Chapter Eight: A Question of Trust

Damien

She was wearing red.

It's the first thing I remember when I woke up this morning.

That dress, the soft silk that clung to her curves like it was made for her and no one else. Her lips had been painted the same shade—bold, defiant, and impossible to ignore.

And yet, Eva Sinclair didn't say much at the gala.

She smiled. She nodded. She vanished.

Something about that bothered me more than it should've.

I sat behind my desk at Wolfe Tower, one hand resting on the edge of my phone, the other holding a pen I hadn't used in fifteen minutes.

Her eyes.

That's what really stayed with me.

Big, steady, and full of something I couldn't read. Not fear. Not awe. Almost… grief?

No. That doesn't make sense.

She was just an intern. A bright one, sure. Clever. Talented. Attractive. But she hadn't been there long.

Still… I couldn't shake the feeling I'd met her before.

Or maybe it was her energy—how she looked at me like she already knew me. Like she'd made up her mind about who I was before I ever opened my mouth.

I picked up the phone and pressed the button.

"Yes, Mr. Wolfe?" Margaret, my assistant, answered immediately.

"Get Jordan in here," I said. "Now."

"Right away, sir."

I stood up, walking over to the window. My view overlooked the city, but I wasn't really seeing anything out there. I was too focused on her.

Eva.

A part of me still wanted to believe it was just lust. A young woman walks into your life, smart, beautiful, full of fire—you're a man, not made of stone.

But this wasn't just desire.

It was something off. Something deeper. Like she was walking around with half the truth.

Like she knew something I didn't.

The door opened a moment later.

"Jordan." I didn't even turn.

"Sir."

"Pull up Eva Sinclair's file. Everything. I want a deeper look. Where she studied, who recommended her, family records, work history—anything strange, flag it."

There was a pause behind me.

"Sir… we already did a background check when she was brought on board. Standard procedure."

"I'm not asking for standard, Marcus." I turned around. My voice was sharper now. "Something about her isn't right."

Marcus shifted his weight. "Do you suspect something specific?"

I didn't answer at first.

Then I said, "She's hiding something."

Two Hours Later – Private OfficeI sat with the file open in front of me.

It was neat. Too neat.

Bachelor's in Fine Arts. Graduated top ten percent. Applied to multiple internships, accepted ours three months ago.

No father listed on her birth certificate.

Mother deceased. Margot Sinclair. No known relatives.

I stared at the name for a long time.

Margot.

A name I hadn't heard in more than two decades floated into my mind.

I pushed back from my desk and walked to the drinks cabinet. Poured a splash of whiskey into a glass. I didn't drink this early, but today I needed it.

Claire's voice floated into my mind, even though she was long gone.

"You remember everything about your mistakes, Damien. That's what makes them stick."

Claire.

My lost love.

She always had a sharp tongue, even when she wasn't trying to hurt me.

I closed my eyes, letting the memory pull me back.

It was years ago. Before I built Wolfe Enterprises into what it is now. I was younger. Still trying to prove myself. And I met a woman—Claire. She was a painter. A wild spirit. And I ruined her.

Not with violence.

With silence.

When she told me she was pregnant, I didn't believe her. My lawyer claimed she was after money. That she faked everything. I offered a payoff. She refused. She disappeared.

Eventually, I was told she moved abroad. Lost the baby.

But what if she didn't?

What if…

Eva.

I sat down slowly, heart beating faster.

Could she be—?

"Sir?"

Jordan was back at the door.

"There's something else," he said carefully. "You asked me to flag anything odd. There's a file she tried accessing this morning. In the compliance archives."

I looked up. "Why?"

"She claimed it was for your presentation. But we double-checked—there was no scheduled presentation that needed that data."

"What did she try to access?"

"Offshore transactions. A few files related to Wolfe Investments. The older ones. From before the merger."

My jaw tightened.

Only one kind of person would be interested in those files.

Someone looking for buried secrets.

Someone trying to destroy me.

Or someone trying to find the truth.

Evening – Damien's PenthouseI watched the security footage again. Frame by frame.

Eva, standing in the archive room.

Glancing over her shoulder. Plugging something into the system.

A flash drive?

My stomach turned.

I stood up, restless, pacing across the floor.

The skyline shimmered outside. But all I could think about was the way her voice trembled yesterday. The way she'd said:

"There's a lot you don't know about me."

She wasn't wrong.

And I'd made the mistake before—believing what I wanted to believe instead of seeing the truth.

Was she working with someone?

A rival?

Or was she here because of Margot?

I had to know.

No more guessing.

I pulled out my phone and dialed.

After two rings, a voice answered.

"Mr. Wolfe?"

It was Oliver, my private investigator.

"I need a full surveillance package on one of my interns," I said. "Her name is Eva Sinclair. Priority one. Check for recent communications, movements, personal connections. I want to know who she talks to, where she goes, what she's hiding."

A pause.

"Understood, sir."

I hung up.

And for the first time in a long time… I felt afraid.

Not of her.

But of what I might feel if she's telling the truth.

Because if Eva Sinclair is Claire's daughter…

Then she's mine.

And everything I've felt for her up to now—

Everything I thought I could have—

Was already a sin.