His Enemy’s Daughter

The whispers started small.

A passing comment in the elevator.

A lingering glance in the hallway.

By midweek, Amelia felt the weight of invisible eyes following her.

She tried to ignore it—tried to pretend that it was just office politics, just her imagination. But when she opened her email that morning, the subject line of the first anonymous message made her heart slam into her ribs:

"Your last name is Hale. That Hale?"

Her throat dried.

She stared at the screen, her fingers frozen above the keyboard. No sender. No details. Just that one question—enough to send panic clawing up her spine.

Only a few people in this building knew her full name.

Only one man had access to every piece of personal information about her.

Liam.

She shut her laptop, too fast. Her pulse wouldn't calm. Logic told her to breathe. That it could be coincidence.

But her gut told her otherwise.

It had been years since anyone had dared mention her father. She'd changed schools, jobs, even states to outrun his name. Most days, she barely allowed herself to think about him.

But now—now the name was coming back like a ghost.

And she had a sinking suspicion it wasn't by accident.

Later that day, Liam summoned her into his office again. His tone, as always, smooth. Neutral. But Amelia noticed the way he was watching her the moment she stepped inside.

Like he was measuring her.

"Close the door," he said.

She did.

He gestured for her to sit, but she remained standing. "Is everything alright?"

Liam raised an eyebrow. "I should ask you that."

Her jaw tensed. She didn't respond.

Instead, she slid the chair out and sat across from him, placing her hands carefully on her lap. She wouldn't let him see her nerves.

"I received an anonymous message this morning," she said, her voice controlled.

He leaned back in his chair. "We get thousands of those. Hackers. Trolls. Spam."

"This one asked about my last name."

He tilted his head slightly. "And?"

"And I'm wondering how anyone here even knew it."

A pause.

Then a slow smile curved his lips. "Amelia, you're an asset in a billion-dollar firm. HR has your full profile. You're not a ghost."

"But most people here don't know my full name unless someone gave it to them."

He watched her for a beat longer than necessary.

Then said, "Are you accusing me of something?"

Her breath caught.

"No," she said quietly. "But I want to know if someone is digging into my past."

Liam's smile faded.

He stood, walked over to the bar cart, and poured himself a glass of scotch—something she'd seen him do when he needed time to think. Or to distract.

"Do you know why I chose you to work directly under me, Amelia?"

The question caught her off guard.

She frowned. "Because I'm efficient?"

He turned back to her, glass in hand. "Because you don't scare easily."

Her spine straightened.

"And because I need someone who's smart enough to see what others miss. But if you start letting ghosts from the past haunt your judgment—then I might have chosen wrong."

He said it softly, almost like a warning wrapped in silk.

Amelia didn't flinch. "I haven't let my past affect my judgment."

He took a sip, then placed the glass down and walked toward her.

"I can protect you from rumors," he said. "From vultures. From whatever's chasing your name."

Her breath hitched.

"But only if you let me."

It was manipulative. Clear as day.

He was offering her protection—but at a cost.

"Why do you care?" she asked, her voice a little sharper now. "About protecting me?"

His eyes locked on hers. For a moment, she saw something flicker there—something too fast to name.

"Because I hate wasted potential," he said.

A clever answer. Clean. Almost believable.

But not quite.

Two days later, she was invited to a high-level internal meeting about a confidential acquisition deal—something no junior associate should've had access to.

She sat between two senior VPs, trying to hide her confusion. Why had she been brought in?

Then she saw him.

Liam walked in like a storm in tailored black. Eyes scanning the room. And when they landed on her, he gave the smallest nod.

The meeting began—and Amelia understood quickly why she was there.

The company they were about to absorb had a sketchy history. Legal grey zones. Hidden shell companies. Their former CEO had ties to... questionable characters.

And one of those characters?

Her father's name flashed on the screen.

She flinched.

It was fast. Barely a second.

But Liam saw it.

He saw everything.

After the meeting, he pulled her aside in the hallway.

"I didn't know he was connected to this company," she said immediately, defensive.

"I never said he was."

"But you knew I'd see that name. That connection."

He didn't answer.

Instead, he leaned against the wall beside her, folding his arms. "Did you learn something in that meeting?"

She swallowed. "Yes."

"Did you keep your composure?"

"Yes."

"Then I made the right call."

She stared at him.

"You wanted to test me," she said slowly. "You used my past to provoke a reaction."

"I gave you an opportunity."

"You manipulated me."

That made him pause.

Then, he said, "You're strong, Amelia. But you don't know it yet. And sometimes, strength needs a little push."

Her fingers clenched at her sides. "You don't get to decide how I grow."

His expression shifted—just slightly. Enough to tell her she'd touched a nerve.

Then he stepped closer.

And the tension snapped taut between them again.

"I won't apologize for sharpening the tools I value," he said. "You want to rise in this world? You'll need thicker skin."

She stared up at him, something burning in her chest.

Anger. Confusion. And something else she hated admitting—desire.

Why was she still drawn to him?

Why did his voice still echo in her head hours after he left the room?

"I'll play the game, Mr. Blackthorne," she said, her voice tight. "But don't mistake me for one of your pawns."

He smiled.

A slow, dangerous thing.

"I wouldn't dare."

That night, Amelia sat in her apartment, files spread across her small dining table. She wasn't working.

She was digging.

Into the company they were acquiring. Into the shell firms tied to it. Into the offshore account linked to her father's name.

And what she found chilled her to the bone.

One of the firms had been dissolved six months ago.

Right after Liam Blackthorne bought out the bank that had funded it.

Her stomach turned.

It wasn't just that Liam knew about her past.

He'd been circling it.

Controlling it.

She sat back, heart pounding.

He hadn't just crossed paths with her by accident.

He'd engineered it.

And now she had a choice to make.

Stay in the game.

Or start playing one of her own.