Camille.
The world outside the boardroom was a blur of muted grays and beige carpets. Her legs felt like they belonged to someone else, shaky and unreliable. Her heart was a frantic drum against her ribs, a wild rhythm of fear and exhilaration. She had done it. She had actually done it.
She didn't look at the receptionist as she stormed past the front desk. She kept her eyes fixed on the gleaming brass doors of the elevator bank at the far end of the lobby. Freedom was thirty floors down.
Her hands trembled as she jabbed the 'down' button. Once. Twice. A third time for good measure. A soft chime answered her, and a set of doors slid open with a quiet hiss.
Camille practically fell inside, desperate to be anywhere else. She spun around, ready to press the button for the lobby, to put this place, this life, behind her.
She crashed directly into a wall of solid muscle. A wall dressed in a suit that probably cost more than her entire apartment.
Strong hands gripped her upper arms, steadying her. They weren't gentle. They were firm, possessive, a silent command to stop moving.
"Watch where you're going," a voice said. The sound was low, cold, and laced with an authority that made the air crackle.
Camille's head snapped up. Her breath caught in her throat.
She knew that face. Everyone in the industry knew that face. Sculpted cheekbones, a severe jawline, and eyes the color of a winter storm. They were eyes that didn't just see you; they assessed you, weighed you, and found you wanting. Ethan Calder.
The ruthless, enigmatic CEO of Calder Entertainment. The only man Sterling at Apex Media truly feared. In her five years in the industry, in her whole first life, she had never once been in the same room with him. He was a god on a different Olympus.
The elevator doors slid shut, encasing them in a small, silent box of steel and glass.
Ethan Calder released her arms, his expression one of mild annoyance, like he'd just found a scuff on a perfect shoe. "Are you lost?" he asked, his voice dripping with condescension. "Sterling usually keeps his new puppies on a tighter leash."
Camille's shock gave way to a surge of the same icy rage that had saved her upstairs. "I'm not his puppy," she said, her voice surprisingly steady.
One of his dark eyebrows arched slightly. It was the only sign of interest he gave. "Not anymore, I take it? Did you get tired of the kennel?"
"Something like that."
He gave her a dismissive once-over, taking in her worn-out jeans and the cheap purse clutched in her white-knuckled grip. He was about to turn away, to dismiss her as nothing, and a fresh wave of panic seized her. This was it. This was her only chance. Apex would blacklist her. Linda would poison every well. But this man... this man could be a shield. Or a sword.
She had nothing to lose. She'd already lost it all once before.
"You want to hurt him," she said. It wasn't a question.
Ethan Calder turned back slowly, his storm-gray eyes narrowing on her. The casual annoyance was gone, replaced by a predator's focus. "And if I do?"
"I can help you."
He laughed. It was not a pleasant sound. It was sharp and humorless. "You? What could a failed actress possibly offer me?"
"Information," she said, taking a step closer. The elevator was small, but the space between them suddenly felt vast and dangerous. He smelled of sandalwood and power.
"I have people for information."
"Not this kind," she insisted, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Not yet." She had to remember. The news reports, the financial gossip she'd overheard Marcus discussing on the phone. It was all a haze, but one detail was crystal clear. It was the first domino.
"Enlighten me," he challenged, crossing his arms over his broad chest. He was indulging her, the way a king might listen to a court jester before calling the guards.
"Apex Media is about to close a merger," she began, her heart pounding. "They're acquiring Starstream Productions and Phoenix Pictures in a joint deal."
"Old news," he scoffed. "The papers have been reporting that for weeks."
"They've been reporting a rumor," she corrected him, her gaze unflinching. "I'm telling you it's happening. Sterling is signing the final papers this Friday."
He stared at her, his expression unreadable. "And your point is?"
"The point," she said, leaning in even closer, her voice barely audible, "is that it's going to fail. Spectacularly."
For the first time since she'd met his gaze, a flicker of genuine surprise crossed his features. It was gone in an instant, but she saw it.
"How?" he asked, his voice a low command.
"The Phoenix Pictures board. They're going to reject the offer at the last minute. Friday. Around noon. There's a clause about streaming rights they refuse to sign. Sterling is too arrogant to see it. He thinks he can bully them into it."
Silence descended in the elevator car. The only sound was the soft hum of its descent. Ethan Calder wasn't looking at her like a nuisance anymore. He was looking at her like a puzzle he was trying to solve.
"That is a very specific piece of information," he said slowly. "Why tell me?"
"Because when it falls apart, the stock for both companies will tank. And a clever man could buy up a controlling interest in Starstream for pennies on the dollar before Sterling even knows what hit him. Starstream, which owns the rights to the 'Crimson Blade' franchise. The franchise Calder Entertainment has been trying to get its hands on for a year."
His eyes were like chips of ice. "Who are you?"
"Camille Rivers," she said, giving him the name he would have forgotten if he'd ever even heard it.
"And how does Camille Rivers know all of this?"
She gave him a small, broken smile. "Let's just say Mr. Sterling celebrated his victory a little too early. And he did it in front of the wrong girl."
The elevator chimed softly, announcing their arrival at the lobby. The doors slid open to a world of polished marble and quiet efficiency.
Camille took a step back, breaking the strange intimacy of their conversation. "The information is free, Mr. Calder. A gift. Do what you want with it."
She turned and walked out of the elevator, not daring to look back. Her legs were still shaking, but every step felt like a victory.
"Ms. Rivers," his voice called after her, sharp and commanding. It stopped her in her tracks.
She glanced over her shoulder. He stood framed in the elevator doorway, a dark, imposing figure of immense power.
"This is a dangerous game you're playing," he warned.
"I'm a dangerous woman," she replied, though she felt anything but. "I just had to die to figure it out."
Before he could respond, she turned and fled. She walked as quickly as she could without running, past the security desk, through the massive revolving doors, and out into the chilly October air.
She kept walking, not knowing where she was going, just needing to put distance between herself and that building. She didn't see the sleek black town car that pulled away from the curb moments later. She didn't see the man inside.
Ethan Calder watched her disappear into the crowd of pedestrians. He lifted his phone to his ear. It had been answered on the first ring.
"Sir?" the voice on the other end was clipped and professional.
"A woman just left my building," Ethan said, his eyes still fixed on the spot where she had vanished. "Her name is Camille Rivers. Brown hair, five-seven, looks like she's about to shatter into a million pieces. Find out everything there is to know about her. Her history, her connection to Sterling, what she had for breakfast this morning. Everything."
"And, sir?"
"Yes, Mark?"
"What should we do when we find her?"
Ethan allowed a slow, cold smile to touch his lips. It was the first real smile he'd worn all day. "Don't let her out of your sight."
