The elevator doors closed behind me, and the soft hum of machinery filled the silence. My reflection wavered in the polished metal — pale skin, tired eyes, white hair that wouldn't stay in place. I pressed the forty-second-floor button and tried not to think about the man's lifeless body collapsing to the floor.
I hadn't told anyone. Not a single soul.
The secret sat in my chest like a stone I couldn't swallow.
When the doors opened, I stepped out into the buzz of Nexora's PR department — keyboards clattering, phones ringing, shoes tapping over marble. Everything looked so normal it made my stomach twist. How could normal still exist when I'd seen that?
I set my bag on my desk, forced a smile at the intern beside me, and logged in. My hands trembled so badly I had to steady them on the keyboard.
"Another day, huh?" she said brightly.
"Yeah," I answered, the word scraping out dry.
The lie sat heavy between us.
Emails flooded in — client updates, press approvals, meeting reminders. I focused on the words until they blurred. Anything to keep my mind from replaying Damian Cross's face — calm, cruel, certain.
When I looked up, I saw him.
Jacob Reed.
He sat a few desks away, head bent over his computer, dark hair falling over his forehead. His white shirt sleeves were rolled up, wristwatch glinting under the office lights. He looked composed, like someone who knew exactly where he fit in this machine.
But I'd caught him looking at me before. Not flirtatious — searching. Almost like he was waiting for me to confirm something.
He looked up now, our eyes meeting across the room. My pulse jumped. He didn't look away right away — he just studied me, like he was trying to read my thoughts.
I turned back to my screen.
Stop overthinking, Lily. He's just another coworker.
But a voice deep down whispered, Then why does he look like he's hiding something too?
The morning dragged.
Every meeting blurred into the next. Mr. Jung's voice echoed across the table, talking about public image and corporate transparency, and all I could think was how the company's hands were stained in blood.
When it ended, I slipped away toward the hallway that led to the elevators. I needed air.
But halfway there, I heard something.
"…the board's vote never happened," someone hissed behind a half-closed conference door.
"Doesn't matter," another replied. "Cross handled it personally."
The name hit me like a slap. I froze, fingers tightening on my folder.
Damian Cross.
The door creaked — I ducked around the corner. A shadow passed over the glass, and for a split second, I swore I saw Damian himself walking past. Impeccably dressed, eyes like steel. The air around him changed the room — colder, sharper.
He didn't see me. Thank God.
I waited until his footsteps faded before stepping out. My legs felt like glass, my throat dry.
I almost didn't notice Jacob standing near the copy room.
"You shouldn't eavesdrop around here," he said quietly.
I froze. "I wasn't—"
"You were," he interrupted, but his tone wasn't accusing. It was warning. "Just… be careful."
Something in his voice told me he wasn't talking about office gossip.
"Why are you telling me this?" I asked, pulse racing.
He looked at me for a long moment before answering. "Because I think you already know what kind of place this is."
I opened my mouth to reply — to ask what he meant — but someone called his name from down the hall. He turned, nodding once before walking away.
I watched him go, unease curling in my stomach.
He knows. He saw something too.
Jacob's reflection ghosted across his monitor, eyes half-focused. I'd said too much. I'd seen the panic in her face when I mentioned the company. I shouldn't have done that. But she reminded me too much of myself — the version of me from before I learned to keep quiet.
The secret we shared bound us like invisible thread. I wasn't sure if it would save her or destroy her.
I opened a hidden folder on my desktop — encrypted, buried three levels deep. Photos. Reports. Security logs. All evidence of Nexora's dealings — money laundering, bribes, and worse. My brother's face stared back from one of the files, smiling in an old photo, before he "disappeared."
He'd worked for Cross once too.
A knock startled me. I clicked the window closed.
"Reed, got those numbers yet?" one of the analysts asked.
"Almost," I said, forcing calm into my voice. "Give me a few minutes."
When the man left, I leaned back and exhaled. My pulse still hadn't slowed.
If Cross found out what I was doing, I'd end up like the others — buried under some report labeled employee termination.
And now Lily Hart was caught in it too.
The rain came down heavy that afternoon. Through the glass walls, the city looked like a painting blurred by tears. Most people had gone home early; the office was quieter than usual.
I stayed, pretending to work, waiting for the system to finish encrypting my files.
Then I saw her again — Lily, sitting by her desk, eyes shadowed, staring at the storm outside.
She looked like she wanted to disappear.
I stood, hesitating, then walked over.
