Chapter 2 - THE MIDNIGHT AUDITThe silence in the kitchen stretched so thin it felt like spun glass.
Kira’s mind raced through a thousand terrifying scenarios. For seven years, she had lived like a ghost. She had buried Dr. Kira Vance so deep that even her own reflection in the cracked mirror of her dingy apartment felt like a stranger. She had scrubbed floors, cleaned silver, emptied trash cans, and kept her head down, all to outrun a scandal that wasn't even hers—a corrupt mentor who had tried to pin illegal pharmaceutical testing on her student ID, a fire that had consumed her future, and a shadow organization that still hunted anyone who knew too much about their illicit animal smuggling rings.
And now, the most dangerous man in the city was kneeling in front of her, casually reciting her execution history.
"You're going to fire me," Kira said, her voice shockingly steady, though her heart hammered like a trapped bird against her ribs. "Or worse. Hand me over to the people who wrote my discharge papers."
Grant didn't answer immediately. He stood up slowly, towering over the kitchen floor, and walked over to the counter. He picked up the stainless-steel kettle, poured himself a glass of cold water, and drank it in silence.
Reed stood rigidly by the door, eyeing Kira as if she were a live grenade with the pin pulled.
"Fire you?" Grant finally set the glass down with a sharp clack. He turned back around, leaning against the marble counter and crossing his arms. "Kira, my estate is currently hemorrhaging money, my international shipping routes are being audited by federal agents who somehow know our exact manifests, and three of my top kennel managers have come down with a mysterious, rapid-onset poisoning over the last month."
He paused, his dark eyes locking onto hers.
"My prize-winning imported bloodhounds are dying of a degenerative neurological disorder that none of my high-paid veterinary consultants can diagnose. And you think I’m going to fire the only person within a fifty-mile radius who just brought a flatline neonate back to life with a plastic straw and sheer stubborn will?"
Kira blinked, her confusion momentarily cutting through her terror. "What?"
"Effective immediately," Grant said, his tone shifting into the cold, unarguable cadence of a CEO issuing an executive order, "you are no longer a night-shift housekeeper."
Reed’s jaw dropped. "Boss, wait—"
"Reed," Grant cut him off sharply. "Get the east-wing medical suite prepped. Move Luna and her litter there within the hour. And get Dr. Hayes on the phone. Tell him his services are no longer required. His contract is terminated."
"Terminated?" Reed stared at his boss in sheer disbelief. "Hayes has been with us for a decade! He’s a legend in pedigree breeding!"
"Hayes is a hack," Grant said coldly, pushing off the counter and walking toward Kira. He stopped just a foot away, looking down at her still kneeling form. "Or he’s a traitor. Either way, he missed a seventh pup, and he missed the systemic infection spreading through my kennel. But she didn't."
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Grant looked down at the tiny puppy, which was now letting out soft, rhythmic squeaks wrapped tightly in Kira's towel. Caesar shifted his heavy body, resting his massive chin across Kira’s ankles, effectively trapping her in place—not as a prisoner, but as a protected asset.
"Well, Dr. Vance?" Grant extended a single, well-manicured hand down toward her. "Are you going to stay on the floor all night, or are you going to help me save my kennel?"
