The moment the encrypted email closed, the silence between Eric and Lena was deafening.
The soft hum of the ceiling fan did little to dissipate the sudden cold that had settled in Lena's office. Her hands were still resting on the sleek glass desk, fingers slightly curled, knuckles whitening. Eric stood beside her—not too close, not too far, just enough distance to seem professional. But the air between them vibrated with a tension far beyond professionalism.
Lena finally moved. Her gaze, sharp and unreadable, flicked to Eric. "How long have you known?"
Eric raised an eyebrow slightly. "Known what?"
She didn't answer. Instead, she rose from her chair with deliberate grace and walked past him toward the window. The city beyond was alive with motion, but here—inside this office—it felt like time had slowed to a crawl. She crossed her arms tightly across her chest, her voice quieter now, but laced with an edge of steel.
"I don't like being watched. And I hate being manipulated."
Eric didn't reply immediately. He knew better than to step into her emotional minefield too quickly. "Then it's good we're on the same side."
That made her turn around. Her eyes narrowed. "Are we?"
Their gazes locked. For a moment, neither blinked.
Then, unexpectedly, Lena let out a dry laugh. "You… You're good. You play the naive employee act so well. But I see through it now."
Eric didn't deny it. "And yet you're still talking to me instead of calling security."
She took a step forward, arms uncrossing, eyes calculating. "Because whoever sent that email has more on me than they do on you. And you're the only person who saw it."
Eric gave her a small, knowing smile. "So you need me."
Lena didn't flinch. "I need a shield. You just happen to be standing in the right place."
**
The two spent the next hour combing through the email's metadata, trying to trace the source. It was scrubbed clean—professional level. Whoever was behind it wasn't some idle gossip. This was calculated blackmail.
"What do they want?" Eric finally asked, pulling his laptop closer.
Lena hesitated, a crack appearing in her otherwise flawless mask. "I don't know. Yet."
Eric paused. "But you have an idea."
She didn't look at him. "Let's just say… I've stepped on some powerful toes recently."
He leaned back, folding his arms. "You mean your little power struggle with Mr. Dalton and the Finance Committee?"
That made her freeze.
"How—"
"I listen," Eric said, almost gently. "More than people expect."
There it was again—that flicker of something behind her cold, strong exterior. Vulnerability? No. She wouldn't allow it. But recognition, perhaps. A dangerous acknowledgment that Eric Chen wasn't just some quiet background employee.
Then, without warning, Lena stepped closer. Much closer.
"You think you can help me?" she said, voice low. "Really help me?"
Eric didn't move. "Yes."
Her breath was cool, fragrant. She studied him as if seeing him for the first time. "Then help me make this disappear. We don't report it. We don't tell Security. Not yet. I need time to clean up… something."
Eric tilted his head. "And what do I get?"
A smirk danced at the corner of her lips. "You're already getting it, aren't you? The thrill of playing with fire."
**
Outside,in the hallway not far from the office door, a slim figure leaned casually against the wall.
Sasha Chen. The department's new HR assistant, heels off, earbuds in—but the screen of her phone showed something different: the office security feed. She watched the blurred silhouettes of Eric and Lena. Close. Too close.
Her pink lips curled into a smirk as she tapped the screen and zoomed in.
"Well, well," she murmured to herself, pulling a lollipop from her pocket and sliding it between her lips. "Looks like the boring guy isn't so boring after all."
She twirled the candy slowly. Her eyes didn't blink.
"And the queen of ice… has a secret lover?" Her voice was playful, but her mind was calculating. Because Sasha wasn't just here to push paper and giggle at office gossip. She was sent by someone who had a very vested interest in this company—and its little secrets.
Time to get a little closer to Mr. Chen.
Just a little closer.
The tension didn't ease once Lena and Eric exited her office.
If anything, it became more charged.
The hallway was quiet, too quiet. Lena walked ahead, her heels striking the marble tiles with sharp, decisive taps. Eric followed, eyes scanning the corners, the lights, the cameras—aware of how exposed they now were.
"We'll need somewhere off the grid," he said, keeping his voice low.
Lena didn't look at him. "The legal archives room. No cameras. Restricted access."
Eric raised an eyebrow. "Convenient."
"I designed it that way."
They turned a corner just as a shadow moved across the far end of the corridor. Someone watching?
Lena stiffened. Eric reacted instantly.
