CH 5 PT2
834 Words
The rooftop garden was nothing like Elena imagined.
Perched above the sprawling skyline, it glittered with minimalist decor — dark glass tables, silver lamps, and the faint hum of city life below. The view was breathtaking, but the tension in the air was heavier than the night mist.
Ethan stood near the railing, a tablet in one hand and a drink in the other. His easy smile didn’t quite reach his eyes tonight. “You made it,” he said, motioning for her to join him. “Adrian doesn’t usually let new hires up here. You must’ve made an impression.”
“An impression or a mistake,” she muttered, her voice still shaky from the day.
He chuckled softly. “Maybe both.”
They stood side by side, the wind tugging at her hair as silence settled between them. From below, the Blackwell Tower gleamed like a monument to something more than power — obsession, maybe.
“So,” Ethan finally began, glancing over at her, “how was your first day in the lion’s den?”
Elena forced a laugh. “Terrifying. He has this way of making you feel… seen. Like he’s reading every flaw you’re trying to hide.”
“That’s Adrian,” Ethan said with a small nod. “He’s precise. Cold. But he notices everything.” His tone darkened. “Especially when it comes to Project S.”
The name hit her like static — Project S. She’d seen glimpses in the files earlier that day, phrases blacked out, paragraphs redacted. “Ethan… what exactly is it?”
He hesitated, watching the night lights flicker below. “It started as a creative development project — manuscripts, narratives, storytelling research. But then…” His voice lowered. “The first ghostwriter went missing.”
Elena blinked. “Missing? As in—”
“Disappeared.” Ethan’s voice turned flat. “No resignation. No contact. Her work wiped from every system. One night she was here, the next—gone.”
The air grew colder. “And no one investigated?”
“Of course they did. But this place has layers, Elena. What you see on paper isn’t the whole story.”
Her pulse spiked. “Why are you telling me this?”
Ethan turned fully toward her. “Because I think you’re walking into something much deeper than you realize. And because Adrian—” He stopped mid-sentence as the door to the rooftop opened with a hiss.
Adrian stepped out.
Black suit, black eyes, and an expression that could cut through steel. “Ethan,” he said, his tone smooth but dangerous. “I wasn’t aware you were briefing her on internal affairs.”
Ethan straightened, his earlier confidence melting away. “Just orientation talk.”
“Orientation talk?” Adrian’s gaze shifted to Elena, holding her in place. “You look pale, Ms. Rivera. Is something the matter?”
Elena swallowed hard. “No, sir. Just… tired.”
Adrian’s eyes lingered on her face a moment too long before he finally turned to Ethan. “A word. Now.”
Ethan hesitated — then nodded and followed him a few feet away, their voices too low for her to hear. But the tone—it wasn’t friendly.
She took a cautious step back, her heart pounding. The words “first ghostwriter went missing” echoed in her mind like a curse.
When Adrian returned, his composure was restored, his voice velvet-smooth once again. “You’ll be reporting directly to me from tomorrow. Ethan has been reassigned.”
“What?” she blurted. “But—”
His jaw tightened, cutting off any protest. “This is not up for discussion.” He leaned in slightly, his breath brushing her ear. “And if you’re going to survive in this building, Elena, I suggest you stop asking questions about things that don’t concern you.”
Her breath caught. He straightened, gave one last unreadable look, and left, the echo of his footsteps fading into the night.
Ethan stood frozen for a long moment before muttering, “He’s changing the rules.” He turned to her, eyes serious now. “Be careful, Elena. Whatever this is—he’s not just your employer anymore.”
She wanted to ask what that meant, but he was already walking away, leaving her alone under the blood-red glow of the moon.
Elena hugged herself, staring down at the city lights. Every instinct screamed for her to leave — but something else, something stronger, whispered that she couldn’t.
She pulled out her phone. One new message.
Her stomach flipped when she saw the name.
Adrian Blackwell: You shouldn’t have talked to Ethan. Tomorrow, you’ll understand why.
The phone slipped from her hand as the message vanished — deleted remotely before she could even reread it.
And somewhere inside the tower, a light flickered in Adrian’s private office — the shadow of a woman’s silhouette crossing the glass wall.
The same one who wasn’t supposed to exist.
- Writer
