Chapter 58

I had convinced myself that returning to work would help me cope. My reasoning was straightforward: avoid places that held traces of Hadrian’s presence. The thought of immersing myself in the world of numbers and legal jargon brought a flicker of excitement—an escape, however fleeting, from the gnawing ache buried deep in my heart and mind. Against Freya’s advice, I decided to head to the bank’s headquarters after breakfast. Anything to distance myself from the oppressive weight of the castle walls.

That resolve lasted until I crossed the threshold of the building.

The moment I stepped inside, the air seemed to shift. My head spun, and a tremor coursed through my body. In an instant, the haunting images of the attack surged to the forefront of my mind, vivid and unrelenting. My breathing quickened, syncing with the erratic pounding of my heart. A high-pitched whine pierced my ears, forcing me to clamp my hands over them in a futile attempt to block it out.

“Are you okay?”

A voice, clear and concerned, cut through the chaos like a lifeline.

I blinked, lifting my gaze to find a woman about my age leaning toward me, her expression etched with worry.

“Y-yes…” I stammered, forcing an unconvincing smile as I straightened up. My hands, trembling uncontrollably, disappeared behind my back.

“Are you sure? You look like you need the medical office,” she pressed, her brows knitting together.

“No!” The word shot out of me, sharp and defensive.

She recoiled slightly, her expression shifting to one of guarded suspicion. I must have looked utterly unhinged.

“I mean... I’m fine,” I backtracked hastily, chuckling nervously. “Just a little stressed.”

Her gaze lingered, appraising me. “Overworked, huh?”

“It’s not usually this bad,” I mumbled, my attempt at reassurance coming out weak and unconvincing. “Just had a rough few days.”

I bowed my head slightly and resumed walking, eager to escape the interaction. She matched my pace, heading toward the elevators.

“I get it,” she said with a light laugh. “Yesterday, I had a client demand a line-by-line explanation of a forty-five-page contract. Absolute nightmare.”

I forced a polite smile, the muscles in my face already aching under the strain. I couldn’t muster the energy to connect with another employee, and this woman was no exception. All I wanted was to retreat into the elevator and vanish from sight.

“I’m Mireille Alden, Senior Manager,” she announced, extending a hand.

I hesitated. My reputation preceded me in this building, and not in a good way. Mireille, however, wasn’t a name I recognized as one of my detractors. Taking a chance, I responded.

“I’m Thalassa Drayton, Audit Specialist,” I said softly, shaking her hand.

“Oh,” she replied, her tone intrigued.

“Oh?” I echoed warily.

“You’re… well-known,” she said, her lips quirking into a wry smile.

“That’s a polite way of putting it,” I muttered, returning the smirk.

Her grin widened. “Lucky for you, I’m pretty confident in my work. No reason for me to dislike you.” There was a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Why don’t we grab coffee sometime?”

The directness of her offer caught me off guard. I studied her more closely: dark-blonde curls, bright blue eyes, and a light complexion flushed with a natural blush. She exuded elegance, dressed in a Chanel skirt suit and Jimmy Choo heels. Her perfume—a unique blend of lavender, vanilla, and mint—was unfamiliar, though oddly comforting.

“Coffee sounds nice,” I said, managing a genuine smile.

“Great!” she chirped, pulling out her phone. “Give me your number.”

A pang of embarrassment shot through me. “I don’t have a phone,” I admitted awkwardly.

“That’s fine. I’ll email you,” she replied without missing a beat, stepping into the elevator.

I followed her, surprised by how refreshing the interaction felt. It was rare to encounter someone in this building who didn’t see me as a threat or a nuisance.

Mireille exited on the sixteenth floor, turning back to wish me a good day. For the first time in ages, I felt like an actual person instead of an unwelcome outsider.

As I approached my office, I noticed a tall figure standing by the door. The man turned to meet my gaze, his grin broad and unapologetically smug. With a slight bow, he introduced himself.

“Icarus Kroos. Your new assistant-slash-bodyguard.” His grin widened, as if he found the title amusing.

“Nice to meet you. I’m Thalassa Drayton… but I guess you already knew that.” I let out a strained laugh, unsure how else to respond to the sudden introduction.

I figured this must be the new personal security guard Mr. Larkspur had mentioned. My gaze trailed over him slowly, scrutinizing every detail, wondering if he could truly protect me from those brutes who had attacked me. He had sharp Asian features, jet-black hair, dark eyes that seemed to pierce through me, and a porcelain-white complexion that made it difficult to tell if he was human—or something else.

"I'm a half-breed, in case you're wondering," he said with a smirk, as though he had read my thoughts.

Flustered, I quickly looked away. "I apologize if my staring made you uncomfortable..."

"It's all right," he said with a light chuckle. "I get that a lot. I may not look it, but I'm much stronger than any ordinary human. My father passed on a good amount of his vampire genes to me, so I can handle common threats without breaking a sweat."

"That's... reassuring," I said, forcing a small, awkward smile.

"My office is right next to yours," he continued, his tone confident. "If you need an escort or assistance with anything, I'll be here. And I’m not just muscle—I’m pretty skilled with numbers and business, so if you ever need help with your audits, feel free to ask."

"Thank you," I said with a nod, reaching for my office door.

"One more thing," he called out, stopping me just as I was about to step inside. "Another bodyguard will join me at sunset. His name is Varen Walker. You’ll know him right away—he’s hard to miss at six and a half feet tall with blond hair."

"Thanks for the tip," I replied, managing a playful wink before finally stepping into my office.

I was closing the door when his voice rang out again. "Mr. Grimsby!"

Pausing, I turned back. "Yes? What about Mr. Grimsby?"

"He wants you to stop by his office," Icarus said, beaming as though proud of himself for remembering the message.

"Thank you, Mr. Kroos," I said, offering him a smile before finally shutting the door.

Inside, my eyes fell on the stack of documents waiting on my desk. Just seeing them brought back the events of the last two nights in vivid detail. And then there was Peregrine—the email from Lucian’s assistant flashed through my mind. The timing had been too perfect, the ambush too well-planned. The cameras in the archives turned off—it wasn’t a coincidence.

I quickly scanned my inbox, then made my way to Lucian’s office. As I passed the desks of the CFO’s assistants, Peregrine’s was conspicuously empty. I stopped, frowning. Had he already been fired?

"He didn’t show up for work," came Lucian’s voice from behind me.

I turned to face him, his words sinking in. "He emailed me, saying you wanted me to review some contracts I’d already approved," I said, watching closely for his reaction.

Lucian glanced briefly at his first assistant, who seemed engrossed in his computer, then cleared his throat. "Let’s discuss this in my office."

I followed him in silence, noting the tension in his posture. Once inside, he closed the door and gestured for me to sit. We both settled on the sofa, the air heavy with unspoken concerns.

"Peregrine Smith wasn’t who he seemed," Lucian began, his voice cautious. "We’ve uncovered evidence that he was working for the Lord Protector’s enemies. He hasn’t been to work in three days, but he managed to remotely access his company email to send you that message. The Lord Protector has tasked me with overseeing the investigation."

I exhaled sharply. This wasn’t just about a disgruntled assistant seeking revenge. It was something far bigger.

"So... the attack wasn’t about me? It was aimed at the Lord Protector?" I asked, my voice unsteady.

Lucian hesitated, his expression unreadable. "The Lord Protector is... difficult to reach. They couldn’t get to him directly," he said, pausing as though reluctant to continue.

"So?" I pressed, fear creeping into my voice.

His gaze locked onto mine, and he took a deep breath. "You’re their target, Thalassa."