Ben froze. The words didn't make sense.
He studied the man in front of him again, those eyes, that steady posture, the way he spoke his name without hesitation. There was something familiar about him. Something that clawed at the edge of his memory.
Inside the bank, employees had gathered near the glass, whispering and watching in disbelief as their boss, the unreachable Ben Hart stood outside, talking to a man who looked as if he hadn't eaten in days.
The same man whom their security had nearly thrown out.
Ben's expression hardened. "Come with me," he said under his breath. "We're not talking about this out here."
Adrian nodded once, silent and composed, and followed him in. The guards looked at each other, confused, but no one dared to stop them.
They entered the elevator. No words. Only the soft hum of the cables pulling them upward. Ben's reflection trembled faintly in the mirrored wall behind Adrian.
When they reached his office, Ben shut the door and locked it. The air dropped instantly becoming colder and heavier.
He turned, arms crossed. "Talk."
Adrian stepped closer to the desk, placed the folded letter neatly on its surface, and met his eyes. "You don't need me to explain it. You know what it means."
Ben's throat worked. "That accident has nothing to do with you."
"I never said it did," Adrian replied softly. "But it has everything to do with you. And I know exactly how much you've buried to keep that part of your life clean."
Ben's jaw clenched. "Are you trying to blackmail me?"
Adrian smiled faintly. "Blackmail is such an ugly word. Let's call it... persuasion."
He pulled out a small notebook, placing it beside the letter. "I need a loan. A small one. Enough to start a business, get back on my feet. You approve it, and this conversation never leaves this room. Easy peasy."
Ben's eyes narrowed. "And if I don't?"
Adrian didn't even flinch. "Then maybe I stop being quiet about the things you've worked so hard to hide," he said evenly. "I don't want trouble, Mr. Hart. Just... cooperation."
Adrian's gaze didn't hold malice, only quiet weariness. He wasn't here to destroy Ben. He never would.
If Ben refused him, Adrian would simply walk away and find another way, another plan.
But Ben didn't need to know that.
Because right now, fear was the only language Ben understood.
Ben's knuckles whitened against the edge of his desk. His mind raced—the accident, the bridge, the silence that had haunted him for years. How could this man know? How could anyone know?
And more importantly....how much did he know?
"You have no proof," Ben said finally, his voice low.
Adrian tilted his head, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "And you believe I can't get one?"
The tension in the room thickened. Ben could feel his own pulse pounding in his ears. The man standing before him looked calm, too calm, like someone who already knew the outcome of the conversation.
Finally, Ben leaned back in his chair, exhaling slowly. "How much?"
Adrian didn't hesitate, "Forty thousand dollars. Enough to buy a small shop on Maple Street and get it running again."
Ben blinked, his composure faltering for the first time. "Forty thousand?" he repeated, incredulous. "You do realize that's not pocket change, right? And you—" He stopped himself before saying you never pay your debts. But the thought was loud enough to fill the silence.
Adrian's expression didn't change. He simply watched Ben with quiet patience, as if the man's disbelief was expected. "You don't have to worry about repayment," he said finally. "I'll make sure it's handled. You just have to say yes."
Ben rubbed a hand over his face, the paper still on the table between them. His heartbeat had only just begun to slow from the letter's shock, but that number—forty thousand brought it right back up.
"Adrian," he said slowly, "you have a history here. Unpaid loans, bad records, fights with my staff—do you expect me to just ignore all that because you suddenly want to start a business?"
Adrian leaned forward slightly, his gaze calm but piercing. "I expect you to remember what's written in that letter," he said quietly.
Ben froze. For a moment, the air between them turned heavy.
He hated how his own thoughts betrayed him—What if he tells someone?
He could call security. Deny him outright. Tear the letter to shreds. But the idea of anyone else even seeing it made his skin crawl.
"Get me the loan approval forms," he said into the receiver. "Now."
As the line clicked off, Ben sighed, slumping back into his chair. "If this comes back to bite me, I'll make sure you regret it."
Adrian's lips curved faintly, the shadow of a smile. "Trust me," he said. "You won't have to."
The silence that followed was thick. Only the faint ticking of Ben's wall clock cut through the stillness.
Adrian stood where he was, hands in his pockets, posture composed but not arrogant. He didn't fidget, just watched Ben wait for the papers that could decide his fate.
When the assistant arrived with the documents, she hesitated at the threshold, eyes flicking between the two men. Ben's tone was clipped. "Leave it. Close the door behind you."
The latch clicked, and Ben pressed his pen to the paper. His signature flowed out in neat, practiced loops, but his hand trembled just enough for Adrian to notice.
When it was done, Ben slid the file across the desk. "You'll have your money by tomorrow morning. But understand this, if you don't pay it back, I won't hesitate to take everything you have."
Adrian met his gaze steadily. "Fair enough."
Ben frowned, half-expecting him to turn that same threat into a free pass, a way to take the money and never pay it back. It would've made sense, after all. Men like him didn't usually keep their promises.
But Adrian didn't argue. Didn't plead. He simply picked up the folder and tucked it under his arm like a man who'd just sealed a business deal, not someone who had just forced the hand of one of New York's most feared financiers.
It unnerved Ben more than he wanted to admit.
"You're a strange man, Mr...?" Ben trailed off, realizing too late he didn't even know Adrian's last name.
Adrian glanced at him. "Morrow," he said simply.
"Adrian Morrow." Ben nodded slowly, committing the name to memory.
Adrian adjusted his coat.
"Well," Adrian said evenly, "I appreciate your time, Mr. Hart."
He turned toward the door, hand brushing the handle then paused. That faint, knowing smile touched his lips again as he glanced back.
"I'll take my leave now," he said softly. "Once I've got this business up and running, I'll invite you out for a drink. You've helped me more than you realize, and you deserve it. Besides," he added with a small chuckle, "it would be nice to celebrate with a friend."
Ben didn't respond. He only watched him go, the sound of his footsteps fading against the marble floor.
When the door finally closed, silence filled the room. Ben let out a slow breath, realizing his palms were damp against the edge of the desk.
Celebrate with a friend.