Chapter Four: Blood and Paperwork
The weekend came with an eerie calm. No texts. No emails. No cryptic sticky notes on her desk.
But peace was dangerous.
Lara knew it by now—Daniel's silence meant he was watching.
She stayed indoors most of Saturday, her phone on airplane mode, trying to make sense of everything. The notebook, the photos, the word "Awakened."
And that one moment in the elevator—his warning.
> "The truth has a cost."
What truth?
Sunday evening, Lara stood in front of her mirror, staring at her reflection.
She wasn't the same girl who applied for the job two weeks ago.
Her eyes were sharper.
Her hands, steadier.
Fear had turned into curiosity.
And now curiosity was turning into something more dangerous:
Determination.
---
Monday morning was back to routine.
Daniel sat in his office. His door closed, as usual. No one dared disturb him. And Lara?
She wore red.
Not the bright kind—deep wine red, silk blouse, tucked neatly into black pants.
She walked in like she owned the place.
Daniel didn't say a word when he saw her. But the corners of his lips twitched again—that almost-smile.
The game had shifted.
---
At noon, a printer jam forced her into the records room on the third floor—a dusty corner of the building that smelled like ink and forgotten things.
She wasn't meant to be there. Only internal auditors or Daniel himself ever accessed it.
But she had an excuse—file misplacement. Mr. Yakubu signed the slip without even looking.
The room was cold, lights flickering above her.
Rows upon rows of filing cabinets stretched out like a maze.
She wasn't looking for anything in particular… but she also wasn't leaving until she found something.
Ten minutes in, she stumbled across a cabinet labeled: "Client Termination – Confidential".
It was locked.
Of course.
But Lara had watched Daniel unlock one just like it last week. He used a code—one she'd memorized from his hand movement: 1-4-0-8.
His birthday.
She tried it.
Click.
Open.
Inside were folders labeled with names and dates. Some names she recognized—former clients, terminated contracts.
But one caught her eye: Amanda Obi.
Her hands trembled as she pulled it out.
The file was thin.
Inside: a non-disclosure agreement, a medical clearance form, and a single photo.
Amanda, smiling. But her eyes were swollen. Her arm was in a sling.
Medical clearance?
The form was signed by a private doctor—and beneath it, scribbled in fine print, were the words:
> "Incident classified as internal accident. Cleared for release upon request."
Release?
Where had she gone?
There was no resignation letter. No termination slip. Nothing that said Amanda had left on her own.
Just silence.
And that picture.
Lara turned it over—and froze.
On the back, in red ink: "Unstable. Compromised."
---
She slid the folder back and kept digging.
Another name surfaced: Michael Adeyemi.
Another former employee.
Same thing: accident report. Confidential notes. A photo.
On the back: "Uncooperative. Red flagged."
Lara's head spun.
This wasn't a business.
It was a system.
A filtering process. People came in, were tested, observed… and either released, removed, or flagged.
And what about her?
Where did she fit in?
She checked the drawer again. Her name wasn't there.
Not yet.
---
The next day, Daniel called her into his office without warning.
She walked in cautiously, every nerve on high alert.
"Close the door," he said.
She obeyed.
He was standing by the window, hands in his pockets. His voice was calm, almost casual.
"How was your weekend?"
"Quiet."
"I hope you rested. You'll need your energy."
"For what?"
He turned to face her, smiling softly. "We're flying to Abuja tomorrow. Company retreat. Just the two of us."
Lara blinked. "Why me?"
"You're my assistant."
"There are other assistants."
"None like you."
His tone made her skin prickle. She wasn't sure if it was a compliment or a threat.
"Is it work-related?" she asked carefully.
Daniel walked toward his desk and placed a small, black envelope in front of her.
"Inside is your itinerary. Hotel key, private jet details, and… something else."
She opened it.
Inside was a folded letter.
Typed. Neatly signed.
CONFIDENTIAL ASSESSMENT: LARA I. NWAEZE
> Subject has demonstrated strong emotional resilience.
Cognitive awareness is above standard.
Curiosity threshold exceeded within 10-day window.
Recommend transition to Phase Two.
Status: Stable. Observed. Suitable.
Her fingers went cold.
"What is this?"
He leaned on the desk, arms crossed. "A test."
"I'm not—"
"You passed," he interrupted.
Lara met his eyes.
There was no smugness this time. No smirk.
Only honesty.
"You've been watching me?"
"Yes."
"Since the day I walked in?"
"Before that."
She stepped back.
"This is illegal. It's… it's sick."
Daniel tilted his head. "Yet you stayed. You kept digging. You broke into the photo room. You opened that notebook."
Her heart pounded.
"You wanted me to," she whispered.
He smiled again.
"I needed to know if you were real."
---
The next morning, she sat beside him on the jet, pretending not to panic as clouds passed beneath them.
He offered her coffee. She didn't take it.
Two hours later, they landed in Abuja and checked into a private villa far from the city.
No staff. No distractions. Just them.
"I thought this was a retreat," she said.
"It is."
"No team?"
"You're the team."
Lara didn't answer. But she kept her eyes open.
Something was coming. She could feel it.
---
That night, she couldn't sleep.
So she wandered the hallway of the villa.
Then she saw it—an open door at the end. The light inside flickering.
A study?
She stepped in.
Bookshelves lined the walls, and on the center table, a folder with her name on it.
No lock. No seal.
Just sitting there, waiting.
She opened it.
Photos of her childhood.
Her at 12, riding a bicycle.
Her at 16, in her secondary school uniform.
A medical file—her blood type, allergies, even a note about her surgery at 21.
How did he get these?
Her voice caught in her throat.
Then she saw it—a photo of her mother. Dated two years ago.
Dead.
Lara backed away, heart slamming.
"You were never random," a voice said behind her.
She spun.
Daniel stood at the doorway, shirt unbuttoned at the collar, eyes shadowed in the dim light.
"What is this?" she demanded.
"The truth."
"You've been tracking me since before I applied?"
He nodded.
"Why?"
"Because I needed to know if you were like her."
"Who?"
He took a breath. "Your mother."
Lara froze.
"What does she have to do with this?"
Daniel stepped forward. "She worked for us. Fifteen years ago. She was part of the original program."
"What program?"
He smiled bitterly. "The one you're now part of.
"
---
[End of Chapter Four – Word Count: ~1,505]
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