The Heir I was Meant to Hate

THE ART O

eyes fixed on the name etched in silver across the entrance. The building seemed to pierce the sky,

. The patience, the precision, the ability to see beyond the surface-these were the skills that

. The lobby was exactly what she expected-luxurious, polished, and impersonal. A receptionist, poised and professio

pounding. This wasn't just a job interview. It was a chance to infiltr

had mysteriously disappeared into the hands of Blackwood Enterprises before he died under suspicious circumstan

ice space. The receptionist directed her to a waiting area, where sunlight streamed in t

ss doors. Sophia took a deep breath and reminded herself of her role-she wasn't here as a grieving daught

ire, she would finally find the truth

emed to be worth a small fortune. She recognized a few of the artists, but there were others she ha

used to smile when he talked about art, the way his eyes lit up when he discovered a new pi

rning from him. He had taught her everything she knew, from the basics of art history

d had taken everything from him. And now

d become increasingly paranoid, the way he had started to suspect that someone was watching him

ts, and Sophia stood up, smoothing out her blaz

t. This was it. This was her chance to get inside the Bla

tanding behind the desk. Damian Blackwood. The heir to the Blac

g into the lion's den, and she knew it. But she was ready. She was ready to face w

d at each other. She could see the calculation in his eyes, the hint

e was determined to see it through. She smiled, a cool, confiden

ame w