Chapter 2: Call your bluff!
1086 Words
He stopped a few feet away, his gaze locked on me.
“I want you to come work for me. Research assistant.
Maddox Media.
You’ll learn more in a month under me than four years in any lecture hall.”
The offer hit me like a bucket of ice cold water.
I didn’t respond right away. I couldn’t.
Something about this didn’t feel like an opportunity.
It felt like a hollow ache.
“You don’t know me,” I said again, firmer this time.
Louis’s expression didn’t change.
“Not yet.”
A laugh caught my throat. “And what exactly would I be researching?”
His eyes darkened, just slightly. “Power. Choice. The illusion of control.”
My breath seized.
Something shifted in the air between us— charged and dangerous, like the second before a lightning strike. I didn’t know why my hands were shaking. I just knew that a line had been crossed. Or maybe it had never existed in the first place.
Louis glanced at his watch.
Then back at me. “8 a.m. tomorrow. Maddox Hall. Top floor.”
I opened my mouth about to respond, but he cut me off with a final line — a soft murmur that landed like a command:
“If you want to survive this place, Lily Grace... learn how to stop running.”
Then he turned and walked away, his figure swallowed by the cathedral shadows of the hallway beyond.
I stood alone in the class, heart racing.
I wasn’t sure if it was anger, fear, or something far more dangerous that curled in my chest.
But I knew this much:
Whatever tomorrow held — whatever game this man was playing — I had already stepped onto the board.
And the rules?
They weren’t written for someone like me.
“You think you chose Lu-Rose?” Louis asked softly. “You didn’t. I chose you.”
8:01 a.m. the next day.
I was already two minutes late.
I stood outside Maddox Hall, staring at a silent reflection of a world I couldn't quite grasp. He told me to meet him here.
The building didn’t belong on the university campus.
It belonged in a Gotham skyline.
The alarm security panel flashed beside the door. I didn’t even have a keycard. Of course I didn’t, what was I thinking?
“Figures,” I muttered under my breath.
I turned to leave—just for effect—but the door hissed open before I could take a single step.
The air conditioning inside gave me a decent whack . Cold, clean, surgical.
I hesitated.
My instincts cried out ‘ turned around’.
But my ego whispered don’t flinch now.
I courageously stepped inside.
The lobby was wooden marble and creeped haunted. No reception desk. No student clutter.
Just minimalist furniture, a flickering absurd abstract sculpture, and the oppressive feeling that someone was always watching.
Immediately, I decided to rethink my life choices and question my decision to be here.
Elevators lined one side of the room like soldiers in formation. One opened.
No buttons. No directions.
I stepped in, chest pounding and all, wondering if I was actually walking into a horror movie dressed as a high-end internship.
The doors slid closed.
And then… it moved.
No music. No number display. Just a soft hum of motion and my own reflection staring back at me—skin as white as snow, a bad hair day,and the faintest tremble in my fingers.
When the doors finally opened, l found myself in what could only be described as a penthouse office.
Glass walls. Sleek desks. A skyline view of the city beyond. Cold rain smeared the windows like tears.
And Louis Maddox was already waiting.
He stood by the window, dressed in another sinfully expensive suit, holding a cup of black coffee like it had never dared burn him.
His gaze didn’t meet mine. Not yet.
“You’re late.”
“I debated not showing up at all,” I said, stepping into the space confidently like l belonged there — even though I looked a wreck.
My boots drenched from the rain, my jeans clung to her knees, and her thrifted coat dripped on the Italian imported rug.
He turned slowly, eyes sweeping over me like a searchlight. Controlled. Calculating.
He took a sip of his coffee. “But you did.”
I lifted my chin. “Curiosity is a dangerous thing.”
“It’s also a profitable one.” He said in a deep and soft tone.
I smirked. “And I suppose you’ll help me monetize it?”
“I’ll teach you how to weaponize it.”
There it was again — that cool confidence that made me want to punch him or kiss him or maybe both.
God, l hated that.
He gestured toward a long glass table. On it lay a tablet, a folder, and a notepad with my name written in dark ink across the top.
‘You really went through all the stops, huh?’
Prepared. Prepared was an understatement
He had this ready before l even said yes.
“You’re not subtle,” l said.
“I’m not trying to be.”
I walked over, flipping open the folder. My file.
Academic scores. Essay excerpts. A photograph l didn’t even remember taking.
“You’ve been watching me.” I said with a surprised look.
He leaned against the window, crossing one ankle over the other.
“You stood up to me. In public. With fire in your voice. That doesn’t happen often.”
“And what — that made me a target?”
“No,” he said. “That made you interesting.”
My stomach twisted. Part rage. Part something l didn’t want to name.
“This job… Is it real?” I said with hesitation.
He smiled. “That depends. Can you keep up?”
I didn’t look away and replied. “Can you?”
The first assignment came fast.
Louis walked me through a confidential pitch — a political documentary Maddox Media planned to launch in an election year.
The topic? Voter suppression and manipulation in social media narratives.
Twisted. Messy. Morally grey.
Just like him.
I took notes. Asked hard questions. Pushed back when he expected me to agree, drawing closer with every argument .
By noon, l was counting stars above my head, exhausted.
By one, I’d forgotten I was being tested.
At two, he called my name as I packed up to leave.
“Lily.”
- Writer