Without warning, he grabbed her wrist and pulled her into the narrow alcove beside the vending machine. The space was tight. Too tight.
Her back hit the wall with a soft thud, and before she could speak, Eric leaned in, one hand pressed beside her head, the other still on her wrist.
To any observer from afar—or a security camera angle—they looked like lovers caught in a stolen moment. Heated. Reckless. Intimate.
"What the hell—" Lena began, eyes wide.
"Camera above the corner," Eric whispered, breath brushing her cheek. "Just play along."
Lena's lips parted, not in objection, but in instinct. Her breath hitched slightly as she became aware of how close he was. The scent of him—clean, understated, unfamiliar. His grip wasn't forceful, but it was firm. In control.
"You really commit to the role," she murmured.
Eric smirked. "You wanted discretion."
They stayed that way for a heartbeat too long.
When Eric finally stepped back, Lena didn't say a word. She just straightened her blazer, brushed back a lock of hair, and gave him a look—half warning, half… something else.
Desire? Distrust? Both?
**
Down the hallway, around the corner, Sasha stood with her phone still recording.
She wasn't smiling this time.
Her eyes were calculating, cold, despite the pink scrunchie on her wrist and the oversized bubblegum hoodie that made her look harmless.
"So that's how it is," she whispered. "How interesting."
She stopped recording, slipped the phone back into her pocket, and turned on her heel.
Time to get involved. Gently, of course. Sweetly.
Like an intern.
**
The archives room was cold and smelled faintly of old toner and disinfectant.
Lena shut the door behind them and punched in a code, locking it from the inside. Only two people in the building had access to this room. She was one.
The other? The recently resigned legal director who'd mysteriously "retired" last month.
Eric noticed the detail, but didn't comment.
Instead, he walked to the far wall where a whiteboard stood mostly blank.
"We need to map this out," he said, grabbing a marker. "Assume the email was just the opening move. Whoever's behind this isn't after money. Not yet."
Lena leaned against the table, arms crossed. "Then what?"
Eric looked over his shoulder at her. "Control. Influence. A way to pull your strings."
"And yours."
Eric nodded. "They see us as a threat. Or leverage."
Lena's jaw tightened. "I've built my career clawing my way past men twice my age who thought I'd fold under pressure. I don't fold."
Eric's gaze softened. "I believe you."
There was a moment of silence.
Then Lena moved, stepping forward until she was close enough to touch him. Her voice dropped.
"You trust me, Eric?"
He hesitated. "Should I?"
She smiled. It wasn't cold this time. "No. But you will."
**
Meanwhile, just two floors below, Sasha slipped into the elevator marked "Maintenance."
No one paid her much attention. Who would suspect the cheerful HR assistant in sneakers?
She tapped her phone twice. A secure message sent.
Then she pulled out a paperclip and began fiddling with it absentmindedly as the elevator descended—not to the next floor, but one far below where most of the staff ever dared go.
**
Back in the archives, Lena and Eric finally began piecing things together.
Emails. Voice memos. Shredded reports from last quarter.
A name kept reappearing in the data: Miles Krauss.
Senior advisor. Untouchable. Retired on paper, but still moving chess pieces behind closed doors.
"He's not gone," Eric said grimly. "He's just in the shadows now."
Lena's expression darkened. "He mentored Dalton. Helped rig the budget cuts. If anyone has the dirt to blackmail me…"
"…it's him."
Eric leaned closer, tapping the board. "But if we play this right, we don't just survive. We expose him."
Lena arched an eyebrow. "Dangerous game."
He gave a half-smile. "We're already in it."
Their eyes met again. The heat, the thrill, the danger—it was all mixing into something neither of them could quite name.
And just as they were about to dive deeper into the plan, Lena's phone buzzed.
Unknown Number.
One message.
Nice move, lovebirds. But I see everything. Let's see how long you can dance.
Attached: A security camera still.
Them.
In the hallway alcove.
Lena against the wall. Eric leaning in. Too close. Too real.
Lena's face turned pale. Eric's eyes narrowed.
"They're not just watching," he muttered. "They're testing us."
She looked at him, voice tight.
"Then let's give them a show they won't forget."
The tension didn't ease once Lena and Eric exited her office.
If anything, it became more charged.
The hallway was quiet, too quiet. Lena walked ahead, her heels striking the marble tiles with sharp, decisive taps. Eric followed, eyes scanning the corners, the lights, the cameras—aware of how exposed they now were.
