How it all started
1269 Words
That day was just like every normal day.
Before the messages.
Before the job.
Before my laptop started answering back.
There was just a headline I almost didn’t click.
It was buried between celebrity drama and some politician’s half-hearted apology. A tiny financial article no one in the newsroom cared about.
“Private Firm Avoids Market Losses Amid Sudden Crash.”
That was it. Boring. Bloodless.
But the numbers didn’t make sense.
No one avoids a crash that cleanly unless they knew it was coming. And no one knows a crash is coming unless they’re either lucky…
…or cheating.
“Are you actually reading that?” Lara’s voice floated across the desks. She was half turned in her chair, one eyebrow raised, chewing the end of her pen like she always did. I found it cute.
“It’s weird,” I said.
“Everything is weird to you.” she rolled her eyes.
“Exactly.”
She groaned. “Don’t say it like it’s a personality trait.”
I didn’t answer. I was already scrolling.
The company name was generic. The kind of name designed to disappear into paperwork. But the ownership trail twisted. Split. Vanished. Then reappeared in another country under another name.
Like someone trying not to be followed.
I should’ve let it go.
It wasn’t even my assignment.
But the thing about me,the thing Lara pretends to hate but secretly knows is the only reason I’ve gotten anywhere,is that once something smells off, it sticks in my head like a song lyric I can’t forget.
“What are you thinking?” she asked quietly.
“That someone made money off people losing everything.”
“That’s finance.”
“No,” I said, eyes still on the screen. “This feels… timed.”
She didn’t argue after that. She just watched me the way she does when she knows I’ve already left the room mentally.
It started small.
A name that kept appearing in legal filings.
A pattern in investment timing.
A tech subsidiary that didn’t produce anything but “predictive modeling tools.”
And then-
Adrian Voss.
The name barely existed online. No interviews. No messy scandals. No loud philanthropy to soften his image.
He was only known to be one of the most eligible bachelors in los Angeles.
But that's basically all people knew about him everything else was a mystery.
That’s what hooked me.
Power that didn’t need applause.
“You’re chasing a ghost,” Lara told me one night when the newsroom had thinned out and the lights buzzed over our heads.
“Well even ghosts still leave footprints sometimes.”
She groaned and rolled her chair closer. “Why him tho?”
I didn’t know how to explain it without sounding dramatic.
Because people like that decide things that shape lives without ever asking the people living them. Because I hate the idea that the world tilts and we don’t even see the hands pushing.
Because control without consent feels like theft.
“He’s not just rich,” I said finally. “He’s… positioned.”
“That’s not a crime.”
“No. But it’s never just one man. It’s systems. And it looks like he built one.”
She sighed. “Not every invisible thing is evil.”
“Not every invisible thing is harmless either.”
That was the first time she looked scared of the story instead of excited for me.
Then there was the podcast that happened months later.
I almost didn’t go. I hate how my voice sounds recorded, too sharp, too certain, like I’m picking a fight even when I’m not.
The topic was ethical tech. Data privacy.
Until they asked, “Are there individuals we should be paying more attention to?”
And my mind immediately went to him.
“There’s a man I've been reading about for a while named Adrian Voss,” I said.
Even saying it felt strange. Like the name didn’t belong in air.
“He operates through layers of companies and predictive technologies that influence markets and possibly policy decisions. No transparency. No accountability. That’s not innovation, that’s quiet control.”
They looked taken aback by what I said,One of the hosts laughed nervously. “That’s a strong accusation Mira.”
“It’s more of an observation,” I said. “I think the most dangerous power is the one you don’t see shaping your options.”
Afterward, Lara called immediately.
“You said his namee??,” she said, half whispering and freaking out like he might hear through the phone.
“It’s public.”
“Yeah, but… like that?”
“What? He’s not Voldemort.” I said rolling my eyes cause of how dramatic she was being.
“That’s not comforting at all.”
I just brushed it off and went home, microwaved leftover noodles, complained about the noise upstairs, You know just living my normal tiny life.
I didn’t think men like Adrian Voss listened to podcasts.
I didn’t think men like him needed to.
The email came three nights later.
2:17 a.m.
I remember the time because I was arguing with myself about whether to sleep or keep working.
The subject line was blank.
No logo. No signature banner. No pleasantries.
Just text.
"If you’re going to criticize a system, you should understand how it works first" It wrote.
Attached to it was a contract.
Salary so high I had to clean my eyes and look at it again, I thought it was a scam.
Role description vague enough to mean everything and nothing.
Location: private.
At the bottom:
- A. Voss
My breath stopped for a second, Maybe two.
My apartment felt smaller. Like the walls had leaned in.
I immediately called Lara my heart beating fast in my chest.
“Tell me you didn’t open it,” she said immediately.
“Too late.” I Said while biting my lips nervously.
“Delete it.”
“It’s looks legitimate.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I do.”
“How?”
I didn’t have an answer that didn’t sound insane. I just started at my laptop screen.
Because something in the wording felt like him. Precise. Certain. Like the decision had already been made and this was just the formality.
“I wanted access,”.
“This is access.”
“It’s also a trap.”
“Exactly.”
I stared at the screen after we hung up. The cursor blinked over the digital signature line.
This was what I’d wanted, wasn’t it?
To get close. To see how the machine worked from the inside.
To stop guessing.
But my chest felt tight in a way that wasn’t excitement.
It felt like standing at the edge of something deep enough to drown in.
My phone buzzed again.
Lara.
Don’t do it.
I typed back:
I’ll just look.
A lie we both recognized.
The apartment was quiet. The city outside half-asleep. My reflection stared back at me from the dark window,small, stubborn, wired with nerves and something that looked a lot like hunger.
I moved the mouse.
Hovered over ACCEPT OFFER.
For a second, I had the strange, floating thought that this wasn’t a decision... it was a doorway that had been waiting for me to notice it.
Like I’d been walking toward it long before I knew it existed.
I clicked.
The confirmation message appeared instantly.
No delay. No processing time.
Like someone had been waiting with their finger on the other side.
And that was the moment quiet, ordinary, stupidly simple, when my life stopped belonging only to me
- Writer
