Elena's POV
I delete the threatening messages the moment I get home.
It's stupid—I should save them as evidence—but seeing those words on my screen makes me feel like I'm drowning. So I delete them and pretend they never existed.
Maya's already asleep when I creep into her apartment. I crash on her couch again, still too scared to go back to my own place even though it's probably fine.
Everything's probably fine.
I'm probably overreacting.
The lies I tell myself don't help me sleep.
At 7 AM, my phone rings. Damien's assistant, a crisp-voiced woman named Patricia.
Mr. Cross needs to see you. Eight AM. His office. Don't be late.
She hangs up before I can respond.
Dread settles in my stomach like a stone.
I arrive at Damien's office at 7:55 AM, my coffee clutched like a shield.
Patricia waves me in without looking up. He's expecting you.
I knock. Wait. My palms are sweating.
Come in.
Damien sits behind his massive desk, his expression unreadable. He's in a dark suit, perfectly put together, but there are shadows under his eyes that suggest he didn't sleep either.
Sit, he says.
It's not a request.
I sit in the chair across from him, my hands gripped tight in my lap.
Silence stretches between us. Damien studies me like I'm a puzzle he's trying to solve. Each second that passes makes my anxiety spike higher.
Finally, he speaks.
How well do you know my brother?
My heart drops. I told you last night. We worked together at Cross Technologies.
You worked in data analysis. Marcus worked in hardware development. Damien leans forward, his eyes sharp. Different departments. Different floors. So how exactly did you two meet?
Company events. Meetings. The normal ways coworkers meet.
And you became friends?
The question is a trap. I can feel it.
We were friendly, I say carefully. Nothing more.
Marcus said he had feelings for you.
Heat floods my face. He was drunk. He didn't know what he was saying.
Drunk people tell the truth. Damien stands, moving around the desk toward me. Did you know he felt that way about you? Three years ago, when we were together, when you were my fiancée—did you know my brother wanted you?
I didn't encourage it!
That's not what I asked. He stops in front of me, looming over my chair. I asked if you knew.
I press my thumb into my palm, hard, trying to ground myself. Yes. I knew. But I never—
You knew my brother had feelings for you, and you never told me? His voice is dangerously quiet. We were engaged, Elena. We were supposed to tell each other everything.
It didn't matter! I loved you, not him. I would never
Wouldn't you? He crouches down so we're eye level, his hands gripping the arms of my chair, caging me in. Because here's what I'm seeing: my brother had unrequited feelings for you. Then suddenly, my company's code gets stolen. You take the blame and disappear. Marcus falls apart with guilt. And now you're both acting terrified every time you see each other.
My breath comes in short gasps. He's too close. Too perceptive.
What happened between you and Marcus three years ago? Damien's voice is ice. And don't lie to me. I'll know.
Nothing happened
You're lying. He grabs my hand, forcing it open, revealing where my thumb was pressed white into my palm. You do this thing when you lie. You always have. So try again. What. Happened?
I yank my hand away. Why does it matter? You've already decided I'm guilty! You think I betrayed you, slept with your brother, destroyed your company for money—
I never said you slept with him.
The words hang in the air.
Oh God. He thinks Marcus and I had an affair. That's what his brilliant mind has concluded from the evidence.
We didn't, I say desperately. Damien, I swear on everything—Marcus and I never touched each other that way. Never kissed. Never
Then why does he look at you like you're a grenade about to explode? Damien stands abruptly, pacing away from me. Why do you look at him the same way? What secret are you two keeping that's so terrible you can't tell me?
There's no secret!
Stop lying! He spins around, and I see real pain in his eyes now, not just anger. Three years, Elena. I've spent three years trying to understand why the woman I loved destroyed me. And every time I get close to an answer, you throw up another wall!
Because some things are better left buried!
No! His fist slams down on the desk, making me jump. No, they're not. Secrets fester. They poison everything. And whatever you're hiding, it's killing you. I can see it in your eyes—you're carrying something so heavy you can barely breathe.
Tears burn behind my eyes. Please stop.
Tell me the truth. He moves toward me again, his voice dropping to that dangerous softness. Did Marcus do something to you? Threaten you? Because if he hurt you, if he forced you to
He didn't force me to do anything. The words come out choked. I made my own choice.
Choice to what? Steal the code? Take the fall? Run away? Damien's hands frame my face, forcing me to look at him. Help me understand. Please. Because I'm going insane trying to figure out why the woman I trusted more than anyone would
A knock at the door interrupts him.
We both freeze, his hands still on my face, standing too close.
What? Damien snaps.
The door opens. James Park, the CFO, steps in—and stops short when he sees us.
Sorry. I didn't realize, He clears his throat. But we have a problem. A big one.
Damien drops his hands, stepping back. His mask slides into place, professional, controlled.
What kind of problem?
The kind that involves the police. James looks between us. They're downstairs. They want to talk to Elena about Cross Technologies. About the theft three years ago.
My blood turns to ice. What?
Someone filed a complaint, James explains. Anonymous tip claiming new evidence has surfaced about the corporate espionage case. They're reopening the investigation.
No. No, no, no.
They can't do that, I whisper. The case was closed. I left. Everyone moved on.
Apparently not everyone. James's expression is grim. They have a warrant to question you. And they want to search your apartment.
The room spins. My apartment. Where I have nothing incriminating because I never actually stole anything, but
The photo. The anonymous messages. The threats.
Someone's setting me up. Again.
Damien is staring at me with an expression I can't read. Did you do it, Elena? Did you actually steal from Cross Technologies?
This is it. The moment I could tell him the truth. Tell him it was Marcus, show him I'm innocent, let the police investigate the real criminal.
But Marcus's face flashes in my mind—drunk, desperate, broken. And Damien's face when he talks about his brother—the only family he has left.
If I tell the truth now, with police involved, Marcus goes to prison. Damien loses his brother. And I become the person who destroyed his family.
No, I say. I didn't steal anything.
It's the truth. But Damien doesn't believe me. I can see it in his eyes.
Then you have nothing to worry about. His voice is carefully neutral. Go talk to the police. Answer their questions. If you're innocent, it'll be fine.
He doesn't believe me.
After everything—after the touches, the questions, the moments where I thought maybe he still cared—he still thinks I'm guilty.
I stand on shaking legs. May I go?
Yes. He turns away from me, looking out his window at the city. James will escort you downstairs.
I walk to the door, James beside me.
Elena, Damien says without turning around. If there's something you want to tell me, now would be the time.
I pause. My hand on the doorknob. My heart breaking.
There's nothing to tell, I lie.
I follow James out, leaving Damien alone in his office.
In the elevator, James speaks quietly. He's trying to help you. You know that, right?
By having me questioned by police?
He didn't call them. Someone else did. James looks at me seriously. Someone who wants you gone. Someone who knows about the past and is using it against you.
Who?
That's what I'm trying to figure out. The elevator stops at the lobby. But Elena—whoever it is, they're not playing games anymore. This is serious. Criminal charges serious.
The doors open.
Two detectives wait in the lobby. One's a middle-aged woman with sharp eyes. The other's a younger man with a notepad.
Elena Ashford? the woman asks.
Yes.
I'm Detective Reeves. We need to ask you some questions about your time at Cross Technologies. She pulls out a photo—the same one from last night's anonymous message. Me and Marcus at the Christmas party. Starting with your relationship with Marcus Cross.
My world tilts.
Someone sent this photo to the police.
Someone wants me arrested.
And I have no idea who.
Or how to stop them.