I stared at the text on my phone like it was about to bite me.
Unknown Number: We need to talk. Privately. It's about Cole.
Not vague at all. Not terrifying in the slightest. Very normal to receive on your first day at a new job. Fantastic.
I looked around the hallway to see if someone was hiding behind a plant watching me read it. No one. Just polished floors and expensive silence.
I shoved the phone into my pocket and forced my legs to move before I started spiraling in place like a confused Roomba. I needed to find Jade or a break room or anywhere that served coffee strong enough to shock my soul back into alignment.
The marketing floor was busier now. Phones ringing, keyboards clacking, people walking with purpose instead of the dazed "new employee shuffle." I slipped into the break room and grabbed a paper cup, mostly for something to hold so I didn't look like I was about to faint.
As the machine sputtered, I took out my phone again.
Maybe the text was a scam.Maybe someone was trying to sell me a warranty for a car I didn't own.Maybe—
Another message appeared.
Don't ignore this.
My stomach tightened.
I typed back before I could stop myself:
Who is this?
The reply came fast.
Someone who doesn't want you used.
Okay. That was definitely worse than a car warranty.
I shoved the phone away just as Jade walked in holding a folder and two granola bars.
"There you are," she said. "Your face looks like you've seen something illegal. Bad orientation feedback video?"
"Just… caffeine withdrawal," I said.
Not a lie. Just not the whole truth. The safe version of the truth.
Jade handed me a granola bar. "Eat. Sugar heals corporate trauma."
I smiled. "Are you the office medic?"
"I'm the office realist," she said. "Also, marketing just got out of a team meeting, so you're supposed to join the tour."
"Right. Yes. Tour." I nodded too fast. The nod of someone absolutely not handling their life.
But the second message wouldn't leave my mind:Someone who doesn't want you used.
Used for what?
Because according to Adrian, I'd already accidentally stepped on some kind of political landmine, and someone with executive-level access had been messing with my file.
Jade waved her hand. "Earth to Lena."
"Sorry," I said. "Long morning."
She walked with me down the hallway and introduced me to a dozen people whose names I instantly forgot because my brain was too full of corporate dread. The team seemed normal enough—busy, friendly, a mix of stressed energy and caffeine dependence.
Jess, our marketing manager, greeted me with a polite smile. "Welcome aboard! Sorry to grab you mid-chaos. We'll get you fully set up this afternoon."
"Looking forward to it," I said. It wasn't even sarcasm. I desperately wanted something normal.
Jess explained the current campaigns, handed me a packet, and walked off to a call. I was settling into my temporary desk when my phone buzzed again.
I didn't want to check it.
I checked it anyway.
We should meet. Today.
No name. No explanation. No normalcy.
I typed back:
If you don't tell me who you are, I'm blocking this number.
Three dots appeared. Disappeared. Reappeared. Whoever this was, they were typing like their life depended on it.
Then the message came.
You're in danger of becoming his shield. He does that to people.
A chill ran down my arms. Not dramatic, just quiet and cold, the kind you get when someone says something too specific.
My hand tightened around the phone.
I typed slowly:
If you mean Adrian Cole, I don't even know him.
Another message:
Exactly. That's when he chooses you.
Okay, great. So this wasn't a scammer. It was either a paranoid employee or a bored ghost. Wonderful options.
I looked up and scanned the marketing floor. No one was watching me. No one looked suspicious. But that didn't mean anything.
The phone buzzed one more time.
Meet me in Conference Room 4B at 3:10. Come alone. If Cole sees you, pretend you took a wrong turn.
I stared at the message. I stared at the time: 2:42. That gave me less than half an hour to decide whether I was going to be reckless or smart.
I wanted to choose smart.
Really. I did.
But I also wanted answers, and Adrian wasn't giving them.
My stomach tightened. A stressed knot. Great.
Jade popped her head over the divider. "You settling in?"
"Yeah," I said, smiling automatically. "Totally."
"Good. Team meeting at four. And there's a running joke that whoever sits in the left conference chair gets cursed with extra tasks, so don't choose that one."
"Noted."
She left, and I checked the time again.
2:48.
Conference Room 4B was on the opposite side of the floor.
I wasn't sure what bothered me more:the mystery,the warning,or the fact that some random person thought I needed to be protected from Adrian.
I didn't know him.But I knew one thing: he wasn't careless.
If someone was warning me about him, it meant they either knew something I didn't…or they were trying to involve me in something worse.
I didn't like either option.