"We'll need somewhere off the grid," he said, keeping his voice low.
Lena didn't look at him. "The legal archives room. No cameras. Restricted access."
Eric raised an eyebrow. "Convenient."
"I designed it that way."
They turned a corner just as a shadow moved across the far end of the corridor. Someone watching?
Lena stiffened. Eric reacted instantly.
Without warning, he grabbed her wrist and pulled her into the narrow alcove beside the vending machine. The space was tight. Too tight.
Her back hit the wall with a soft thud, and before she could speak, Eric leaned in, one hand pressed beside her head, the other still on her wrist.
To any observer from afar—or a security camera angle—they looked like lovers caught in a stolen moment. Heated. Reckless. Intimate.
"What the hell—" Lena began, eyes wide.
"Camera above the corner," Eric whispered, breath brushing her cheek. "Just play along."
Lena's lips parted, not in objection, but in instinct. Her breath hitched slightly as she became aware of how close he was. The scent of him—clean, understated, unfamiliar. His grip wasn't forceful, but it was firm. In control.
"You really commit to the role," she murmured.
Eric smirked. "You wanted discretion."
They stayed that way for a heartbeat too long.
When Eric finally stepped back, Lena didn't say a word. She just straightened her blazer, brushed back a lock of hair, and gave him a look—half warning, half… something else.
Desire? Distrust? Both?
**
Down the hallway, around the corner, Sasha stood with her phone still recording.
She wasn't smiling this time.
Her eyes were calculating, cold, despite the pink scrunchie on her wrist and the oversized bubblegum hoodie that made her look harmless.
"So that's how it is," she whispered. "How interesting."
She stopped recording, slipped the phone back into her pocket, and turned on her heel.
Time to get involved. Gently, of course. Sweetly.
Like an intern.
**
The archives room was cold and smelled faintly of old toner and disinfectant.
Lena shut the door behind them and punched in a code, locking it from the inside. Only two people in the building had access to this room. She was one.
The other? The recently resigned legal director who'd mysteriously "retired" last month.
Eric noticed the detail, but didn't comment.
Instead, he walked to the far wall where a whiteboard stood mostly blank.
"We need to map this out," he said, grabbing a marker. "Assume the email was just the opening move. Whoever's behind this isn't after money. Not yet."
Lena leaned against the table, arms crossed. "Then what?"
Eric looked over his shoulder at her. "Control. Influence. A way to pull your strings."
"And yours."
Eric nodded. "They see us as a threat. Or leverage."
Lena's jaw tightened. "I've built my career clawing my way past men twice my age who thought I'd fold under pressure. I don't fold."
Eric's gaze softened. "I believe you."
There was a moment of silence.
Then Lena moved, stepping forward until she was close enough to touch him. Her voice dropped.
"You trust me, Eric?"
He hesitated. "Should I?"
She smiled. It wasn't cold this time. "No. But you will."
**
Meanwhile, just two floors below, Sasha slipped into the elevator marked "Maintenance."
No one paid her much attention. Who would suspect the cheerful HR assistant in sneakers?
She tapped her phone twice. A secure message sent.
Then she pulled out a paperclip and began fiddling with it absentmindedly as the elevator descended—not to the next floor, but one far below where most of the staff ever dared go.
**
Back in the archives, Lena and Eric finally began piecing things together.
Emails. Voice memos. Shredded reports from last quarter.
A name kept reappearing in the data: Miles Krauss.
Senior advisor. Untouchable. Retired on paper, but still moving chess pieces behind closed doors.
"He's not gone," Eric said grimly. "He's just in the shadows now."
Lena's expression darkened. "He mentored Dalton. Helped rig the budget cuts. If anyone has the dirt to blackmail me…"
"…it's him."
Eric leaned closer, tapping the board. "But if we play this right, we don't just survive. We expose him."
Lena arched an eyebrow. "Dangerous game."
He gave a half-smile. "We're already in it."
Their eyes met again. The heat, the thrill, the danger—it was all mixing into something neither of them could quite name.
And just as they were about to dive deeper into the plan, Lena's phone buzzed.
Unknown Number.
One message.
Nice move, lovebirds. But I see everything. Let's see how long you can dance.
Attached: A security camera still.
Them.
In the hallway alcove.
Lena against the wall. Eric leaning in. Too close. Too real.
Lena's face turned pale. Eric's eyes narrowed.
