The closer I get
992 Words
I didn’t expect the project to start immediately.
But it did.
No adjustment period.
No slow introduction.
Just a file, a directive, and a silent understanding that I was already behind.
I sat at my desk, the folder open in front of me, scanning through pages that didn’t look unusual at first glance.
Reports.
Budgets.
Internal transfers.
Normal.
Routine.
But the longer I looked—
The more something felt… off.
Not obvious.
Not careless.
Subtle.
Too subtle.
Like numbers that almost made sense.
Like decisions that looked reasonable—until you questioned them.
And once you did—
Everything shifted.
“Lara?”
I looked up.
Mina stood beside my desk, watching me closely.
“You’ve been staring at that file for an hour.”
“Have I?” I asked absently.
“Yes,” she said. “And you haven’t blinked much either, which is slightly concerning.”
I exhaled softly, leaning back in my chair.
“Something’s wrong with this,” I said.
She stepped closer.
“What do you mean?”
I tapped the page lightly.
“These numbers—they’re consistent, but not natural.”
She frowned.
“That sounds like something Ethan would say.”
That made me pause.
Because she wasn’t wrong.
And I didn’t like how quickly I was starting to think in the same patterns.
“It just doesn’t add up,” I muttered.
Mina studied the file briefly, then looked back at me.
“Do you think this is why he picked you?”
“Maybe.”
Or maybe he picked me because I was already being pushed out.
Because I was easier to manipulate.
Because I had something to prove.
I didn’t know yet.
And that uncertainty—
It stayed with me.
—
By the time I was called upstairs again, I already had questions.
Too many.
And not enough answers.
—
Ethan was standing by the window when I entered, just like before.
Like nothing about his routine ever changed.
“You found something,” he said without turning.
Not a question.
A statement.
I closed the door behind me.
“Something doesn’t make sense.”
He turned then, his gaze settling on me immediately.
“Explain.”
I stepped closer, placing the file on his desk.
“These transfers—on paper, they’re balanced. But the timing is off. Too consistent. Almost… controlled.”
He watched me quietly as I spoke.
Not interrupting.
Not correcting.
Just listening.
And for some reason—
That made me more aware of every word I said.
“Continue,” he said.
“It’s like someone is adjusting the system just enough to avoid attention,” I added. “But not enough to raise suspicion.”
Silence followed.
Then—
“You’re catching on faster than expected.”
That should’ve felt like a compliment.
But it didn’t.
It felt like confirmation.
Like I had just stepped deeper into something I couldn’t step out of.
“Who’s doing it?” I asked.
His gaze held mine.
“Still asking questions you’re not ready for.”
Frustration flickered inside me.
“Then when will I be ready?”
A small pause.
“When you stop asking who—and start understanding why.”
That wasn’t helpful.
Not directly.
But it meant something.
Something I needed to figure out.
—
“Why me?” I asked again.
He didn’t hesitate this time.
“Because you’re paying attention.”
That answer stayed with me.
Because it wasn’t about skill.
Or experience.
It was about awareness.
And awareness—
Was dangerous.
—
“Come here,” he said suddenly.
I hesitated for a second.
Then moved.
Because somehow—
Saying no didn’t feel like an option.
He stepped aside slightly, giving me space near the desk.
Close enough to see the documents clearly.
Close enough to feel the shift in the air between us.
“Look again,” he said.
I did.
But this time—
I wasn’t just looking at the numbers.
I was looking for patterns.
Intentions.
Gaps.
And slowly—
Something started forming.
“They’re not random,” I said.
“No.”
“They’re targeted.”
“Yes.”
My breath slowed.
“Then this isn’t just internal mismanagement.”
“No,” he said quietly. “It’s controlled movement.”
The words settled heavily.
Because that meant—
This wasn’t a mistake.
It was a system.
A strategy.
Something planned.
And suddenly—
Everything felt bigger.
More dangerous.
More real.
—
I straightened slightly, turning toward him.
And for a moment—
We were closer than I expected.
Close enough to notice the details.
The steadiness in his gaze.
The control in his posture.
The way nothing about him felt accidental.
And that awareness—
It shifted something.
Subtle.
But undeniable.
“You already knew,” I said.
“Of course.”
“Then why involve me?”
A small pause.
Then—
“Because now you know too.”
That answer—
It wasn’t comforting.
It was a warning.
Because knowledge like this—
Came with consequences.
—
“And what happens next?” I asked.
His gaze didn’t waver.
“You keep looking.”
“And if I find something bigger?”
“You will.”
No hesitation.
No doubt.
Just certainty.
—
I exhaled slowly, stepping back slightly.
Because I needed space.
Needed distance.
Needed something to ground me again.
“This isn’t just about my job anymore,” I said.
“No,” he agreed.
“And you’re okay with pulling me into this?”
“I didn’t pull you in,” he said calmly.
A pause.
“You stepped in.”
That was true.
And we both knew it.
—
As I turned to leave, one thought stayed with me.
Clear.
Unavoidable.
The closer I got to the truth—
The less control I actually had.
—
And somehow—
I knew I was already too far in to stop.
- Writer
