Eric leaned against the office wall, the dim emergency lights casting long shadows across the marble floor. Outside the glass partition, the last of the cleaning staff had finally left, their chatter fading into the night. The building was eerily quiet now—a stillness that felt like the eye of a storm.
He glanced sideways. Lena stood only a few feet away, arms folded, staring at her phone like it had personally betrayed her. The sharpness in her gaze, however, wasn't directed at him—not anymore. Something had shifted between them. Since that night in the server room, when they had found themselves pressed together, hiding from the security patrol, their interactions had taken on a strange, magnetic charge.
Neither of them mentioned it.
But it lingered. In the tension of their silences. In the quick glances. In the way Lena had stopped calling him "useless" in front of others.
Now, she broke the silence. "They're not going to let this go, Eric. The more we dig, the more dangerous it gets."
Eric pushed off the wall, stepping closer. "Which is why we can't stop. You saw the backup files—we're not just dealing with financial fraud. Someone's laundering millions through shell subsidiaries. This goes all the way up."
Lena turned to him sharply. "You think I don't know that?" she snapped, then caught herself. Her voice softened. "I've staked everything on this job. And now…"
"You're not alone in this," Eric said, his voice low.
The words hung between them. Lena looked at him—not with contempt, not with her usual aloofness, but with something rawer. Warier.
Before either could speak again, Lena's phone buzzed violently.
She unlocked it.
One new message. No sender ID.
"Stop digging, Lena. Or next time, we won't miss."
Her face went pale.
Eric stepped closer, reading over her shoulder. The message was followed by a photo—blurry but unmistakable. The two of them, together, in the server room.
Someone had been watching.
Across the hall, behind a barely cracked door, Sasha bit her lower lip, the corners of her mouth twitching in excitement.
She had followed Eric out of instinct. He wasn't the kind of man who should've ended up in Lena's inner circle. Not with that forgettable face and those downcast eyes. But now, she saw the real story unfold.
"Oh, my, my," she whispered. "What have we got here?"
She quietly snapped a photo through the gap with her phone.
From her purse, she pulled out a tiny, unmarked earpiece. "Papa," she whispered, pressing the transmitter. "You were right. Something's going on in the head office."
But she didn't tell him everything.
Not about the sparks she'd seen between Eric and Lena. Not about the thrill creeping up her spine.
Sasha had found something worth staying for.
Eric felt Lena's breath quicken as he leaned in slightly, his lips close enough to brush her ear.
"They're gone," he whispered. "But you're shaking."
Lena immediately straightened, shoving him lightly in the chest. "Don't flatter yourself. It's just the adrenaline."
He smirked but said nothing, his eyes lingering on her for a second too long.
Lena turned away, brushing invisible dust from her blouse, but her thoughts were a mess. She hated how her body betrayed her—a flush creeping up her neck, a pounding heartbeat she couldn't blame entirely on fear.
The silence was broken by the buzz of a phone. Eric glanced at his screen. A message popped up: "Meet me at Storage B3 in 20 minutes. Come alone. Bring the file."
No signature. No number.
He looked up, and Lena immediately caught the tension in his jaw. "What is it?"
"Nothing good," he said, pocketing the phone. "Looks like someone wants a private meeting. Off the record."
Lena's eyes narrowed. "Another trap?"
Eric nodded. "Probably. But it might also be our only chance to trace who's really pulling the strings."
She hesitated. "Then I'm coming with you."
He stared at her. "Lena, if they know we're together, they'll target both of us."
She stepped forward, her eyes fierce. "I'm already a target. And I'm not leaving this in your hands alone."
A small smile touched his lips. "You really don't trust me, do you?"
"I don't trust anyone," she replied coldly. "But you're the closest thing I have to an ally."
Storage Room B3 – 11:03 PM
The space was dim, filled with old office chairs and rusting filing cabinets. The air smelled of dust and neglect. Eric entered first, his steps careful, senses heightened. Lena followed, her heels muted against the concrete floor.
A figure emerged from behind a stack of broken monitors. Dressed in a janitor's uniform, but the eyes—sharp, calculating—betrayed something far more dangerous.
"Cute couple," the man said with a smirk. "You put on quite a show for the cameras."
Eric didn't react. "You sent the message?"
The man nodded. "You're smarter than you look. Which makes you dangerous. And I don't like dangerous people snooping around."
Lena stepped forward, folding her arms. "Then maybe you should've kept your secrets better hidden."
The man chuckled. "Oh, this one has fire. No wonder you're risking your neck, Eric."
Eric kept his tone even. "What do you want?"
The man's gaze sharpened. "Simple. I want that file deleted. Now. Before you make enemies who won't just send warnings—they'll erase you. Permanently."
Eric didn't flinch. "So you're working for the real puppeteer. Who is it? Henson? Or someone even higher?"
But the man only smiled. "Let's just say… you're playing a game far above your pay grade."
Lena took a step closer. "If we refuse?"
The smile faded. "Then accidents happen. Elevators fail. Cars brake a little too late. You know how it goes."
He turned to leave but paused at the door. "Oh, and one more thing. You're being watched. By more than just the security team."
The door clicked shut behind him.
Back in Eric's car, silence stretched between them. Lena stared out the window, her reflection a ghost over the city lights.
"He was bluffing," she muttered, not sounding convinced.
"No," Eric said quietly. "He was warning us. But not out of kindness. Out of fear."
She turned to look at him. "Fear of what?"
He met her gaze. "That we'll dig too deep before they can silence us."
Their eyes held for a long moment. Something unspoken passed between them—something that had nothing to do with corporate secrets and everything to do with the tension that had been simmering for days.