"You're still here," I said softly.
She looked up, startled. "So are you."
"Guess we both like punishment."
That earned a faint smile from her, small but real.
"Couldn't finish everything," she said. "Deadlines, you know."
Her voice trembled slightly. I pretended not to notice. "Right. Deadlines."
I wanted to tell her everything — about the files, about what Cross had done, about the people who vanished after asking too many questions. But saying any of it aloud would make it real. And real got people killed.
She leaned back in her chair, exhaling slowly. "Do you ever get the feeling this place isn't what it looks like?"
Her eyes met mine — searching, desperate.
I swallowed hard. "Every day."
For a heartbeat, neither of us spoke. The hum of the lights filled the silence, steady and cold.
Then a sound broke through — a low ping from her computer. She frowned and turned to check it.
A new message flashed on her screen. No sender. No subject. Just one line:
You shouldn't have seen that.
Her hand flew to her mouth.
"Lily?" I stepped closer.
She stared at the screen, color draining from her face. "It's him," she whispered.
The lights flickered once, dimming for half a second before returning to full brightness. Somewhere deep in the building, a door slammed.
"Don't say anything," I murmured, glancing around. "Just shut it off."
"I— I can't—"
"Do it," I hissed, hitting the power button myself. The screen went dark.
For a second, neither of us breathed.
When she finally looked at me, there was fear — but also something else. Recognition.
"You've seen it too," she said quietly.
I didn't answer. I didn't have to.
The air between us buzzed like static. I could hear my pulse in my ears, loud, uneven.
"Tell me the truth," I whispered. "You saw him too, didn't you?"
Jacob's jaw tightened. He looked toward the glass wall, where the rain drew thin silver lines down the surface. "This isn't a place for the truth, Lily."
"Then where is?" My voice cracked. "Because I'm losing my mind pretending I didn't see what I saw."
His eyes came back to mine, dark and tired. "That's how they want you to feel."
"What are you talking about?"
He hesitated, then shook his head. "Nothing. Just… go home. Get some rest."
I wanted to scream. Instead, I grabbed my bag and turned toward the elevators. The floor felt unsteady beneath my heels. I didn't make it far before he caught my wrist.
"Wait."
The word came out softer than I expected.
When I faced him, his hand dropped, but the ghost of his touch lingered.
"You're not safe here," he said quietly.
"Neither are you."
His mouth twitched — not a smile, more like a confession he couldn't give voice to. "I've been unsafe for a long time."
The elevator doors opened behind me. I stepped inside without looking back, but I could feel his gaze following me all the way down.
The train ride home blurred past in streaks of light and rain. I sat by the window, gripping my phone, half expecting another message. Nothing came.
When I reached my apartment, the quiet felt wrong. Too still. I locked the door twice and leaned against it, trying to breathe.
The message kept flashing in my head. You shouldn't have seen that.
I turned on the shower just to drown out my thoughts. Steam filled the room, fogging the mirror, but the image wouldn't fade — Damian's calm face, the sound of that final breath.
I pressed my hands to my temples. "You're okay," I told myself. "You're okay."
But deep down, I didn't believe it.
Jacob couldn't sleep either. He sat in his dark apartment, blinds half-drawn, laptop open. The rain drummed against the window like a warning he'd already ignored.
He replayed the moment on the forty-second floor — Lily's wide eyes, the glow of her monitor, the message that shouldn't have reached her.
Someone inside Nexora had noticed.
He opened a secure drive, fingers hovering over a file labeled Cross_Audio_Log3. For a second he almost clicked it — then stopped. If Lily's computer had been breached, his was next.
A low buzz filled the room: his phone. Unknown number.
He answered without speaking.
A pause. Then a distorted voice. "You're slipping, Reed."
His stomach knotted. "Who is this?"
"You think we don't see what you're doing?" The voice was smooth, amused. "You should've deleted her the moment she became a problem."
The line went dead.
Jacob's grip tightened around the phone until his knuckles turned white. They know about her.
The next morning, I almost didn't go to work. I sat on my bed with my coffee growing cold, staring at my reflection. Dark circles, pale skin, the kind of exhaustion that seeps into bone.
But not showing up would look suspicious. So I went.
When I reached my desk, Jacob was already there. He looked worse than yesterday — the faint shadow of sleeplessness under his eyes, tension in his shoulders.
"Rough night?" he asked, voice low.
"You could say that."
He glanced around, then handed me a folded slip of paper. "Don't read it here."
