Chapter 6: The Offer
1405 Words
LENA'S POV
By Wednesday morning, my apartment no longer felt like home.
I had checked the locks three times before leaving, peeked through the peephole twice, and jumped at every unfamiliar sound in the hallway.
Whoever had been standing outside my building the night before had disappeared without a trace, but the image of him lingered in my mind.
I hated feeling afraid.
Fear clouded judgment.
And judgment was the one thing I couldn't afford to lose.
My phone buzzed just as I stepped into the newsroom.
Unknown Number.
Again.
I frowned before answering.
"This is Lena."
"Miss Carter."
A woman's calm, professional voice greeted me.
"My name is Claire. I'm Mr. Adrian Knight's executive assistant."
I froze.
"I hope I'm not catching you at a bad time."
"That depends."
A soft chuckle came through the phone.
"Mr. Knight would like to meet with you again."
"I already interviewed him."
"This isn't an interview."
"Then what is it?"
"A conversation."
"I'm busy."
"I believe you'll want to hear what he has to say."
Before I could refuse, she added, "Three o'clock. Knight Studios."
The call ended.
No room for negotiation.
Typical billionaire behavior.
...
"I don't like it."
Harold folded his arms as I explained the phone call.
"He could be trying to manipulate you."
"Or he actually wants to talk."
"He has lawyers for that."
I shrugged.
"Then maybe he doesn't want lawyers involved."
Harold sighed.
"If you go, keep your phone on."
"I always do."
"And don't agree to anything without thinking it through."
I smiled.
"When have I ever made reckless decisions?"
He stared at me.
"Do you want the short list or the long one?"
I laughed despite myself.
"Point taken."
...
At exactly three o'clock, I walked into Knight Studios.
This time, I knew the route to Adrian's office.
Claire greeted me with a warm smile.
"Mr. Knight is waiting."
"Does he always expect people to arrive exactly on time?"
"Only the people who matter."
I wasn't sure whether that was a compliment or a warning.
She opened the office door.
Adrian was standing by the coffee machine instead of the window.
His jacket was gone, and the sleeves of his crisp white shirt were rolled to his forearms.
For a brief, embarrassing second, I forgot why I was there.
He looked up.
"You came."
"I almost didn't."
"But you did."
His voice carried that same impossible calm.
He poured coffee into two mugs.
"Cream?"
"I didn't say I wanted coffee."
"You look like someone who hasn't slept."
I blinked.
Was it that obvious?
"I'll take that as a yes."
He handed me a mug.
I hesitated before accepting it.
"If this is poisoned, it'll make an interesting headline."
A quiet laugh escaped him.
"If I wanted to silence you, poisoning you in my office would be remarkably inefficient."
I hated that I laughed.
Even more, I hated that he noticed.
"Please," he said, gesturing toward the sitting area.
This time, I sat.
"So," I began, wrapping both hands around the warm mug, "what was so important?"
He didn't answer immediately.
Instead, he studied me.
Not in the arrogant way most celebrities did.
More like he was trying to solve a puzzle.
"You've been receiving anonymous messages."
The mug nearly slipped from my hands.
My heartbeat stumbled.
"...How do you know that?"
"I have people monitoring what's being said about me."
"That's not an answer."
"No."
"It's not."
The room fell silent.
"You've been followed," he continued.
"You don't know that."
"I do."
Every muscle in my body tensed.
"Were you the one watching my apartment?"
His expression hardened.
"No."
"Then who was?"
"I don't know."
"Liar."
His jaw tightened.
"If I wanted to lie, I wouldn't have invited you here."
I stood.
"This meeting is over."
"Lena."
The way he said my name stopped me.
It wasn't commanding.
It wasn't pleading.
It was... concerned.
"I know you're angry," he said quietly.
"But you're asking the wrong question."
I crossed my arms.
"Enlighten me."
"The question isn't who's following you."
I frowned.
"It's why."
I stared at him.
