CHAPTER 4: The edge of truth
840 Words
The next morning, the city felt different. Maybe it was me. Maybe something had shifted during that quiet walk with Adrian, something invisible but impossible to ignore.
My phone buzzed just as I poured coffee into a cup. A message. Unknown number.
“You shouldn’t trust him.”
The words froze me in place. No name. No explanation. Just a warning.
I stared at the screen, heart pounding, before locking the phone. It had to be a prank. No one knew about Adrian except me, and last night hadn’t even felt real. Yet the message felt personal, almost urgent.
The day dragged on as I tried to focus on work. My editor’s voice blurred in my ears as he discussed an upcoming story. Something about corruption, a billionaire’s missing accounts, and a shadow company called Cross Industries.
My pen slipped from my hand. Cross.
Adrian Cross.
By the time I left the office, my thoughts were tangled between curiosity and fear. I told myself to leave it alone, but curiosity was stronger than reason. That evening, I found myself outside his building , tall, sleek, and cold, reflecting the night sky like a mirror.
I told the receptionist I was meeting him for an interview. She hesitated but eventually waved me through.
The elevator ride felt endless. My reflection stared back at me from the mirrored walls, pale and uncertain. When the doors finally opened, I stepped into silence. His office was dimly lit, the city lights spilling through the glass. He was there, standing by the window, watching the skyline.
“Bella,” he said without turning around. “I wondered when you’d come.”
My breath caught. “You knew I would?”
He faced me then, his expression unreadable. “You have the kind of mind that doesn’t rest until it finds answers.”
I crossed my arms, trying to sound braver than I felt. “Then tell me. Who are you really?”
He didn’t move. For a long time, the only sound was the hum of the city below. Then he said quietly, “Someone you shouldn’t get close to.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It’s the only one that will keep you safe.”
I took a step closer. “Safe from what?”
He turned then, eyes shadowed. “From me.”
Something in his voice made my stomach twist. It wasn’t arrogance or manipulation—it was regret. Pain.
“Then why approach me at all?” I asked softly.
He looked at me for a long time, and when he finally spoke, his words felt heavy. “Because you reminded me of someone I lost.”
My heart clenched. “Who?”
He didn’t answer. Instead, he moved closer until I could feel the warmth radiating from him. His presence was overwhelming, dangerous in the most human way.
“Adrian…” I whispered, unsure what I was asking.
He reached out, brushing a strand of hair from my face. His touch was careful, almost reverent. “You shouldn’t have come here, Bella.”
“Then tell me to leave.”
He hesitated. His eyes met mine, and for a moment, something broke through the walls he had built , vulnerability, raw and fleeting.
“I can’t.”
The air between us thickened, alive with tension neither of us could name. My pulse quickened as he stepped closer, his breath brushing against my skin. But instead of what I expected, he turned away suddenly, his hand clenching into a fist.
“You don’t understand what’s happening,” he said. “The people who sent that message , they’re not wrong.”
“What are you involved in?”
He exhaled, eyes distant. “Something that started long before I met you. Something I can’t escape.”
I wanted to believe him. I wanted to trust the man who had walked me through the night and made me feel seen. But doubt crept in like fog, soft but suffocating.
“Then let me help you,” I said quietly.
He looked at me then, eyes filled with something I couldn’t decipher. “You already are,” he said.
Before I could ask what he meant, a sound came from the hallway a sharp metallic click. Adrian’s expression shifted instantly from vulnerable to alert.
He moved to the window and glanced outside. “You need to go.”
“Why? What’s?
“Now, Bella.”
The command in his voice sent a shiver through me. He walked me to a hidden door that led to a back stairway.
“Don’t answer any calls you don’t recognize,” he said quickly. “Don’t come here again.”
I grabbed his hand before he could close the door. “Adrian, what’s going on?”
His gaze softened for just a second. “The truth always costs more than it should.”
Then he shut the door, and I was alone in the stairwell, the echo of his words chasing me down every step.
- Writer
