenge for what?” The question hangs in the air, a haunting echo of confusion. Just last night, I had contemplated the depths of my feelings for Blake, convinced I understood the man behind his mask. Our clandestine relationship felt like both promise and sanctuary. It appears now to be both the beginning and the end. “We’re still piecing together the context. He didn’t provide a motive—just asserted that he wields the power now.” I lean back, heart racing, feeling as if it might leap from my chest at any moment. “But... I thought he was—” “You clearly weren’t thinking at all,” he barks, an eruption of venom in his words. The anger ripples through me, but so does the shame. “How could you have been so foolish? How long has this been transpiring?” My hands tremble as I grapple with a response. No explanation can salvage the situation; I feel utterly unarmed in this emotional battleground. I was blinded by what I thought was love. Despite my late reservations, Blake had waited steadily and patiently, even when I turned him down over and over. I let my heart mislead me. “Last night was the first time we…” My words falter, shrouded in an unexplainable embarrassment. Why should I feel ashamed to say we had been intimate? My father knows all too well the implications of that act—not just in love but deep within the twisted family politics. Before my father can respond, the sharp ring of his office phone cuts through the tension like a knife. “Hello?” His tone is clipped, brows furrowing deeply. “Send him in,” he directs the caller, and my stomach twists in knots. Surely he doesn’t mean Blake... I open my mouth to question him, but the opportunity evaporates as his attention redirects to the door behind me. Suddenly, it swings open, and chaos floods in as Blake strides through the threshold. But it’s not just him that takes my breath away; it’s the searing intensity of his gaze, riveted directly upon me.