I could sense his fear, and he was scared shitless.
He leaned back in the chair, his expression calm but his fingers tapped against the armrest betrayed the nerves beneath his composure.
"What do you mean?" he asked, his lips curving into that half-smile I'd seen him flash the first day we met. "Is this a threat, Miss Vale?"
I laughed low, unhurried. Then without answering, I turned my chair toward the window, facing the sprawling city below, my back deliberately to him.
"I don't do threats, Mr. Cole," I said, tracing the rim of my mug with my finger. "I simply state facts. It's the difference between confidence and stupidity. But you, on the other hand, seem to dance beautifully on that thin line."
He didn't respond right away, but I could feel his eyes on me, the way a prey studies it's predator.
"For a man who likes to run his mouth," I continued, my voice almost playful, "you're impressive. You speak so easily about things you don't understand, especially when those things might not be human."
When I finally turned my chair around, he looked pale, but not the kind that came from fear alone, but from realization. The kind that creeps in when your instincts whisper you shouldn't have come here.
"So Ethan," I murmured, standing and slowly circling the desk, "what if I'm not human? What if I decided right now, to kill you and make your body disappear? What would the world say?"
He swallowed hard, but still, he didn't move.
"They'd call it an accident," I said, stopping in front of him. "They'd say you stepped on the wrong toes, because everyone knows I'm not someone you cross… yet somehow, you thought it would be wise to be an exception."
My gaze locked on his, daring him to blink. "So tell me, what gave you the audacity? Is this courage or is this just an attempt to get my attention?"
He drew in a slow breath, and for a fleeting moment, I admired that he didn't stammer when he finally spoke.
"It wasn't just to get your attention," he said, his tone firm, although his hand slightly trembled when he ran it through his hair. "I know who you are, Miss vale. I know what people say about you. You're dangerous, ruthless and untouchable. Ofcourse I won't be stupid enough to come down here unless, it really mattered. But i won't be intimidated by your money or power either. I believe the truth must be out in the open for everyone to see."
My lips curved. "Ah. So you're the noble journalist. The moral compass in a broken world. So tell me, what exactly is 'this truth' you claim to know about me or my company."
He opened his bag, then pulled out a thick journal with it's pages marked and tabbed. "There have been several disappearances," he said, flipping it open. "Linked to your company and I've been following it for months. Anyone who works in your company doesn't stay for more than 4 years, and when they leave, they go missing. Gone.
There are no records, no contacts. It's as if they never existed. And whenever I try to talk to someone who once knew them, they suddenly back away or change their mind, claiming they can't talk to me again, like they've been threatened to keep quiet."
He looked up from the journal. "So tell me, Miss Vale, what exactly are you running here?"
For a moment, silence filled the room. Then I laughed, this time louder, as I moved closer until I was standing right in front of him.
"I don't know how I am involved in all this, and you sound ridiculous right now." I asked, leaning down with my hands on the armrest of his chair. "I have hundreds of employees, Ethan. Do you really think I have time to keep track of their personal lives? And technically, I can't force anyone to stay when they've made up their mind to leave."
His jaw flexed, but I wasn't done.
"Do you know that anyone would die to work in my company? Because, not only do I pay my staff well," I went on. "I give them bonuses and incentives, they get flexible work hours, and I always reward those who work hard. So if someone chooses to leave, that's their decision.
And as for your little theory, that's insane…" I smiled coldly. "But I'd suggest you find really good proof before you accuse me of anything. And I know for a fact, that journalists are supposed to think with their head, and not with their emotions."
I straightened up, gently moving away from him. "Maybe you should consider a career change before you ruin yourself with reckless assumptions."
He exhaled, slow and heavy. Then, to my surprise, he chuckled. "You're right," he said, closing the journal and tucking it back into his bag. "Maybe I'm reckless, maybe I'm just chasing shadows. But you know what's funny?"
He rose from the chair, his eyes meeting mine squarely. "The more I talk to you, the more I'm certain that I'm right. You're definitely hiding something, and I'm gonna find it. Be rest assured that when I do, I'll bring it to you myself face to face.
I tilted my head, amused. "Do you think I'd run?"
He smiled faintly. "No. I know you won't. Rather you'll stand and fight."
That, I had to admit, earned him a small, genuine smirk from me. "Then don't be silly," I said softly. "I have nothing to hide, Ethan. But if you ever need anything for your investigation, don't hesitate to ask. My assistant will handle it."
He studied me for a while longer before nodding. "Thank you for your time, Miss Vale."
He slung the bag over his shoulder, the leather strap creasing his white shirt. Then he turned for the door.
"Ethan," I called out just before he reached it.
He paused, glancing over his shoulder.
"You have a bright future ahead of you," I said, smiling faintly. "Don't be foolish enough to ruin it over nonsense. I'm sure you understand what I mean."
Our eyes met again. His were dark, steady, and unflinching. Then he smiled, and walked out.
The door clicked softly behind him.
For a long while, I just stood there, watching my reflection on the glass. "My empire, my creation, my kingdom. No one touches it and lives to brag about it." I said to myself.
A knock on the door. "Ms. Vale," Nicole's voice came through, bright and slightly breathless.
"Come in," I said, turning toward the desk.
She burst in, her eyes wide with excitement. "The article's been taken down!" she blurted, almost bouncing. "And the company issued a public apology. They said they're willing to compensate for any damage caused—"
I scoffed softly, cutting her off. "They can't afford me, Nicole. Their pocket change won't even scratch the surface. So there's no need for that."
She laughed nervously. "Anyways, I also checked the market, our stocks are up by ten percent since this morning. People are praising how you handled the matter, and investors are already reaching out again."
"Of course they are," I said, smoothing the edge of my sleeve. "It takes more than just cheap gossip to bring me down. At least some of them are smart enough to recognize real power when they see it."
Nicole nodded quickly. "Should I contact your stylist? You mentioned you have something later this afternoon."
"Yes," I said, turning back toward the window. "Do that. I'll be ready in an hour."
She smiled, bowed slightly and left the office.
The moment the door shut, I exhaled, the faintest trace of a smirk curling at my lips.
I opened my laptop, scrolling through the news feeds. My name was everywhere, splashed across headlines, every photo carefully curated, every quote exactly what I wanted the world to see.
Control. That was my art.
In this part of the world, money and power didn't just open doors. They built kingdoms, and I've built mine brick by bloody brick.
I picked up my phone and dialed a number from memory.
A man's voice answered, low, husky, but sexy.
"My lady."
"Damn it," I said coldly, staring at the screen. I told you to be careful, now we've got some sorry ass wannabe reporter snooping around. Make sure this doesn't escalated, or it'll be your head instead."