Chapter 33

Sleep eluded me. I tossed and turned, my heart pounding loud enough to drown out the silence. My thoughts churned, replaying every word I had said to Hadrian. Why had my question angered him so deeply? And, more importantly, was he still upset? I hoped not. Our relationship was already fragile, teetering on a delicate balance even without unnecessary conflicts. At least Lucian seemed less inclined to hold any prejudices against me. Without him, my job would have been exponentially harder.

When morning came, it felt as though I hadn’t rested at all. I dragged myself to the sink and splashed cold water on my face—over and over—until I resembled something vaguely human. Not that I had ever looked particularly ethereal before. My relationship with cosmetics was basic at best. In twenty-five years, I’d never prioritized appearance. I had the theoretical knowledge, sure, but practice was another matter entirely. Standing before the mirror, I wrestled with my lashes, trying to keep them from resembling insect legs.

Thankfully, Freya arrived just in time to rescue me.

“You should be grateful your skin doesn’t need much makeup. You’re lovely as you are,” she said, smiling as she dusted a light powder across my cheeks.

“Not today,” I muttered. “I woke up looking like I’d escaped from a remake of Night of the Living Dead.”

“Tough night? What happened?” Freya’s concern was genuine.

I hesitated before answering. “The Lord Protector got angry with me yesterday. I said something I shouldn’t have—made assumptions about... someone he cared for. It was a stupid mistake.” I forced an awkward smile, trying to downplay the weight of my confession.

Freya’s expression softened, but she muttered something under her breath that caught my attention.

“What did you say?” I pressed, narrowing my eyes at her.

“Nothing,” she deflected, her tone evasive.

“Oh, come on! What did you mean?” I wasn’t letting this go.

Freya sighed in surrender, raising her hands. “You resemble Selene—the human woman he loved.” Her words came cautiously, as though she were stepping across a minefield.

I froze. The name echoed in my mind, and with it, a flood of memories involving Hadrian. A bitter smile formed on my lips.

“That explains a lot,” I said quietly. “I thought, foolishly, that there was something about me he found... appealing. But I guess I’m just a pale reflection of someone he lost.”

“Don’t say that!” Freya placed a comforting hand on my shoulder. “The Lord Protector wouldn’t keep you here out of sentiment. He’s too... ruthless for that.” She paused, realizing her words bordered on brutal honesty.

I chuckled despite myself. Oddly, that was the reassurance I needed. If his actions weren’t driven by nostalgia, it made my presence in his castle feel slightly less unbearable.

Determined to shake off my thoughts, I turned to the task ahead. I dressed quickly, pulling on a sleek overcoat, grabbed my purse, and stepped into the corridor. Then a troubling question occurred to me.

“Is the Lord Protector at the castle?” The last thing I wanted was to face him before work.

“No,” Freya replied immediately. “He left before dawn with Mr. Larkspur. They seemed to be in quite a hurry.”

Curiosity flickered briefly, but I dismissed it. Whatever business had called them away wasn’t mine to worry about. For now, I was relieved to avoid any early encounters with Hadrian. I would deal with him later when I testified before the Night Council.

Elio drove me to Monteforte Investment Bank, where my daily routine awaited. In the archives, I retrieved four more boxes of documents. I maneuvered through the corridors like a ghost, deliberately ignoring my fellow human employees. Unfortunately, my invisibility didn’t stop them from muttering insults loud enough for me to hear.

“Useless slut.”

“Vampires’ toy.”

Their creativity was underwhelming, though their tone was sharper than before. It felt as though someone had been stoking their disdain. I gritted my teeth and returned to my office without engaging. Arguing with people who hated me for existing was a waste of time.

As I reviewed the documents, I noticed a familiar pattern of errors—mistakes I’d flagged in my previous reports. It seemed no one had bothered to correct them. Frustrated, I checked the employee records to see if those responsible still worked there. I hoped not. The last thing I wanted was to cost someone their job, though it wouldn’t have been the first time. But this time felt different—closer, more personal.

I sighed, letting the weight of the morning settle. Another long day had begun.

I sat in front of my laptop and exhaled deeply, steadying myself. With unrestricted access to the human resources files, I could easily verify the current positions of the individuals who had made their way onto my blacklist. It was a small mercy, really—I couldn’t even begin to fathom what it would have been like if I’d needed to involve Vesper in this process.

After another thirty minutes of digging, the situation became glaringly bleak. Of the ten people on my list, nine were still employed by the company. Worse, two of them had even been promoted just last year. A heavy sigh escaped me. My intention had been to prove to Lucian that there was no justification for terminating the contracts of the employees flagged in my initial report, but the evidence I was uncovering painted a very different picture. And the most unsettling part? I hadn’t even finished reviewing the files for the year 2010.

The deeper I delved into my investigation, the more abnormalities surfaced, each more damning than the last. The financial losses the bank had incurred because of these employees ballooned with every entry in my report.

The list of names—the people whose contracts I knew would be in jeopardy—kept growing. With every name I added, a knot of anxiety tightened in my chest.

“This has to be some kind of nightmare!” I burst out, furious as yet another discrepancy glared back at me from the screen.

By the time my workday ended, the tally had risen to over forty. Forty employees who, by all accounts, had no business working at a bank. A quick review of their files revealed that only two of them were vampires.

“They’re going to crucify me for this,” I muttered, my eyes fixed on the ever-growing blacklist.

There was no point trying to persuade the CFO not to fire them. If I were in his position, the decision would have been clear the moment I saw that report. But I knew how it would play out—when the hammer fell, the employees wouldn’t blame the CFO or the CEO. No, they’d come after the person who had authored the damning report.

To make matters worse, the ratio of humans to vampires on the list could easily be misconstrued as bias on my part. And if I were forced to present my findings before all the employees, it would only add fuel to the fire. I could already envision their outrage, their refusal to hear reason.

“Thalassa, what the hell have you gotten yourself into?” I whispered, the weight of the situation pressing down on me.

I should have foreseen this. When I’d pleaded with Hadrian to hire me, my sole focus had been survival. Now, there was no room for sentimentality. My only option was to prove I was doing my job thoroughly and without prejudice.

With a resigned breath, I finished compiling the report, emailed it to the CEO, and printed a hard copy to hand-deliver to Lucian Grimsby.

“What’s this?” Lucian asked, barely looking up as I set the report on his desk. He flipped through the pages, his expression unreadable.

“These are the employees whose mistakes have resulted in significant monetary losses for the bank,” I explained, my voice betraying my nervousness. “I’ve also highlighted the last three names—these individuals demonstrated such gross incompetence that their actions led to clients going bankrupt. It appears someone attempted to cover up the transactions, which is why the issues weren’t flagged earlier.”

Lucian’s eyes flicked over the report. His expression remained composed as he picked up his phone, dialed a number, and issued a curt order: “Come to my office.” Then he hung up.

I sat across from him, my fingers unconsciously drumming against the armrest of the chair. He slipped the report back into its folder and offered me a sly, almost predatory smile.

“What do you plan to do with that list?” I ventured hesitantly, my heart thundering in my chest.

He chuckled, leaning casually against his desk. “Isn’t it obvious? The last three will face legal consequences, and the rest will be terminated immediately.”

I swallowed hard, the weight of his words sinking in. And yet, as daunting as this ordeal already was, one chilling thought loomed larger: I still had nine more years of documents to review.