Chapter 2

The next morning, I stepped into the tall glass building like I belonged there.

Di Santi despised lateness—one minute behind schedule could cost a life. So I made sure to arrive early, even if it meant waiting in silence under the watchful eyes of his men.

A week ago, I was nobody. Just Miguel's little sister trying to make ends meet, grieving, lost, and angry. Now, I was Lucia Alvarez — Di Santi's new forensic accountant. With a name forged, a degree that wasn't mine, and a death wish looming over my head.

I kept my heels steady as I walked through the polished floors and greeted the receptionist with a nod. No smiles. Smiles were dangerous here

When I reached my office, I noticed them — clearly this time.

Men in black suits with subtle earpieces — they weren't trying to be discreet today.

Two of them leaned against the wall near my office like they were just killing time.

One walked past my glass window three times in ten minutes.

Another one — tall, bald, eyes like a hawk — stood by the water dispenser across the hallway, watching me sip my coffee with quiet amusement.

I know why.

Di Santi doesn't trust easily. And definitely not me.

I was the new variable in his empire — a stranger with access to his dirty empire: the money. The secrets. The paper trails that could end him.

But instead of fear, I smiled to myself. He was right not to trust me.

I opened the report that had just been delivered this morning. It was a slim folder, crisp pages, neat font. I froze. The numbers weren't just complicated. They were huge — millions of dollars — a web of offshore accounts, cryptocurrency laundering, shell corporations hidden under fake NGOs.

I'd seen Miguel try to map these out before. He used to mutter about how the money came in millions and billions. I used to think he was exaggerating. I was wrong.

At the bottom of the report was a line written in bold red:

"Sign, process, and remain silent. Your life depends on it."

My fingers trembled slightly, but I reached for my pen anyway. Before I could touch the page, a shadow fell across my desk.

"I've been waiting."

I turned sharply. A guard I hadn't heard enter stood just behind me. His voice was flat, but his eyes were scanning my face, my hands, my hesitation. He looked too young to be this cold.

What the hell is Di Santi doing to these young people?

"Are you going to sign or should I take it back unsigned?" he asked.

I forced a smile. "I was just going through the last page."

He didn't reply. I scrawled my signature, made sure it looked clean,and handed the folder back. As he turned to leave, I caught my breath and prayed he hadn't noticed my moment of hesitation.

But he paused. "You're to report to Di Santi's office. Now."

My legs moved before my brain processed it.

The walk to Di Santi's office felt longer than usual. The corridor seemed to narrow with every step, the stares from his men slicing into me like knives.

When we reached the door, the guard opened it without knocking. Dropped the file and walked out immediately.

Inside, Di Santi sat behind his massive mahogany desk, his perfectly tailored suit clinging to a body that hadn't gone soft despite years of wealth. Beneath the coldness in his eyes and his icy demeanor, he was undeniably handsome—dangerously so.

Next to him, seated comfortably like he belonged, was a man I recognized instantly — even though I'd never met him.

Rico.

I'd seen his face once on Miguel's phone — a photo taken years ago, tagged under one of those cryptic names. Miguel had told me in one of our rare causal chats, "Don't let that face fool you. Rico's not as calm as he looks. He's the kind who smiles while he breaks your neck."

Now he was sitting across from me, and his sharp eyes narrowed the moment he saw me.

Di Santi barely glanced at me. "Lucia, meet Rico. My right-hand man. Rico, this is Lucia — our new forensic accountant."

Rico didn't extend his hand right away. He just studied me with a slight tilt of his head, like I was a puzzle missing a piece. I forced a smile and extended mine first.

He took it. Firm grip. Cold fingers.

"Have we met before?" he asked, his voice casual but loaded with venom and suspicion.

"No," I grinned, keeping my tone light. "But I've heard about you or rather read about you during my research about which company to apply to." I lied. "you're the one people whisper about in the hallways."

He smirked, but his eyes didn't soften. "People whisper a lot of things."

There was a short silence. Then Rico turned to Di Santi.

"Do you trust her?"

His question caught me unaware. I stole a glance at Di Santi waiting for his reply.

Di Santi leaned back, steepling his finger with an infuriating calmness. "I don't trust anyone. She's being watched."

Rico turned back to me, and this time, there was no politeness.

"Don't want games," he said coldly. "people who try to outsmart us don't make it far."

I held his stare, wondering if Miguel was part of the people who tried to outsmart them. "I'm here to do a job. Nothing else."

"Good," Di Santi snapped, clearly done with the exchange. He waved his finger toward me. "We are attending a party tonight. High-stakes clients. Billion-dollar men. Your presence is required."

I blinked, thrown off. "With respect, I'm a forensic accountant, not your date."

What was I thinking when I said that?

The room went silent. Even Rico looked up from his phone.

Di Santi's eyes sharpened, his jaw tightening.

"What did you say?"

I realized my mistake too late. No one talked back to him. No woman did. I had crossed a line.

He stood slowly and walked towards me, each step deliberate. When he stopped inches from me, the smell of his cologne mixed with riches hit me like a punch.

What if he pulled the trigger on me at this point?

"You're not even fit to clean my shoes," he said coldly. "If I say you'll be there, you'll be there. There will be funds to process. I don't bring useless people to my meetings."

The words stung, but I swallowed my pride and nodded, lowering my eyes just enough to fake submission. "Understood."

"Get out."

He tossed a file at me, the sharp edge grazing my wrist as it landed. I caught it clumsily, knowing it held every detail I’d need for the so-called party.

I turned to leave, my spine straight, but inside, one thought kept echoing:

What if this was the moment he decided I was a threat? What if the next sound I heard was a bullet?

I turned on my heel and left, my heels clicking too loudly against the tiles. Rico followed, and I wished I could outrun him, but we ended up stepping into the same elevator.

He stood too close. I could feel his eyes scanning me again. I kept my face forward, silent.

"Who are you really?" He asked finally.

I didn't answer.

"You talk like someone who's not scared to die."

I finally looked at him. "I'm not scared of men who hide behind threats."

He chuckled darkly. "Careful, Lucia. People have disappeared for less."

"Then make me," I said sharply."But don't act like you're my boss. You're not. Di Santi is."

His smile vanished. Silence stretched between us until the elevator dinged.

I stepped out first.

Back in my office, I slammed the door shut, locked it, and dropped into my chair. My hands were trembling slightly.

Why was Rico watching me like that? Do I look familiar? I hope he hasn't seen me before on Miguel's phone. Did he know I was Miguel's sister?

I stared at the screen in front of me, but I couldn't focus. Not with the creeping sense that someone was putting pieces together — and that someone might be Rico.

I wasn't ready for what Di Santi called "a party."

Not even close.

But...

I had to stay ahead. One mistake, one crack in my act, and I wouldn't get a second chance.