The Second Target
1074 Words
Sophia POV
The market opens at 9:30 a.m., but I don’t need a bell to tell me when something is about to shift.
By 9:31, Reid Corporation wavers. By 9:34, it bends. By 9:37… it starts to bleed.
I sit quietly, watching the numbers flicker across my screen. Calm. Controlled. No chaos, no panic. Just pressure, applied exactly where it needs to be.
Pressure never announces itself. It settles in slowly, layer by layer, until something solid starts to feel… unstable.
I lean back slightly, adjusting a position here, another there. Small moves. Careful ones. Nothing obvious. Nothing loud.
But none of this is accidental.
Every move means something. Every shift is intentional.
Exactly the way Alexander taught me to think.
The irony doesn’t escape me.
My encrypted line buzzes.
“He’s in the boardroom,” Laurent says.
His voice is calm. Too calm.
“They traced it.”
“Of course they did,” I reply, eyes still fixed on the screen.
There’s a pause. Laurent doesn’t rush, but something about the silence feels… heavier than usual.
“Clara delivered the report personally,” he adds.
My fingers stop moving.
Clara doesn’t do anything personally unless she wants to be seen doing it.
“Was she alone?” I ask.
“She was… observed.”
That slight hesitation catches my attention. Laurent doesn’t hesitate without reason.
“Keep watching her,” I say. Then, after a second, “And Laurent… if she moves again, I want to know before she decides to.”
A quiet acknowledgment. Then the line goes dead.
I sit back and let the silence settle around me.
Five years ago, I died.
Not metaphorically. Not emotionally.
Physically.
And yet… here I am.
Still moving. Still building. Still watching the man who buried me try to hold everything together while someone quietly pushes against the foundation of his world.
Sometimes I wonder which version of me is more dangerous.
The one who died…
or the one who learned how to survive without being seen.
The executive lounge is empty when I walk in.
Floor-to-ceiling glass. The city stretches endlessly beyond it. Power, control… distance.
I feel him before I see him.
“You’re attacking my company.”
His voice comes from behind me.
I don’t turn right away. I let the silence stretch just a little longer, letting him decide if he wants to step closer.
Then I turn.
Alexander stands a few steps away. Close enough that the air between us feels charged.
“He’s reacting,” I say calmly. “I’m responding.”
“You’re destabilizing Reid Corporation.”
“Or maybe your structure wasn’t as strong as you thought.”
His jaw tightens slightly. Not much, but I see it.
He steps closer. Too close.
And my body reacts before I can stop it.
Not fear. No hesitation.
Awareness.
He studies me like he’s searching for something… something familiar. Something he lost.
“Why are you here?” he asks quietly.
Not business. Not a strategy.
Something else.
I meet his gaze. “Opportunity.”
His eyes sharpen.
“If this is revenge,” he says, his voice dropping, “say it.”
Then, after a beat, “If it’s fear… admit it.”
Fear.
He still thinks that matters.
“I don’t fear you,” I tell him.
And I don’t.
That’s the part he doesn’t like.
Something shifts in his expression. Subtle, but not completely hidden.
My phone vibrates. A message. Another meeting. Perfect timing.
“I have somewhere to be,” I say.
I step past him, and my shoulder brushes against his suit.
It should mean nothing.
But it doesn’t.
There’s a flicker... a pause. Something unspoken passes between us in that brief contact.
Then it’s gone.
That evening, I entered the underground garage alone.
The elevator doors slide open, and I step inside. The doors close behind me. The descent begins.
Halfway down, the lights flicker.
Once.
Twice.
I look up just as the elevator jerks… then stops.
And then it drops.
Not enough to kill instantly.
But enough to understand.
This is not an accident.
The cable screams as it strains, the sound tearing through the shaft like something breaking apart.
For one second, I don’t react.
I think.
Again.
The fall deepens.
Then my body catches up.
Weightlessness.
And suddenly...
The emergency brake slams into place.
The impact throws me forward, and everything goes dark for a moment.
When I come to, the silence is heavy. Absolute.
My breathing sounds too loud. Too sharp.
“Not like this,” I whisper.
Not again.
Voices echo from above. Metal grinding. Movement.
Then hands.
The doors start to pry open, slowly, painfully, the metal screaming as the gap widens.
And then I see him.
Alexander.
His face is pale. Not composed. Not controlled.
Something in him has shifted.
“Give me your hand,” he says.
No hesitation. No calculation.
I hesitate anyway.
Just for a fraction of a second.
Then I take it.
His grip is firm. Too firm. Urgent.
He pulls me up hard, dragging me through the narrow opening. I stumble, and he catches me.
Not neatly. Not gracefully.
But instinctively.
His arms close around me, and for one second…
He holds on like he’s forgotten how to let go.
His hands are shaking.
Barely.
But I feel it.
“You could have died,” he says.
His voice isn’t steady.
It’s raw.
I look up at him.
“I already did.”
The words slip out before I can stop them.
They land between us, heavy and real.
For a moment, nothing else exists.
Then everything comes rushing back. Voices. Movement. Security flooding in.
He lets go slowly, forcing himself back under control.
“Investigate everything,” he orders.
But I saw it.
That crack.
It didn’t stay hidden.
Two hours later, I’m back in my hotel suite, sitting in silence.
Watching. Thinking.
My phone vibrates.
Unknown number.
You should have stayed dead.
My chest tightens.
Another message follows.
Next time, no brakes.
My fingers go cold.
This wasn’t random.
This was deliberate.
My laptop pings.
Security breach attempt detected — Source: internal.
Internal.
Reid Corporation.
I stare at the screen, then slowly exhale.
Alexander didn’t look like a man finishing a plan.
He looked like a man watching one unfold.
There’s a difference.
A dangerous one.
A knock sounds at my door.
Three taps.
“Room service"
- Writer
