Chapter 5: The File
473 Words
Sophie clutched her phone tightly. “You want me to do what?”
Marcus leaned over her desk, his expression dark. “I need access to Damien’s files. If he’s involved with Elena, I need dirt. Something to get him out of the way—or at least, remind him she comes with baggage.”
“You’re insane.”
“No, I’m desperate,” he growled. “You still want that Paris promotion, don’t you? Then you’ll do as I say.”
Sophie stared at him in horror. But she said nothing as he slid a flash drive across the table.
Meanwhile, I found myself alone in Damien’s home office. He had left for a late-night call with Tokyo, asking me to make myself comfortable. I had wandered curiously through the shelves of rare books and awards until I noticed a cabinet slightly ajar.
Inside was a file. Thick. Labeled only with my name.
I stared at it.
My pulse thudded in my ears.
And then I opened it.
The pages inside the file were thick with annotations. Printed reports, surveillance photos, emails. A detailed timeline of my life—where I had worked, who I had dated before Marcus, even the address of my first apartment.
A chill crept down my spine. I flipped through page after page, growing sicker with each one.
How long had Damien been watching me?
Why?
Then I saw it—buried beneath a letter from my old college professor was a photo of a woman I hadn’t seen in years. My mother. The caption read: “Subject’s maternal connection to Blackwood Pharmaceuticals—pending DNA confirmation.”
I dropped the file.
What did this mean?
Footsteps echoed down the hall.
Damien appeared in the doorway, his expression unreadable. His eyes flicked to the open file, and for the first time since I met him, I saw hesitation.
“You were investigating me,” I said, my voice shaking.
He stepped forward. “Elena—”
“Don’t,” I snapped, backing away. “You said you wanted to rewrite my story—not control it. What is this? Who am I to you really?”
His eyes softened. “You’re more important than you know. I didn’t start looking into you for personal reasons. At first… it was business. But it became something else.”
I shook my head. “You lied to me.”
“I didn’t lie. I just didn’t tell you everything.”
I turned to leave, my heart pounding. “That’s the same thing.”
As I stormed down the hallway, he called after me.
“Elena—your mother worked for my father. She was killed in a fire no one could explain. And I think she died protecting something. Something tied to you.”
I froze.
And slowly, I turned
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