"What is it?"
"Proof," he said. "Maybe."
I slipped it into my pocket before Mr. Jung walked by. The man's eyes lingered on us a moment too long. I forced a smile; Jacob didn't bother.
After he left, Jacob whispered, "Meet me at the café across the street after five."
"Why?"
"Because you deserve to know what you're caught in."
The hours crawled by. I typed words I couldn't feel, answered calls I didn't hear. At five sharp, I slipped out, heart pounding.
The café was nearly empty, warm light spilling over polished tables. Jacob sat by the window, nursing a black coffee. He looked up when I entered.
"You came."
"You asked," I said, sliding into the seat across from him.
For a while neither of us spoke. The city outside moved like a heartbeat — restless, constant.
Finally he said, "You think Nexora's clean?"
"No."
He nodded. "Good. Because it isn't. They've been laundering money through shell fronts for years — energy, media, fake charities. The board member Cross killed?" He paused. "He was going to expose it."
My throat went dry. "And you… you know all this how?"
"Because I used to work in their audit division. My brother did too. He disappeared last year."
The silence between us thickened. I could feel my pulse in my fingertips.
"I'm sorry," I whispered.
Jacob looked down at his hands. "Don't be. I stayed to finish what he started."
I leaned forward. "Then let me help."
He shook his head. "It's not help I need. It's survival."
Before I could respond, a vibration rattled the table — my phone. A new text. Unknown number again.
You talk too much, Miss Hart.
My breath hitched. I showed him the screen. His expression darkened.
"We have to leave. Now."
The street outside glistened from rain, neon light pooling in puddles. Jacob's hand brushed mine as he pulled me into an alley beside the café.
"Stay close," he murmured.
We ducked behind a delivery truck. Across the street, two men in black coats scanned the café window. One of them spoke into an earpiece.
"They followed you," Jacob said under his breath.
"What do we do?"
He looked around, calculating. "There's a service entrance behind Nexora's west wing. I can lose them there."
"I'm not leaving you."
He almost smiled, bitter and tired. "I'm the one who dragged you into this."
The men started crossing the street.
"Jacob—"
"Go," he said, voice low but urgent. "Don't look back."
But I did.
He turned the other way, walking calmly, shoulders straight, like a man heading into battle. The streetlight caught in the rain, tracing silver down his face.
A car engine roared somewhere nearby. I ducked behind a corner, heart hammering.
"Please be okay," I whispered.
He wasn't okay. Not yet. But he moved fast, disappearing through the alley network he'd memorized months ago. When he finally reached a side door of Nexora, he keyed in an old override code.
Inside, the building felt colder than usual — the kind of cold that seeps into bones and secrets.
He made it to the server room, lights blinking in the dim. He uploaded the files he'd been gathering, every line of evidence against Cross, and set the transfer to an anonymous cloud address.
Halfway through, his phone buzzed again. A text.
Too late, Reed.
Then the monitors flickered — one by one — until only his reflection stared back.
Somewhere in the silence, he heard footsteps. Slow, deliberate.
Damian Cross stepped out of the shadows, immaculate as always.
"I warned you about digging," he said.
Jacob straightened. "And yet here you are."
Cross smiled faintly. "You think you can expose me? You've already lost."
"I've lost before," Jacob said. "It didn't stop me then."
They stared at each other across the humming servers, the storm outside flashing white through the glass.
Cross stepped closer, voice almost gentle. "Then you'll end like your brother."
Before Jacob could move, the system behind him beeped — transfer complete.
He smiled faintly. "Already done."
Cross's expression faltered just enough for Jacob to slip past him, sprinting through the corridor.
He didn't stop until he reached the street. The rain hit his face like fire. Somewhere behind him, alarms began to wail.
By the time I reached home that night, soaked and shaking, I had three missed calls from an unknown number.
When the fourth one came, I almost ignored it. Almost.
I answered.
"Lily," Jacob's voice said, breathless. "I did it. I got the files out."
Relief flooded through me, sharp and bright. "Are you safe?"
"For now." A pause. "You need to leave the city. Tonight."
"I'm not leaving you."
The silence stretched, filled with everything we hadn't said yet.
Then softly, "Then we run together."
I looked out my window. The Nexora Tower loomed in the distance, its lights flickering against the storm. For the first time since I'd started working there, I wasn't afraid of it.
Because fear had turned into purpose.
And purpose, I realized, was the only way to survive.
To be continued…