AMARA
Her phone buzzed on the conference table.
Amara glanced at it, it was an unknown number.
She turned it face-down and looked back at the twenty people staring at her.
"Run the projections again," she said.
Across the table, Rakesh, who always double-checked everything anyway, who'd probably run those numbers five times already, frowned slightly.
"We already validated…"
Amara looked at him.
He stopped.
A beat passed.
"Run them again," she repeated. Softer this time. She was just certain, not angry.
Rakesh quickly nodded, "Alright."
Once again, the room went quiet.
Amara tried to keep her shoulders relaxed. If she let even a little tension show, they'd feel it. And if they felt it, they'd definitely start asking questions.
She didn't have answers yet.
"We're too close to get careless," she said, glancing around the table. "One mistake and this contract disappears." She snapped her fingers. "Just like that."
No one smiled.
"Understood?"
They nodded and quietly agreed. Their eyes avoided hers just enough to show respect and fear.
She used to hate that look, but now she relied on it.
"Meeting adjourned."
Chairs scraped, papers shuffled, people filtered out, careful not to brush too close.
Amara didn't move until the last person stepped out. She then dropped her shoulders.
The pen she'd been holding slipped from her hand and hit the table with a soft tap.
Her hand ached. Red marks pressed tightly into her palm.
You're holding everything too tight.
She ignored the thought, and reached for her files.
"Still pretending you don't feel pressure?" Said Naomi
Amara didn't turn. "I'm not pretending, there is pressure."
Naomi walked closer, stopping across from her. "That's not what I meant."
Amara stacked papers so neatly that edges aligned, corners were straight. Something she could control.
"You're squeezing this whole thing like if you let go, it'll fall apart," Naomi said quietly.
Amara's hands stilled.
Amarastoppedmovingher hands for a second. "Because it might."
"Mara..." Naomi said softly.
Amara shook her head, cutting her off before this turned into something she didn't want to entertain.
"Did you review the compliance notes?"
Naomi didn't answer right away.
And that silence made something uneasy crawl up Amara's spine.
"What?" Amara asked, finally looking up.
"They've been around," she said carefully.
Amara's stomach dropped. "Who?"
"The Hale Group."
The name landed quietly, but felt very loud.
Amara looked away and reached for a file she didn't need.
"No." She said it so fast.
Naomi's brows pulled together. "You didn't even let me finish."
"I don't need you to." Amara kept her voice steady, but her fingers had started moving again, straightening papers that were already straight.
"We're not working with them."
"They're not asking to work with us, they'recircling". Naomi said.
Amara shook her head. "Let them."
"Amara."
Said Naomi with a serious, annoyingly calm tone.
They're asking questions," Naomi continued. "Specific ones."
Amara's hands stopped moving for a second.
"People ask questions all the time Naomi."
"Not like this." Naomi stepped closer. "They asked about our funding structure, margins, even the second-phase trial timeline."
Amara looked up slowly. "That information isn't public."
"I know."
The room suddenly felt smaller as if the walls had shifted closer.
"They're guessing, big companies do that. They analyze, they predict…." Said Amara with a thin voice.
"They weren't predicting. They were right."
There was silence.
Amara's throat went dry.
She turned toward the glass wall. The city stretched out below, busy, alive, normal.
Her reflection stared back composed and untouched.
A lie she wore well.
"They're trying to intimidate us," she said.
Naomi didn't answer.
The was a heavy and pressing silence.
"We don't need them," Amara said.
Stronger now, more like herself.
Naomi studied her for a long moment. "Okay."
But it didn't sound like agreement.
It sounded like letting go, and that somehow felt worse. After Naomi left, the office felt colder, or maybe it was just her.
Amara dropped the files onto her desk, too hard, she then pressed her fingers briefly against her temple.
Everything was on track, and working.
So why did this feel wrong?
Her phone buzzed. She'd had forgotten about it. She frowned, while reaching for it.
It was an unknown Number.
Her thumb hovered before she opened it.
We need to talk. Tomorrow. 10 AM. My office.
She stared at the screen.
Who...
The second message came instantly.
Don't make me come find you.
Something about the wording felt wrong, too familiar, and too controlled.
Then…
'...D'
Her chest tightened.
No.
That doesn't…
Her phone buzzed and an image loaded. Her breath stopped. She couldn't move or react, her brain hadn't caught up yet, but her gut had.
She knew that file. The layout, the formatting, even the slight margin error on page two she'd been meaning to fix.
Her funding proposal. Private, locked, and secured. Her fingers tightened around her phone. She saw the red ink. Thick, slashed across the top like someone hadn't just rejected it, but marked and claimed it.
It was written NOT SUITABLE.
Her stomach dropped.
"No..." she whispered.
It didn't sound like her voice. It sounded smaller.Her mind raced fast, messy, and loud.
Who has access? Naomi? No.
Internal server? Secured.
Board? Limited view only.
Then how…?
Her chest rose sharply. It was almost like she was running out of breath.This wasn't just access, it was an intrusion. Someone had gone inside, looked through her work, touched it, then Judged it.
Her hand started to shake, then she clenched it.
Think Amara.
The phone buzzed, she flinched.
Another message came in:
You always hated losing control.
The words blurred. She blinked and slowly read them again, and just like that, something old cracked open inside her.
A memory she didn't invite.
A voice she hadn't heard in five years.
Low, calm, certain.
Dominic.
Her chest tightened so hard that it hurt.
"No," she whispered again, shaking her head. "No, no... this can't be"
But the feeling was already there. The same feeling he used to give her. Like he saw everything. Like nothing she did was ever fully out of his reach. Her fingers dug into the edge of the desk.
How?
How are you inside my company?
Her eyes dropped back to the image, the red ink, the way it cut across her work like it didn't matter. Anger flared, hot and sharp.
Underneath the anger was fear, not loud but obvious.
Amara straightened slowly, forcing her breathing to becomenormal.
Control it Amara, control yourself.
Her thoughts wouldn't slow down.
If he has this... what else does he have?
Who else has he been watching?
The room suddenly felt wrong and unsafe like it wasn't hers.
She turned her eyes to the glass walls.Clear, open, and exposed.Like anyone could be looking in.She pressed her palm against the cold surface of the strong glass. She swallowed hard, holding her phone tighter.
"He's been inside..." she whispered.
Not just her company, not just her files, something deeper. Something she thought she'd buried five years ago. Now he was back, not asking or waiting, just taking, and the worst part? He wanted her to know.
Her jaw tightened.
Ten AM. His office.
She could and should ignore it, but the file on her screen, the red ink slashed across her work. He'd already taken something, and if she didn't go, he'd probably take more.
Her hand shook as she put the phone down.
Fine.
If he wanted to talk, he'd talk, but not on his terms. Never again. She said to herself.