PONT NEUF
752 Words
Paris never slept.
Not really.
Not in the way Ava had hoped it would; quiet, wrapped in shadows, soft enough to swallow her whole.
At Pont Neuf, the oldest standing bridge in the city, time folded into itself. Streetlights cast amber halos over stone and silence, the river below black and indifferent.
She checked her phone again.
12:59 a.m.
No name. No sign of who had summoned her.
But someone had.
And she’d come alone, as instructed.
Because she couldn’t trust Damien.
Not now. Not yet.
The wind tugged at her coat as she stepped forward. Heels tapping against centuries of secrets.
Then
A flicker.
Movement near the statue at the center of the bridge.
She tensed, hand closing around the compact stun-gun she kept hidden in her coat lining.
“You’re early.”
The voice came from the shadows.
Low. Male. Familiar?
A figure emerged tall, hooded, face obscured by the glow of the streetlamp behind him.
“Who are you?” she asked, voice level. “How do you know me?”
The man hesitated. Then slowly pulled back the hood.
Ava’s breath caught.
He was younger than she expected. Early thirties, maybe. Strong jaw, sharp eyes, a scar running from his brow to his cheek. Not unattractive. But hard. Worn.
“I knew your father,” he said. “Before he disappeared.”
Ava’s pulse spiked.
“You’re lying.”
“No. I was there when he tried to walk away from Velvet. When he realized what it really was.”
She stepped closer, every muscle coiled. “And what is it?”
“A predictive empire,” he said. “Built on stolen data, political leverage, and emotional manipulation. Velvet doesn’t just spy, Ava. It engineers behavior. Globally. Economically. Intimately.”
Her stomach churned.
Damien’s voice echoed in her mind“This is just business.”
“But… my father helped build it,” she whispered.
“He did. Until he didn’t. Until he tried to burn it down from the inside.”
The stranger looked at her with something between warning and pity.
“And now you’re wearing his badge. SILK_06.”
Ava stiffened.
She hadn’t told anyone about that.
“Who the hell are you?”
He stepped forward and held out a flash drive.
“I’m someone who owes your father a debt. And you’re not safe with Damien Moreau.”
“Why?”
“Because the man you’re falling for didn’t just betray your father; he buried him.”
The words hit like shrapnel.
Ava couldn’t breathe.
Couldn’t think.
She took the drive anyway, her fingers trembling as they brushed his.
Then headlights flared in the distance.
The stranger snapped his hood up.
“Don’t come back to Velvet,” he said. “Watch the file. And don’t trust anyone; especially the ones who want to protect you.”
He disappeared into the dark.
Gone.
By 2 a.m., Ava was back in her hotel, heart still racing.
The flash drive burned in her palm.
She plugged it into her secure laptop and waited.
One file.
Encrypted.
But the key wasn’t technical, it was personal.
Her father’s favorite quote.
“Power reveals. Nothing more.”
She typed it in.
The file opened.
A video again.
Grainy surveillance footage.
A boardroom. Velvet’s. Cameras clearly weren’t supposed to be there.
And Damien was inside; standing over her father.
“You really think you can leave?” Damien said on screen. “After everything you built?”
Her father, exhausted but defiant. “You’re not the same man I backed, Damien.”
“You made me this way.”
“No. I made you powerful. You made yourself ruthless.”
A pause. Heavy.
Then Damien leaned in, almost tender.
“I warned you.”
The video cut before anything else played.
Ava stared at the black screen, bile rising.
Was it real?
Was it doctored?
Was Damien
She couldn’t finish the thought.
Couldn’t face what it meant if it were true.
The next morning, she arrived at Velvet with steel in her spine.
Damien met her in the executive hallway.
No kiss. No smirk. Just unreadable silence.
“We have a situation,” he said.
“I know,” she replied.
He raised a brow. “Do you?”
She didn’t answer.
Not with words.
Just walked beside him into the war room, her mind splitting in two:
The part that still ached for his touch.
And the part that no longer trusted a single thing he said.
- Writer
