Julia Harker
954 Words
(Ava’s POV)
Sleep wasn’t an option. The email sat in my inbox like a loaded weapon, that single name—Julia Harker—burning through the dark. I read it again, hoping the letters might rearrange into something less ominous.
They didn’t.
At six a.m., the city outside my window began to stir—cabs honking, steam rising from manholes, a siren wailing somewhere far away. New York’s heartbeat never stopped; it just shifted tempo. Mine, unfortunately, had joined in.
Who was Julia Harker?
And why did someone want me to ask him about her?
By eight, I was back at my desk, half-finished coffee beside me, the photo open on my screen. Dante Voss and Julia Harker—both smiling for the cameras at some glittering charity gala two years ago. She was striking—dark hair, cool eyes, the posture of someone used to power.
A quick search told me she’d been his former Chief Operations Officer. Resigned abruptly. No interviews. No public trace after that.
And if there’s one thing I’d learned as a journalist, it’s that when people vanish quietly, it’s never by accident.
I called Miranda, my editor.
“Morning, boss.”
“Why do you sound like you’re calling from a crime scene?”
“Because I might be.”
She sighed audibly. “Ava, please tell me you haven’t gotten in deeper with Voss.”
“Define ‘deeper.’”
“Ava.”
“I’m following a lead,” I said quickly. “Julia Harker. She used to work for him, disappeared right before the data manipulation scandal. Someone just sent me a picture of them together.”
“Anonymous again?”
“Of course.”
“Then don’t trust it. And don’t go near him without telling me first.”
I hesitated. “Too late.”
There was a long pause on the other end. “I’m going to start drinking before noon because of you.”
Voss Tower loomed like a mirror-bright accusation when I arrived. My press badge probably shouldn’t have gotten me past security, but I’d learned that if you walked like you belonged, people assumed you did.
The elevator ride felt endless. When the doors opened, Dante was waiting—no smile this time, just sharp focus.
“You’re early,” he said.
“You’re predictable,” I shot back, handing him the printout of the photo. “Care to explain this?”
His gaze flicked over it once before meeting mine. “Where did you get this?”
“An anonymous email. You going to pretend you don’t know her?”
He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he walked to the window, hands in his pockets, eyes on the skyline. “Julia Harker was my second-in-command. Brilliant. Ruthless. She built half of what you see here.”
“Then why did she leave?”
“She didn’t leave.” His voice went flat. “I fired her.”
“Why?”
He turned then, and for the first time since I’d met him, I saw something raw flicker behind his calm. “Because she crossed a line.”
“What kind of line?”
“The kind you don’t come back from.”
The silence between us stretched, taut and uneasy. I could feel my pulse in my throat.
“Was she the leak?” I asked.
“I don’t know,” he said. “But if she’s resurfaced, it means this goes deeper than I thought.”
I studied him carefully. “You sound more worried than surprised.”
He met my gaze. “Because I know what she’s capable of.”
We moved into his office, a glass-walled nerve center high above the city. Holographic displays still flickered with code from the night before.
“Julia Harker handled most of our data contracts,” he said. “If anyone could forge the documents you received, it would be her.”
“Any reason she’d want to frame you?”
“Several.” His tone was grim. “But revenge would be too simple. Julia doesn’t act without strategy. If she’s playing a game, we’re already behind.”
I pulled out my notepad. “Then we find her.”
He looked at me, the faintest spark of amusement breaking through the tension. “You say that like it’s easy.”
“I’m a journalist. Finding people who don’t want to be found is my love language.”
That earned the smallest smile. “Then we’ll start with the last place she worked before she disappeared.”
“Which is?”
He tapped a command, and a map appeared—a satellite image of an office complex in New Jersey, labeled Harker Consulting LLC.
I frowned. “You’re kidding. She opened her own firm? That’s barely two hours away.”
“She’s smart,” he said. “Close enough to watch, far enough to hide.”
The drive to New Jersey was… awkward, at first. The car hummed quietly while the city gave way to bridges, then highways, then industrial sprawl.
I glanced at him once or twice, but Dante was all focus, jaw set, eyes distant. It was like watching someone hold himself perfectly still just to keep from breaking.
Finally I said, “You don’t trust easily, do you?”
He looked at me, faintly surprised. “Neither do you.”
“Touché.”
A pause. Then, softer: “Trust has cost me before.”
I wanted to ask if he meant Julia Harker, but something in his expression told me not to.
Instead, I said, “Well, if it helps, I don’t trust you either.”
That earned a quiet laugh. “Good. Keeps things interesting.”
- Writer