"What does that mean?"
"It means someone wants you investigating me."
I laughed bitterly.
"That's convenient."
"It isn't."
"They're sending me evidence against you."
"Exactly."
He took a slow step closer.
"If I were guilty, why would someone keep handing you pieces of the puzzle?"
I opened my mouth.
Then closed it.
Because...
He had a point.
If someone truly wanted to protect Adrian, they wouldn't keep feeding me information.
Unless...
They wanted me to find something.
Or someone.
"What aren't you telling me?" I whispered.
He looked away.
For the first time since I'd met him, he hesitated.
"There are things I can't explain."
"Can't?"
"Or won't?"
His silence answered for him.
I shook my head.
"I knew it."
"You don't."
"I do."
"No, Lena."
His voice was firmer now.
"You know fragments."
I hated that word.
Fragments.
Because that's exactly what this investigation felt like.
Pieces that refused to fit together.
Adrian walked back to his desk and picked up a thin black folder.
He placed it on the table between us.
"I want to make you an offer."
I looked at the folder but didn't touch it.
"What kind of offer?"
"Continue your investigation."
"I already planned to."
"But do it properly."
I frowned.
Did he seriously tell me to do my job properly. Uhm excuse you. Whatever he's an arrogant bastard anyway. Calm down Lena, just flash him your fake adorable smile, get whatever the f**k you need and then bounce the hell out of here.
"What does that mean?"
"It means I'll answer your questions."
I blinked.
"What?"
"You'll have access to my schedule."
I stared.
"My staff."
I said nothing.
"My business records where legally possible."
I couldn't believe what I was hearing.
"And in return?" I asked cautiously.
He met my eyes.
"One promise."
"There it is."
"If the evidence proves I'm guilty..."
He paused.
"...publish everything."
I wasn't expecting that.
"But if it proves I'm innocent..."
His gaze never left mine.
"...have the courage to write that story too."
For several seconds, neither of us spoke.
Most powerful men wanted favorable headlines.
Adrian wanted the truth.
Or at least...
He wanted me to believe he did.
I slowly picked up the folder.
"I'm not making any promises."
"I know."
"I'll write whatever the facts say."
A faint smile appeared on his face.
"That's exactly why I chose you."
The words caught me off guard.
"You... chose me?"
"Out of every reporter in the country."
He nodded once.
"Because you chase facts."
Not fame.
Not money.
Facts.
For some reason...
That compliment meant more than it should have.
I slipped the folder into my bag and stood.
"This changes nothing."
"I know."
"I still don't trust you."
"I know."
I narrowed my eyes.
"You say that a lot."
"Because trust isn't something I expect."
There was something painfully honest about the way he said it.
For a fleeting second...
I wondered what had happened to make a man like Adrian Knight stop expecting trust.
Then I remembered who he was.
A billionaire.
An actor.
A man surrounded by secrets.
I pushed the thought away.
As I reached the door, his voice stopped me one last time.
"Lena."
I looked back.
"If you notice anything unusual..."
His expression grew serious.
"...call me before you call the police."
I stared at him. Now that's a weird thing to say.
"Why?"
"Because whoever is coming after you..."
His jaw tightened.
"...they're not finished."
...
My heart was still racing when I arrived home just after sunset.
I unlocked my apartment door.
The moment I stepped inside, every instinct I had screamed that something was wrong.
The lamp beside the couch had been knocked over.
Books were scattered across the floor.
My desk drawers hung open.
My closet door stood wide open.
Someone had been here.
Someone had searched every corner of my apartment.
With trembling hands, I reached for my phone.
Then I noticed it.
A single sheet of white paper sitting neatly on my coffee table.
Nothing else had been left behind.
Just six words written in black ink.
Stop f*****g looking for Ethan Blake.
I forgot to breathe.
Whoever had broken into my apartment hadn't come to steal.
They had come to send a message.
And somehow...
They knew exactly which name I was chasing.
- Writer