Suddenly, Lena laughed, short and sharp. "We're in way over our heads."
Eric smiled. "You finally admit it?"
She shook her head. "No. I admit you're useful. That's as far as I'll go."
Meanwhile, in a dimly lit hallway
Sasha leaned against the wall, earphones in but the music long since stopped. She had followed them out of curiosity. What she saw? Something she hadn't expected.
That woman—the ice queen—pressed up against Eric like a nervous schoolgirl. And Eric, the quiet, unassuming admin? Calm as hell.
She grinned, a slow, predatory smile. "Well, well, Mr. Chen… What are you hiding?"
She tapped her nails on her phone, already composing a message.
But then paused.
No, not yet. This was too interesting. She'd get closer first. Play the game a little longer. She had a feeling it was going to be fun.
Lena exhaled slowly as Eric pulled the car into the underground garage beneath his apartment building. Neither of them spoke during the ride, both consumed by the threat they had just encountered.
The memory of the janitor's smug smirk clung to her like smoke.
"Upstairs," Eric said, nodding toward the elevator. "We need to go through the file again. Carefully."
Lena arched an eyebrow. "You keep classified documents in your apartment?"
"Only the ones worth killing for."
Eric's Apartment – 11:47 PM
The space was small but surprisingly tidy. Dark shelves lined the walls, stacked with books, folders, and a few coffee mugs that hadn't seen a dishwasher in weeks. A minimalist desk stood at one end of the room with dual monitors glowing faintly.
Eric tossed his keys onto the table and gestured toward the sofa. "Make yourself uncomfortable."
"Charming," Lena muttered, removing her jacket and sitting stiffly. She wasn't used to being in a man's home, especially not like this—after nearly being threatened into silence by a faceless entity.
Eric handed her a glass of water. "Don't drink it if you're worried I'll drug you."
"I'm not," she said dryly. "If I were you, I would've done it at the office."
He grinned. "Smart woman."
As Lena sipped, Eric sat beside her with a tablet and projected the encrypted file onto the TV. Graphs. Names. Offshore accounts. Discreet shell corporations. Hidden bonuses and slush funds cleverly rerouted through dummy vendors.
She stared in silence, then finally whispered, "It's bigger than I thought."
Eric nodded. "There's enough here to bury a few vice presidents. Maybe even Henson himself."
"But it won't be enough unless we trace who's behind this name." Lena pointed to a recurring pseudonym: Kestrel.
Eric looked up. "I've been trying. It's clean. Too clean. But tonight's meeting? I think our janitor friend might be Kestrel's middleman."
Lena stood, pacing slowly. Her heels echoed softly on the floor. "So we dangle the bait. Leak just enough to see who takes the first bite."
"And risk drawing out the real players."
She turned to face him, her silhouette outlined by the soft blue light of the TV. "You said earlier we were being watched. How sure are you?"
"Very." His voice dropped. "And not just by the company."
There was a pause. Their eyes locked again, and this time, the air between them thickened—not just with tension, but with something far more dangerous.
Curiosity. Trust. Need.
Lena didn't look away.
"Why are you helping me?" she asked quietly. "Really."
Eric leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Because someone needs to bring this place down from the inside. And you…" He paused, then added, "You're strong. But even you can't fight ghosts alone."
She stared at him, heart skipping.
"Strong," she echoed with a bitter laugh. "You don't know anything about me."
Eric stood, walking past her toward the window. "Then show me."
Elsewhere – Same Time
Sasha sat cross-legged on her couch, eyes glued to a video on her phone. Not a livestream. A recording.
A grainy clip from the storage room. Hidden mic. Shaky footage. But it was enough.
She rewound to the part where the janitor warned them: "You're being watched."
"Who the hell are you, Eric Chen?" she murmured, tapping her pen against her lips.
A knock on her door interrupted the moment. She quickly minimized the file and opened the door to find a tall man in a dark coat.
"Delivery," he said, handing over a slim envelope.
Sasha frowned. "I didn't order anything."
"Sure you did. From someone who doesn't like being ignored."
As she took the envelope, the man disappeared down the hallway without another word.
She closed the door, tore open the package, and unfolded the single sheet inside.
Stop digging. You're in the game now.
—K
Her heart pounded. A thrill of fear—and excitement—ran down her spine.
Eric's Apartment – 12:15 AM
Lena sat curled at the far end of the couch, barefoot now, her blouse slightly undone, eyes fixed on the screen.
She was no longer cold. Just unsettled.
Eric returned from the kitchen, two mugs of coffee in hand. "Midnight fuel."
"You don't sleep, do you?"
"Not when I'm being hunted."
She accepted the coffee, fingers brushing his for a moment. It lingered. Just a second too long.
"Eric," she said quietly.
He looked at her, and before she could finish, a sudden crack shattered the window behind them. A small hole—glass splintered.
Then came the sharp thunk of a suppressed shot embedding in the wall.
"Down!" he shouted, tackling her to the floor just as a second bullet zipped through the apartment.
She hit the carpet with a grunt, pinned under his weight. His breath was hot against her ear, his arm braced protectively around her head.
"I thought you said we had time," she hissed.
"I thought we did."
More shots didn't follow. Just silence.
He slowly lifted his head. "Sniper. Warning shot. Probably from the next building."
Lena lay beneath him, her chest heaving. Her lips parted, her face inches from his. "They're serious."
Eric didn't move. "So am I."
For a second, everything else faded—the gunfire, the files, the threat.
Then she broke eye contact, pushing him off. "We need to go. Now."
He helped her up, grabbing his go-bag from under the bed.
As they rushed down the fire escape, Lena glanced back at the apartment.
"That was your home," she murmured.
Eric didn't look. "Not anymore."