Chapter 60: A Pawn's Gambit Vanessa POV

I stepped out from the alley behind the coffee shop, adjusting my scarf to shield my face from the wind, my boots clicking on the pavement. I glanced over my shoulder, spotting Julian’s car still parked across from Sinclair Global. "Not today," I muttered, pulling my hood up and darting into a side street, weaving through a group of pedestrians chatting about the weather.

I ducked into a small boutique, grabbing a random scarf from a rack, pretending to browse as I peeked out the window. Julian climbed out of his car, scanning the street, his phone pressed to his ear. I slipped out the back exit, cutting through a parking lot, my breath puffing in the cold air as I kept moving.

I circled around, taking a longer route, my hands stuffed in my pockets, kicking a pebble as I crossed a bridge over a narrow creek. A duck quacked below, paddling in circles. I checked my watch—ten minutes since I’d last seen him. "Lost you," I said under my breath, turning toward the office, my pace quickening.

My phone buzzed in my pocket as I neared Sinclair Global, Victor’s name flashing on the screen. I stopped, leaning against a lamppost, and answered, my voice tight. "What?"

"Vanessa, come to my office," he said, his tone clipped. "We need to talk."

I pulled my scarf tighter, my fingers twisting the fabric. "Fine," I replied, hanging up without another word. I pushed off the lamppost, marching toward the building, my boots thudding against the sidewalk.

Inside, I took the stairs, avoiding the elevator crowd, my hand gripping the railing as I climbed. Reaching his floor, I straightened my coat, brushing a speck of dust off my sleeve, and knocked on his office door, my knuckles rapping sharply.

"Come in," Victor called, his voice muffled through the wood.

I pushed the door open, stepping inside, shutting it behind me with a firm click. He sat at his desk, flipping through papers, a coffee mug in hand. I walked over, stopping in front of him, my hands on my hips. "Why’d you put Julian on me?"

He set the mug down, the clink loud in the quiet room, and looked up, his eyes steady. "Because I don’t trust you, Vanessa."

I laughed, a sharp, bitter sound, grabbing a pen from his desk and twirling it between my fingers. "You don’t trust me? After everything I’ve done for you?"

"Everything?" he replied, leaning back, folding his arms. "Like what, exactly?"

I slammed the pen down, my voice rising. "I’ve covered for you, kept your secrets, played your game—"

"And now you’re sneaking around," he cut in, standing, his chair scraping the floor. "Don’t think I haven’t noticed."

I stepped closer, pointing at him. "Sneaking? You’ve locked me out of meetings, changed passwords, turned my own people against me!"

He grabbed a file from his desk, flipping it open, his finger tracing a line. "You’ve given me reason to doubt you. I’m protecting what’s mine."

"Protecting?" I scoffed, kicking the leg of his desk, my boot leaving a faint scuff. "You’re paranoid, Victor. You’re pushing me away!"

"And you’re not pushing back?" he shot back, tossing the file aside, papers fluttering to the floor. "You’ve been sloppy, Vanessa."

I bent to pick up a stray paper, crumpling it in my fist. "Sloppy? I’ve been loyal—unlike you, spying on your own daughter!"

He smirked, picking up his mug again, swirling the coffee. "Loyalty’s earned, not assumed. You’ve been meeting with Sophia."

I froze, dropping the crumpled paper, my hand hovering mid-air. "What?"

"You heard me," he said, sipping his coffee, setting it down with a soft clink. "I know you’ve been seeing her."

I straightened, brushing my hands on my jeans, my voice low. "And what if I have?"

He leaned forward, his elbows on the desk, his fingers steepled. "Good."

"Good?" I echoed, stepping back, my heel catching on the rug. "You’re not mad?"

He stood, walking around the desk, picking up a paperclip and bending it. "Not mad. Smart, even. You want my trust back? Use it."

I tilted my head, my hands clenching into fists. "Use it how?"

"Get me something valuable from her," he said, tossing the twisted paperclip onto the desk, his eyes locked on mine. "Something I can use."

I laughed again, a shaky sound, grabbing my bag from the floor where I’d dropped it. "You want me to spy on Sophia for you?"

"Call it what you want," he replied, adjusting his tie with a quick tug. "But if you’re serious about your place here, you’ll do it."

I slung my bag over my shoulder, my fingers gripping the strap. "And if I don’t?"

He smirked again, picking up a pen and tapping it against his palm. "Then you’re out, Vanessa. Simple as that."

I turned, pacing to the window, pushing the blinds aside to peek out at the street below, a delivery truck rumbling by. "You’re unbelievable," I said, my voice trembling with anger.

"Practical," he corrected, sitting back down, his chair creaking. "You’ve got a choice—prove yourself or prove me right."

I spun around, my boots scuffing the floor, pointing at him again. "You think I’ll just roll over for this?"

"I think you’ll do what’s smart," he said, flipping open another file, his pen scribbling a note. "You’re too much like me to walk away."

I grabbed the doorknob, twisting it, my hand shaking slightly. "I’m not your pawn, Victor."

"Not yet," he replied, not looking up, his pen scratching paper. "But you will be."

I stepped out, slamming the door behind me, the bang echoing down the hall, my breath hitching as I leaned against the wall, my fingers digging into my bag. "Damn you," I whispered, kicking the baseboard, my mind racing with conflict—loyalty, betrayal, survival all tangled up inside me.