Chapter 1 Shadows Of The Empire

A storm brewed above the jagged skyline of Madrid, the thunderclouds curling like fists around the towering Montero Global Enterprises. Rain slashed against the shimmering glass panels, streaking the windows of the penthouse boardroom where Diego Montero sat at the head of a polished obsidian table. He was still as a marble statue, broad shoulders beneath a sharp-tailored navy suit, black silk tie knotted to perfection, and silver cufflinks glinting under the overhead lights. Diego's eyes, cold and steel-gray, swept across the room like a predator scenting blood. The board members shifted uncomfortably in their seats. No one dared speak first. "Strip their assets," Diego said, his voice calm, laced with lethal intent. "Liquidate their holdings before dawn." A timid cough broke the tension. "But sir, if we take the entire company, there will be layoffs……" Diego’s jaw tightened, a muscle twitching along his chiseled cheekbone. "If they want mercy, they're in the wrong business." His words dropped heavy as iron. The room fell silent again. Through the vast floor-to-ceiling windows, lightning split the sky, briefly illuminating a building across the street. High above, in a shadowed apartment, Mariana Del Castillo adjusted the sniper-like lens of her camera. Her finger tightened on the shutter as she focused in on Diego’s stoic face. “Heartless bastard,” she muttered, snapping the shot. She didn’t need the photograph for evidence, this was personal. Mariana’s dark curls were damp from the rain seeping in through the broken window she crouched beside. Her hazel eyes narrowed, studying the cold lines of Diego’s face through the lens. She could almost feel his power radiating through the glass. He was exactly as she’d imagined, controlled, ruthless, and untouchable. But every empire had a crack. And Mariana? She was about to find his. The apartment Mariana called home was barely more than a box in the sky—four cracked walls, one dusty window, and a single flickering light bulb overhead. The hum of traffic floated up from the streets below, but in her small world, all she could hear was the beating of her heart. A wall in front of her had become a shrine of red strings and pinned photos, a web of conspiracy. At the center? A black-and-white photograph of her father, Arturo Del Castillo, circled in crimson ink. His smiling face contrasted the brutal truth Mariana knew: he had been murdered. Below his photo, printed news clippings shouted the lie: “ACCIDENTAL DEATH: BUSINESSMAN KILLED IN TRAGIC COLLAPSE.” Her fingers hovered over the headline, tracing it with bitter detachment. “An accident,” she whispered. “You deserved better than that.” Mariana’s jaw tensed. Her father had been on the verge of exposing Montero Global before his death. She was sure of it. All the evidence led back to Diego Montero. But the bastard was too careful. Too clean. With a determined look in her eyes, she threw another pile of papers onto the messy desk. She was startled out of her reverie by a knock on the door. She opened it, slid the bolt aside, and discovered one manila packet on the floor. Not a soul in sight. Her pulse quickened. She tore it open. A single note slid out. “Montero Global is hiring. Executive Assistant to the CEO. Your way in.” Mariana’s breath caught. Her ticket inside. Her eyes flicked back to her father’s picture. “Time to meet the king,” she muttered. She sat down at the rickety desk, pulled out her laptop, and began crafting her perfect, untraceable resume. She would infiltrate Montero Global. And when she was inside? She’d rip Diego Montero’s empire apart from within. But deep down, a shiver crept over her, because she knew empires didn’t fall without blood. The rain had stopped, leaving streaks of water glistening on Mariana’s apartment window. She stood in front of her cracked mirror, her reflection almost unrecognizable. Gone were the tight black jeans and leather jacket that screamed rebellion. In their place, a crisp white blouse and a charcoal-gray pencil skirt hugged her frame, professional, polished, perfect for Montero Global. She twisted her curls into a neat bun, tucking a few stubborn strands behind her ear. Her hazel eyes sharpened with determination. Mariana Cortez. That’s who she was now. Behind her, Camila Soriano lounged on the edge of the sagging sofa, a file clutched in her lap. “You know this isn’t just another exposé, right?” Her voice was tinged with worry. “This man plays chess while everyone else plays checkers.” Mariana smirked, swiping a nude lipstick across her mouth. “Then I’ll play dirtier.” Camila snorted but didn’t push. “He’s dangerous, Mari.” “I’m not scared.” She