BOUGHT TO BE LOVED

Amara, did you touch the procurement file?" Cynthia stood over my desk, one brow raised, lips barely curled in what she probably thought was a smile. I felt a surge of defensiveness. "I was reviewing it," I said cautiously, "per Mr. Ayeni’s instructions." Cynthia's smile vanished, and she stalked away, her heels clicking like accusations against the tiled floor. I clicked open the shared folder and saw the error. Someone had used my system login timestamp to push through the final version. Someone wanted to frame me. I stared at the screen, my mind racing. Clause 7.2: “Logistics costs projected at ₦220M.” It should’ve said ₦180M. I'd noted the discrepancy but hadn’t corrected it. I knew better than to edit financials. I grabbed my notes and marched straight to Ayeni’s office. He barely looked up. “Sir, regarding the procurement file—” “Later,” he said, flipping through a folder. “I’m reviewing Lex’s brief now.” I felt a surge of frustration. No one was going to fight for me here. Not Ayeni. Not Cynthia. Not anyone. Except me. I pulled up the file again at my desk, scanned the metadata, and traced the login trail. There it was. Someone had signed in using my credentials five minutes after I left the floor yesterday. My laptop had been logged off by then. But my desktop computer—the one I didn’t shut down? Still active. Someone used it. And I had one guess who. I crafted a new memo, using legal terms and a formal tone. I made it clear: someone altered a figure after initial review, and unless corrected, Lawson & Grey would be misrepresenting costs by ₦40 million. I attached screenshots, document history, and a comparison sheet. I sent it to Lex directly. Hours passed. Nothing. By 4:00 p.m., Cynthia was laughing in the break room with two junior partners. Like the scandal never touched her desk. But then, my screen pinged. Subject: RFX Procurement From: Lex Lawson Message: Noted. Implement the correction in the final review. Use your own logins only. No one else’s. It was a small victory, but it meant something. He’d seen it. He believed me. He trusted me to fix it. And more importantly, he knew someone else had tampered with my system. As I packed up to leave, my phone buzzed. A new message. Unknown number. “Nice save. But you’re in deeper than you think.” I froze. Then another message followed: “You should’ve kept your mouth shut.” I backed away from my desk, scanning the empty office. Outside the glass, the hallway flickered, motion lights switching off. Everyone had gone. Except me. And whoever had my number. The night security handed me a plain brown envelope. No name. Just my name scribbled in block letters: AMARA. I opened it with trembling hands. Inside was a printout of the RFX file. The doctored version. My initials were forged under the sign-off. Stapled to the back was a note, handwritten in red ink. “Keep playing detective, and your mum’s hospital won’t take her back next time.” My heart sank. Who was behind this? And what did they want from me? Lex didn’t say a word, but I felt his gaze lingering as I clicked through the file, my fingers moving fast across the keyboard. My pulse thudded in my ears, louder than the quiet hum of the office. The correction was small but precise, something overlooked, buried deep in numbers and clauses. I stole a glance at him, and our eyes met for a brief moment. "You caught that," he finally said, his voice low and smooth. I nodded, trying to appear confident. "It didn’t match the earlier figures in the financial summary. If it went unnoticed, it could have caused issues later." Silence stretched, heavy and charged. His jaw tightened, and he leaned back in his chair, assessing me as though I were a puzzle he hadn’t expected to solve tonight. "Not bad," he murmured, his voice a little softer than before. It wasn’t praise, exactly. It was closer to... acknowledgment. My heart shouldn’t have leapt at those two clipped words, but it did. As I shut the file and saved the changes, Lex’s eyes didn’t leave me. He was too still, too focused, and the air between us seemed to thrum with something I couldn’t name. I looked away, pretending to straighten the stack of papers on his desk. "Do you always double-check things that aren’t your responsibility?" he asked suddenly, his tone probing. I met his gaze, trying to read him. "Only when mistakes stand out," I said carefully. "I don’t like loose ends." The corner of his mouth twitched, almost amused. "Neither do I." I should have left it there. I should have excused myself, walked out of his office, and left him to his empire of spotless precision. But instead, I found myself asking, "Was it a test?" His brow arched, and for a second, his composure cracked. His eyes darkened, and I saw something in him that was sharper than steel, heavier than control. "You’re more observant than I expected," he said at last, his voice low and measured. I didn’t know if that was a warning or... something else. Before I could reply, his phone buzzed on the desk. He glanced at it, and his features shifted—hard, cold, the billionaire mask sliding back into place. Without a word, he stood and stepped aside to take the call. His voice dropped low, clipped in urgency, but I caught fragments. "Not now… Move the meeting… No, it cannot leak." As I left his office, I felt a sense of unease. The air was thick with tension, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was in over my head. And then, my phone buzzed in my pocket. Unknown number. One message. “Don’t trust him. He isn’t who you think he is.” My breath caught, the hallway suddenly too quiet, too empty. Another message arrived, seconds later. “If you value your life, stay away from Alexander Kane.” I felt a chill run down my spine as I stared at the glowing screen. Who was behind these messages? I stared at the message until the letters blurred. My throat tightened, and for a heartbeat, I couldn’t move. It wasn’t just the words; it was the certainty behind them. Whoever sent this knew him. Knew something I didn’t. I felt a shiver run down my spine as I glanced back at Lex’s office door. The frosted glass glowed faintly from the light inside, his silhouette still moving with controlled precision. He looked like a man who had nothing to hide. But that message... My thumb hovered over the screen, torn between deleting it and demanding answers. A million thoughts collided in my head—was this a sick prank? A warning from someone inside his world? Or worse... the truth? The phone buzzed again. A third message. Check the file you just corrected. You’ll see it. My pulse spiked. My hands went cold. Slowly, as though my body wasn’t my own, I opened the document again, scrolling past the figures I had fixed. At first, everything looked normal. But then I saw it, a hidden note buried in the metadata. Words appeared that I hadn’t written. You’re already in danger. Run. My heart was racing now. What did it mean? And who was behind these messages? I felt like I was trapped in a web of secrets and lies, and I didn’t know how to escape.