The Offer
1356 Words
Chelsea kept replaying Violet’s message as the Uber drove her toward the address in the email.
“Be careful. Something isn’t normal.”
Violet didn’t even know the half of it.
Chelsea didn’t even get the chance to speak before the guards stepped aside and waved her into the mansion. That alone told her everything she needed to know.
Rich people didn’t invite you anywhere without a reason.
Rich people with private security? Even worse.
The house felt colder than the outside air. The huge front door opened without her touching it.
A man in his late fifties stood behind a polished mahogany desk, his posture straight, expression unreadable. He looked like someone who had never raised his voice yet always got what he wanted. The same man she’d seen in the painting behind the CEO’s office.
This was his father.
“Miss Chelsea Allison,” he said quietly.
Chelsea nodded. “Good evening, sir.”
“Sit.”
She did. The chair felt too soft, too expensive, it felt like nothing she has ever experienced, like she didn’t belong in it.
“I’m sure you’re wondering why I sent it to you.”
“Yes, sir.”
“You met my son today.”
Chelsea stiffened. “Yes, sir. It was an accident. I didn’t mean to—”
“I’m aware of the details.”
He slid a file toward her. Her face stared up from the first page.
That uneasy feeling crawled across her skin again.
Like someone was watching from behind her, even though no one was there.
Chelsea blinked. “Sir, I don’t understand why I’m here. If this is about me touching him—”
“It is,” he said simply.
Her breath caught. “I’m sorry, I really didn’t—”
“You misunderstand. I’m not angry.”
He leaned forward slightly.
“I’m interested.”
He slid a file toward her. Her own face stared back at her from the first page.
Her school ID picture.
Her address.
Her father’s death certificate.
Chelsea’s stomach dropped. “Sir… how did you get all this?”
He didn’t answer that.
Instead, he asked, “Are you aware my son has a condition?”
“I heard he reacts badly to touch.”
“Most people don’t last one second. His body rejects physical contact. It’s… uncontrollable.”
Chelsea nodded slowly.
“But today,” the man said, “my son touched you, and nothing happened.”
She tried to laugh it off, but her throat was too dry. “I can’t explain it, Sir. Maybe it was a fluke or a random coincidence.”
“There are no flukes in this family, neither do we have coincidences,” he replied simply.
Chelsea bit her lip. “Sir, I don’t understand why this concerns me.”
“I want you to stay close to my son. Permanently.”
Chelsea stared. “Permanently as in…?”
“As in marriage.”
Her mouth fell open. She choked on air. “Marriage? Sir, I—I don’t even know him!”
“You will learn,” he said.
“This is insane.”
“Is it?” he asked calmly. “You need money. You need protection. You need stability. And my son needs someone he can touch without dying.”
Chelsea shook her head. “No. No, I’m sorry. This isn’t a job offer. This is—this is something else. I can’t do this, it is too much.”
He looked at her the way a doctor looks at a patient who hasn’t realized how sick they are.
“I’m not asking you,” he said softly. “I’m warning you.”
Chelsea froze.
“People will come for you,” he continued. “People who should never know your name. You touched my son without consequence. That alone makes you… valuable.”
A cold wave ran through her.
Valuable.
Like an object.
“I don’t want trouble,” she whispered.
“Miss Allison,” he interrupted softly, “you don’t understand yet. The world is not as ordinary as you think.”
The lamps flickered again. Just like the printing room. Just like the corridor earlier. Just like the hallway in RioCorp.
But here, it was stronger. Almost like the bulb struggled against something in the room.
She swallowed hard.
Mr. Olan watched her reaction closely.
“Tell me,” he said, voice gentle, “have strange things been happening around you? Lights flickering… objects shifting… dreams you can’t explain… shadows moving when no one is behind you?”
Chelsea’s skin prickled.
She could lie.
She should lie
She didn’t answer, she didn’t have to.
The small smile that tugged the corner of his mouth confirmed he already knew.
Mr. Rodrigo closed the file and pushed it aside. “Go home. Think about it. But understand something: this is not an opportunity you refuse.”
Chelsea stood slowly. “May I go?”
“Yes, but be careful. You think you are ordinary, Miss Chelsea, but you are not. You have a gift you don’t understand yet. And people will come looking for that gift.”
Her breathing turned unsteady.
“What people?” she whispered.
“The kind that don’t take ‘no’ for an answer.”
Her palms went cold.
“I want to protect you,” he said. “But protection requires cooperation.”
Chelsea stood abruptly. “I need to go.”
He didn’t stop her. He only gave a small, satisfied nod.
“Think about the offer. But know this: once the wrong people discover you touched my son, they will come. Sooner than you think.”
Her legs trembled as she left the office.
---
Outside, the night air slammed into her like a bucket of water. She rushed toward the road, hands shaking. The mansion lights flickered behind her.
She didn’t look back. Her phone buzzed.
Violet: Where are you? Why is your location showing a mansion? You’re scaring me.
Chelsea stopped walking. Someone was watching her. She felt it again, like eyes deliberately pressing against her spine.
She turned, but she didn't find anything. Yet, the feeling didn’t leave. Her heartbeat pounded so loud she heard it in her ears.
She texted back: I’ll explain when I get to the hostel.
As she hurried down the street, she didn’t see the black car that started following her at a slow, steady distance.
Not too close.
Not too far.
Just enough to keep her in sight.
---
Meanwhile at the RioCorp Penthouse
Xavier stood at the balcony, staring out at the city, jaw tight.
He didn’t know why he felt restless and uneasy, like something had started without him.
His assistant approached him slowly.
“Sir… I heard your father summoned the girl.”
Xavier didn’t react at first.
Then his voice hardened. “Which girl?”
“The one from the interview.”
Xavier”s fingers tightened on the railing.
A flash crossed his mind, a soft voice, warm skin, the moment her hand brushed his. He saw and felt it, but he didn’t remember it.
“We never tell him anything,” Xavier said quietly. “And yet he already knows.”
His assistant swallowed. “What do you want me to do, sir?”
“Keep an eye on her,” Xavier said. “I don’t know why… but something about her isn’t normal.”
---
Chelsea’s Hostel — same night
Violet nearly tackled her when she walked in.
“Where have you been?! Why did your location say estate? Why are you shaking?”
Chelsea closed the door behind her.
“Violet,” she whispered, voice breaking, “I think I’m in trouble.”
Violet grabbed her shoulders. “What happened?”
Chelsea opened her mouth to explain.
Before she spoke, the lights in the room flickered, then flickered again, then burst brightly, too bright before returning to normal.
Violet gasped. “What was that?”
Chelsea didn’t answer.
Because deep down she knew: Something inside her had reacted. And whatever it was, was getting stronger.
---
- Writer