grabbed the forged resume off the table, its pristine pages gleaming with lies, degrees she never earned, jobs she never worked, references that didn’t exist. Her eyes flicked to the wall where her father’s picture stared back at her, threads of red yarn connecting him to Montero Global. “This isn’t just about me, Cam. It’s about him.” “Then get in,” Camila whispered. “But don’t lose yourself in there.” Mariana uploaded her resume to the company portal. Her heart thudded when the confirmation pinged. One step closer. But as she stood there, the gravity of what she’d set in motion hit her. Getting in was the easy part. Staying invisible? That would be the real challenge. The lobby of Montero Global was a cavern of cold marble and chrome, all gleaming surfaces and sterile perfection. Mariana sat stiffly on a leather chair, hands folded over a slim portfolio. She’d memorized the floor plan of the building and every public fact about Diego Montero, but nothing prepared her for the oppressive silence that filled the space. “Miss Cortez?” A clipped voice broke her thoughts. Javier Delgado, Diego’s right-hand man, stood by the elevator. Tall, sharp-suited, with a face carved from stone. His dark hair was slicked back, his eyes calculating. Mariana smiled, calm and collected. “Yes.” Javier didn’t return the smile. “This way.” She followed him up to the thirty-seventh floor, where the view stretched over the city like a king’s domain. Javier gestured for her to sit, his gaze cool as he leafed through her resume. “Impressive credentials,” he murmured. “Thank you,” Mariana replied smoothly, though her pulse throbbed at her throat. Before he could ask the next question, the glass doors swung open. Diego Montero himself walked in. The room changed in an instant. He was magnetic, in the most dangerous way. Midnight-black hair, cut with sharp precision. Slate-gray eyes that locked onto hers with startling intensity. His tailored suit fit him like a second skin, but it wasn’t the clothes that made the man, it was the authority in every step. Mariana’s throat tightened, but she didn’t flinch. “Javier,” Diego drawled, his voice a low hum of velvet over steel. “I’ll handle this one.” After hesitating, Javier nodded curtly and walked away. Diego, his fingers steepled, sat opposite her. "You believe that you can manage my world?" He glanced at her CV and then back at her. Mariana met his gaze head-on. “I don’t scare easily.” For the first time, a glimmer of a smile touched his mouth. Predatory. Curious. “You’re hired,” he said. “Let’s see how long you last.” Her heart raced, not from fear, but from the electric pull she hadn’t anticipated. She was inside. But the game had just begun. The soft click of heels against polished marble echoed through the vast expanse of Montero Global’s top floor. Mariana’s reflection followed her in the glass walls, sharp and pristine in her tailored skirt and blouse, but her heart raced beneath the calm surface. Every step deeper into this fortress felt like dancing on the edge of a knife. She paused at the threshold of Diego Montero’s office. It was cavernous, with floor-to-ceiling windows stretching across one wall, the city sprawled out like his personal kingdom. He stood there, hands clasped behind his back, the early afternoon sun framing him in gold light. His tall frame was sculpted in perfection, broad shoulders tapering to a lean waist, the tailored cut of his suit immaculate. Mariana’s fingers curled into her palm. This man could ruin lives with a single phone call. And I’m going to ruin his. Her entrance didn’t go unnoticed. Diego didn’t turn, but his reflection in the glass shifted, his cold eyes flicking to her, assessing. “You’re late.” His voice was smooth but laced with steel. “I was early,” Mariana replied evenly. A beat of silence. Then, he turned, the faintest tilt of his head acknowledging her defiance. The tension between them stretched thin, electric. “Good. I don’t like timid people.” She gave him a tight smile, walking forward, but her gaze darted quickly around the room, mental blueprints forming. To the left, sleek black bookshelves. To the right, a modern desk, clear of clutter except for a decanter of scotch. And there, half-hidden behind a mirrored panel, her sharp eyes caught the outline of a wall safe. Her breath hitched. That’s where the secrets lived. Diego’s voice snapped her attention back. “You’ll find that I demand loyalty. No mistakes.” “Don’t worry,” she said softly, “I’m very thorough.” His stare lingered for a beat too long before he turned away. Mariana exhaled slowly, adrenaline buzzing in her veins. She was in. But the real game had just begun. And time was already running out.