Chapter 12 · Business Success

Z Design's headquarters occupied the top floor of a renovated warehouse in Millbrook's emerging arts district—exposed brick, floor-to-ceiling windows, a conference room that had hosted pitches worth more than Zaia's first apartment. She'd built this. Brick by brick. Logo by logo. Late nights while the twins slept and her wolf kept watch.

Elena Torres arrived at nine p.m., bypassing security with a keycard Zaia had issued for trusted clients. She looked grim.

"He's been digging for six months," Elena said without preamble. "Hired investigators. Corporate intelligence firms. He's connected Ms. Z to Northern Ridge work, to Silverfang, to a pattern of clients that compete with Blackwood interests. He doesn't have your name yet. But he's close."

Zaia poured coffee. Her hands were steady. "Why tell me?"

"Because Silverfang has a vested interest in your continued anonymity. And because—" Elena hesitated. "Because what he's doing isn't business. It's personal. The man is obsessed."

Zaia thought of the bond's low hum. The occasional flicker of emotion in the night. The way she'd woken sometimes, heart racing, with no explanation except the thread that still connected them.

"He thinks I cheated," she said. "He thinks the twins might not be his.