"They're not just watching," he muttered. "They're testing us."
She looked at him, voice tight.
"Then let's give them a show they won't forget."
The elevator dinged softly as it reached the underground parking level. Eric stepped out first, scanning the dimly lit space for any unusual signs. Lena followed, her high heels clicking softly against the concrete floor—a sharp contrast to the silence between them.
They walked toward Eric's car, their steps in sync, but their thoughts diverging wildly.
"You think it's wise to leave the building this soon after what happened upstairs?" Lena finally asked, her voice low but edged with tension.
Eric didn't turn around. "Unless you'd prefer to be interrogated by HR tomorrow, or worse, cornered by whoever sent that warning."
Lena's eyes narrowed. "So we're just running?"
"No," he said, unlocking the car. "We're repositioning."
She hated that she didn't have a better plan—and that his made sense.
Inside the car, the atmosphere thickened. The windows fogged slightly from the contrast of the summer humidity outside and the cold AC inside. Eric drove smoothly, eyes fixed on the road, but Lena felt his occasional glances.
"You haven't asked me why I agreed to come with you," she said after a long pause.
"I figured you'd tell me when you're ready."
A bitter smile curled her lips. "I came because I realized something today. When everything went to hell, the people I thought were on my side vanished. But you—you stayed."
Eric didn't reply. His grip on the steering wheel tightened.
Lena turned toward him. "What do you know, Eric? About the list. About the servers. About the sealed floor?"
He met her gaze briefly. "Enough to know that this company is a stage, and most of us are props. But I'm tired of being part of someone else's script."
That hit harder than she expected. It mirrored a feeling she hadn't dared to admit.
They arrived at an old residential compound on the city's edge. Eric parked in front of a low-rise building, the kind that hadn't seen renovation in decades. It was the last place anyone would expect them to be.
Inside the apartment, dim yellow lighting and plain furniture greeted them. Eric gestured toward the sofa. "It's not much, but it's safe."
Lena sat, folding her arms tightly. "I didn't think someone like you would have a place like this."
"Exactly why no one will think to look here," he replied. "And this—" he pulled a small device from his bag and placed it on the coffee table, "—is why we're here."
A secure drive. Black casing, no brand. Clearly expensive. Clearly not corporate-issued.
Lena leaned forward. "You brought it out of the sealed floor?"
He nodded.
"You're insane."
"Maybe," Eric admitted. "But it's the only way to find out who's playing us like chess pieces."
He booted up an old laptop, connected the drive, and began decrypting files. Lena watched in silence as lines of code flickered across the screen, her arms now relaxed, her legs crossed, but her guard still subtly up.
As the first folder opened, her expression shifted.
"Internal memos… these names…" she whispered.
"Board members. Investors. Offshore accounts," Eric muttered. "And look—contracts with firms I've never seen in any audit."
"This is big. If any of this goes public—"
"We'd be signing our death warrants," Eric finished. "But if we use it wisely…"
"We could reshape the board," Lena said slowly, a strange gleam in her eye.
Eric turned to her. "Now you see why I didn't come to you right away."
"Because you knew I'd either use it or bury it."
"You still might."
The tension between them had shifted now—from distrust to something far more dangerous: alignment.
Lena stood up and walked to the window, staring into the streetlamp-lit darkness. "I can't go back tomorrow and pretend nothing happened."
"You won't have to."
She turned, her silhouette sharp against the dim light. "What are you planning?"
Eric stood too, walking toward her until they were barely a foot apart. "A slow burn. We don't set fire to the house—we let the rot eat through the walls, quietly."
She raised an eyebrow. "Metaphors. Always metaphors."
"It's safer than saying it out loud."
Lena's lips parted, but no words came out.
It was that moment again—neither fully trust nor complete betrayal. A line they walked in silence, dangerously close to falling into something neither of them was prepared for.
Just then, Eric's phone buzzed.
He checked the screen. A message. No sender.
"Cute hideout. Wonder what else you're hiding. ;)"
He showed it to Lena. Her eyes went cold.
"Someone's watching us," she said flatly.
"Or playing with us."
Far from the apartment, in a café near the company building, Sasha sipped her iced coffee and grinned.
She had followed her intuition—and it led to gold.
But she wasn't about to tell anyone. Not yet.
Instead, she snapped her phone shut and murmured, "Let's see how deep the rabbit hole goes."