It had been a week since Mia returned to City X. Seven quiet days — or at least, they should have been.
The city outside her window pulsed with energy, yet inside her small apartment, something felt off. Too quiet. Too smooth.
Every bill she was meant to pay — from Mina's school enrollment to the apartment rent — had been cleared. Automatically. When she tried to ask the landlord, he smiled too easily. "Already settled, Miss Hayes. You're all good."
By who?
She hadn't given anyone her bank details. She hadn't even used the card she'd found on the porch that morning — a sleek, black one, heavy and unmarked except for two silver letters embossed in the corner: G.I.
She'd tucked it into a drawer that same day, certain it wasn't hers. But now… now it felt like everything in her life had started moving on its own.
Mina played quietly on the floor, humming to herself. The child's laughter echoed faintly, grounding Mia for a moment. She exhaled, gripping her coffee mug tighter.
Her phone buzzed — another alert.
"Electricity bill: paid."
Her stomach tightened.
She grabbed the black card from the drawer, turning it over in her hand. It gleamed beneath the light, cold and impersonal, but something about it sent a pulse of unease down her spine.
"Who are you?" she whispered to no one.
When she finally searched the embossed initials — Graves International — her breath caught. The name wasn't unfamiliar. It was everywhere in City X — buildings, hospitals, charities, luxury towers. A name that screamed power.
Mia's pulse raced. The realization came slow but sharp: she wasn't just being helped. She was being managed.
Every payment, every convenience — all of it was part of a pattern. And suddenly, her stay in the small apartment didn't feel random anymore. It felt like a step. A test.
That night, she couldn't sleep. The city's lights blinked faintly through her curtains, and each car that passed sounded too close. Mina slept soundly beside her, unaware of the storm quietly building around them.
The next morning, Mia slipped into her coat, black card tucked into her pocket like a secret weight she couldn't shake. Mina was still asleep, her soft breaths rising and falling, and for a moment Mia hesitated but the curiosity, the need for answers, won. She opened her phone, summoned an Uber, and waited, her fingers drumming nervously against her bag.
When the car pulled up, the driver glanced at her through the rearview mirror. "Graves International?" he asked, eyebrows raised.
"Yes," Mia replied, her voice steady though her stomach flipped.
He shook his head faintly. "That's… not exactly a normal destination," he muttered, almost as if he doubted the legitimacy of her visit. Then, after a pause, he sighed and started the engine.
The ride was tense. The city passed in blurred neon streaks, lights bouncing off rain-slick streets. Mia kept her eyes on the window, mind racing — Why was everything arranged for her? Why now? And why did she feel like she was stepping into someone else's world?
The driver cleared his throat. "You sure about this?" he asked again, and Mia looked at him through the mirror. His expression was a mix of curiosity and caution"yes " a simple answer so as not feed his curiosity.
When the car finally stopped, the building loomed above her — sleek glass towers catching the sunlight in sharp angles. Graves International. The name alone made her pulse quicken. The lobby was polished, cold, and imposing. She swallowed, feeling the weight of the black card in her pocket, and stepped forward.
The receptionist looked up as she approached, eyes sharp and assessing. "Yes?" she asked, her tone clipped, almost hostile.
"I… I'm here to return this," Mia said, holding the card out, her hand trembling slightly. "It… belongs to your company."
The receptionist's eyes narrowed. "Do you have an appointment?"
"No," Mia admitted. "I just—found it. I thought it should be returned."
The receptionist let out a faint sigh, leaning back in her chair. "Mr. Graves doesn't see people without appointments. I'll need your ID."
Mia fumbled in her bag, handing it over, her pulse hammering. There was a hardness to the woman's stare that made Mia feel small, exposed.
The receptionist took Mia's ID and gave her a long, assessing look before picking up the phone. Mia shifted uneasily, her fingers curling around the black card in her hand, the edges pressing into her palm. She felt like a trespasser in a world she didn't belong to.
"Mr. Graves will see you," the receptionist said finally, her tone clipped but with a trace of warning. "Follow me."
Mia followed down a long hallway, the carpet muffling her footsteps, the walls lined with abstract art and glass panels reflecting her own uncertain reflection back at her. Each step felt heavier than the last, her pulse quickening with a mixture of fear, curiosity, and something she couldn't name.
The door to the office was massive, sleek, and foreboding. A hand motioned her inside.
Lucien Graves sat behind an expansive desk, the morning light streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows behind him, catching the sharp angles of his jaw and the dark intensity of his eyes. He didn't stand. He didn't move. He simply watched, waiting, his posture effortless but authoritative.
Mia swallowed. The memory of him catching Mina from the car surged forward — the speed, the certainty, the way he had shielded her child like she was fragile, helpless. And yet now, seeing him here, in all his composed power, she felt a strange flicker of unease. Did he still see her that way? Did he still think she was fragile?
But she still stepped closer, clutching the black card like a shield, and cleared her throat. "I… I found this outside my apartment. I thought it should be returned," she said, placing it gently on the edge of his desk.
Lucien's gaze shifted to the card, then back to her. His expression remained calm, unreadable, yet she could feel the weight behind his eyes — the quiet force of a man used to being in control. He didn't reach for it, didn't move. He simply regarded her, waiting for her to explain herself.
"I… I haven't used it," Mia added quickly, almost defensively. "I didn't even know what it was at first." Her voice trembled slightly, betraying the nervousness she was trying to mask.
He leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled lightly in front of him. "I know," he said evenly, voice low, measured. "That's not why you're here, though, is it?"
Mia blinked, caught off guard. "I… I just… wanted to make sure it got back to you. That's all."
Lucien studied her for a long moment, and for reasons she couldn't explain, Mia felt both exposed and observed — as if he could see every hesitation, every thought she didn't voice. There was no anger in his look, no condescension, yet it carried an undeniable authority that made her stomach tighten.
"City X isn't kind to those who don't understand it," he said finally, his tone neutral but firm, the faintest edge of warning threading through his words. "And yet, here you are. Taking steps you don't fully understand."
Mia's pulse quickened. She remembered the car, the way he had moved to protect Mina. But here, in this office, the dynamic had shifted. She wasn't just a mother; she was a guest in his world, under the scrutiny of someone who could command everything around him without effort.
"I'm not… I'm not here to cause trouble," she said softly, trying to meet his gaze without flinching. "I just… thought I should return it."
Mia moved forward without hesitation and dropped the card and stepped back.
____
I'll drop another chapter soon 🔜
It's getting hard to edit and update my draft plus university stress.ughh I can manage.