Chapter Five
The Man In The Shadows
Three weeks into the job, TitanLux felt like a vault I was not supposed to enter.
By now, I could tell Damian Westwood's mood by the tilt of his head, the tightness in his jaw, and the exact angle he held his Montblanc pen. But for every secret I discovered, two more emerged—deeper and colder.
That morning, I arrived early again. Damian was already in his office, the door closed, and speaking quietly on the phone in French. His voice was low, firm, and tense. I waited until the call ended and then brought in the project file he requested.
He did not look up.
"I will be out of the country for two days. Geneva. You will remain here during my absence. Track the Durov contract's progress. Miranda will keep you in the loop."
"Understood," I replied. Is there anything else?
His gaze met mine—something unreadable there.
"If anything happens," he said slowly, "do not believe anyone but Miranda. And do not open the Vault."
"The vault?"
However, he was already turning away. "Forget I said it."
That night, I did not forget.
TitanLux's digital vault was off-grid and only accessible with Damian's private server Level 7 clearance. But I was not attempting to hack it.
I only wanted to find the schedule for the Geneva trip. He would left abruptly, and something felt off.
Instead, I discovered a file folder named simply:
CHP-0: Gray.
It was locked. Access is only via biometrics. Nonetheless, it drew me in.
The metadata indicated that it had last been opened seven months ago. But what drew my attention was a thumbnail preview image within the file. A man. His face was shadowed.
He looked eerily similar to Damian.
But it was not him.
I blinked. The preview was gone.
Then, abruptly, my screen glitched, followed by a message:
> "He has not died."
I just stared.
An additional message appeared:
> "Do not trust the person who made you feel safe."
I jerked back. The heart is thudding.
My phone vibrated.
Unknown number.
No caller ID.
I did not respond.
---Miranda called me into her office the following day.
She seemed tired. Angry. But mostly, I am scared.
"Who granted you access to the internal biometric archive?" she inquired quietly.
"I did not gain access to anything. I just saw a file. CHP-0. It was already visible— "
"Grey Chapman," she said, interrupting me.
I stiffened.
"Do not repeat that name," she warned. "Especially not with Damian."
"Why?" I asked. "Who was he?"
Miranda leaned forward and lowered her voice.
"He was Damian's best friend." His shadow. His fixer. The only person who could tell Damian he was mistaken and live to see the next morning."
"What happened with him?"
"He was ambushed while participating in a covert TitanLux operation in Algeria. The body never recovered. Damian spent half a year tearing apart our own security network in an attempt to find the leak."
"Do you think he is still alive?"
Miranda looked away.
"I think someone wants us to think he is. Someone has dragged you into a dangerous situation.
---That night, I sat alone in my apartment, lights turned off, heart racing.
My phone turned on again.
This time, it was a photo.
Gray Chapman is still alive. In Paris.
The image appeared grainy. But it was him.
Damian Westwood was standing behind him in the blurred background.