CHAPTER TWO-THE DEVIL'S FLOOR
720 Words
LILA
It wasn’t the penthouse that unnerved me.
It was the silence.
The kind that didn’t come from absence but from control. Soundproofed walls. Automated lights. Every corner of the place was tailored for efficiency, perfection, and… surveillance?
I dragged my suitcase across the living room’s glossy concrete floor. No warmth. No clutter. No sign anyone had lived here except they had.
The toothbrush in the second bathroom.
The lipstick smudge on a wineglass tucked behind others.
A faint scent of jasmine that didn’t belong to me.
Someone had been here before me. Recently. And she hadn’t planned on leaving.
I wasn’t here to snoop.
But I also wasn’t here to play house in a billionaire’s haunted apartment.
I set my things down and texted Jade.
> Me: Moved in. Place is too clean. Creepy-clean.
Jade: Just don’t fall in love with him.
Me: I’d rather swallow Legos.
My phone buzzed again—but this time, it wasn’t her.
Unknown Number:
> Dinner. 9PM. Wear something black.
No name. No location. Just the command.
I didn’t need to ask who it was.
---
The restaurant wasn’t public.
It wasn’t even on the map.
An elevator opened at the top floor of a building in Midtown and revealed a single table on a rooftop, set like it belonged in a cinematic nightmare. Glass walls. No music. A full skyline and one man waiting with two glasses of wine, untouched.
Ethan.
No jacket. Just a button-down with the top two buttons undone and that same unnerving stillness.
I walked to the table. “So this is the part where you try to impress me?”
“I don’t impress. I offer experiences.”
I sat, folding my arms. “I thought this job didn’t come with perks.”
“It doesn’t. This is a briefing.”
He nodded toward the wine.
I didn’t drink.
He noticed.
Good.
“I want a full concept draft by next Thursday,” he said. “Three mood boards. Full mockup. You’ll have access to the project team at my office—on my schedule.”
I nodded. “Fine. And I want transparency.”
He raised a brow. “About?”
“Why me. You could’ve hired any designer in the city.”
“I didn’t want any designer in the city.”
“That’s not an answer.”
He leaned forward, elbows on the table, voice like steel velvet.
“Tell me, Lila. What would you do if the person who destroyed your family smiled in your face every day like nothing happened?”
I blinked. “Excuse me?”
“You’d want them close. Close enough to watch. Close enough to ruin. Close enough to learn how they bleed.”
A cold chill ran down my spine.
“Are you saying I—?”
“No,” he interrupted smoothly. “I’m not accusing you of anything. I’m giving you a scenario.”
His glass clinked as he picked it up. “But it’s fascinating how quickly your mind went there.”
I stared at him. “Is this your idea of a mind game?”
“No,” he said. “This is the part where you realize you’ve entered a world that doesn’t run on fairness or truth. It runs on leverage. Timing. Obsession.”
“And where do I fit into that world?” I whispered.
He gave a small, unreadable smile.
“You’re either my leverage… or my obsession.”
The silence cracked between us like thunder.
I stood up.
“I’m not afraid of you, Ethan.”
His gaze didn’t waver. “You should be afraid of the truth.”
---
Back at the apartment, I dropped my keys, kicked off my heels—and froze.
The mirror in the hallway had a fingerprint on the inside.
Not mine.
I opened the closet.
Tucked between the extra towels and ironed sheets was a silk scarf… with initials embroidered in the corner:
A.K.
I didn't know who she was.
But something told me she didn't leave this place by choice.
And now I was living on the same floor… in the same room.
On the same terms.
His terms.
Only this time, I wasn’t here to obey.
I was here to uncover the war I’d just been drafted into.
- Writer