At 3:05, after five minutes of pretending to read my onboarding packet, I stood. Slowly. Casually. Like I absolutely belonged here and wasn't sneaking toward a potentially stupid decision.
I walked down the hallway, past a row of glass offices, my fingers tapping lightly against the folder in my hand. My shoes didn't squeak this time. Maybe they were also stressed.
Conference 4B was at the end of the corridor. The door was closed. The glass was frosted, so I couldn't see inside.
I checked the time: 3:09.
My pulse picked up. Not wildly—just enough to make me question all my life choices.
I reached for the handle.
Before I touched it, a hand suddenly closed around it from the other side and pulled.
The door opened.
I froze.
And standing there, leaning against the table like he owned the entire room—and maybe he did—was Markus Hale.
Adrian's cousin.
The charming one. The too-friendly one. The one I'd only met briefly during onboarding paperwork but immediately filed under suspiciously smooth.
"Lena Hart," Markus said with a grin that could probably sell overpriced cologne. "Right on time."
I blinked. "You're the one texting me?"
"Guilty." He tapped his phone. "I thought if I used my name you'd report it straight to Adrian."
My shoulders tensed. "Why would I report anything?"
"Because he asked you to." Markus gave me a pointed look. "Let me guess—'If anything unusual happens, come directly to me.'"
My stomach dropped.
"How do you know about that?" I asked.
He pushed off the table and took a step forward—not threatening, just casually cutting the distance like he was allergic to personal space.
"Because I know Adrian," he said. "And I know how he operates when he's cornered."
"I think this is a misunderstanding."
"I don't." Markus folded his arms. "Your file was accessed by someone with executive clearance. A partner contract ended up in your hands. Adrian pulled you into his office twice in one day. And Internal Affairs flagged your profile."
I hated that he knew so much.
"I'm just an assistant," I said. "None of this has anything to do with me."
"That's exactly why it has everything to do with you," Markus said. "Adrian uses people he thinks won't fight back."
I frowned. That wasn't the impression I had. Adrian was many things—cold, controlled, impossible to read—but manipulative? I wasn't sure.
Markus watched my face. "He didn't tell you why the personal agreement exists, did he?"
"No," I admitted quietly.
"Of course he didn't." Markus sighed. "Because if you knew, you'd walk."
"I can't walk," I muttered. "I need the job."
"I know," he said softly. "And that's exactly why he'll keep you close. You're useful."
The word hit harder than I expected. Useful. Like an object.
I didn't want that to be true.And I really didn't want Markus to be right.
He leaned against the table again, arms still crossed.
"There's a board meeting next week," he said. "A big one. His aunt wants control of the company. The directors are pressuring him. His image matters right now."
I swallowed. "And what does that have to do with me?"
Markus hesitated, scanning my face like he was debating how much to say.
"Let me put it simply," he said. "He's going to ask you for something. Soon. Something big. And if you're not careful, you'll be pulled right into the middle of a war that isn't yours."
"That's what this is?" I whispered. "A war?"
"Corporate war," he corrected. "The worst kind. They don't use weapons—they use people."
The room felt smaller.
I didn't want this.I didn't want warnings or secrets or involvement in billionaire politics.
I just wanted to work, pay bills, and survive the next six months without accidentally ruining my life.
Markus lowered his voice.
"You can still avoid it," he said. "You're new. You're not tied to him yet."
Yet.
My throat tightened.
Before I could respond, someone knocked sharply on the open door. I turned.
Adrian stood there.
His expression wasn't angry. It wasn't even surprised. It was something harder to read—controlled, careful, and absolutely focused on Markus.
"Is there a reason," Adrian said, voice quiet, "that you're meeting with one of my employees without clearance?"
Markus gave him a lazy smile. "Relax. We were just chatting."
Adrian's gaze slid to me.
"Lena. With me."
It wasn't a request.
I stepped back, pulse ticking faster—not panicked, just sharp, like I'd grabbed the wrong wire in a toolbox.
Markus watched me go, his voice calm but pointed:
"Think about what I told you."
I didn't answer.
I followed Adrian out of the room, the air between us tense enough to feel—even without melodrama.
As the door closed behind us, Adrian spoke quietly, without looking at me.
"You are not to meet with Markus again."
"That wasn't exactly planned," I said. "He—"
"I'm aware," he said. "We'll discuss it in my office."
Great.
Another private meeting.
Another mystery.
And I still had no idea which one of them I was supposed to trust.