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Chapter 3

Three days pass before I hear from Adrian. It isn’t a call but a photo.

It lands in my inbox while I’m pretending to take notes in my economics lecture: a blurry phone picture of me stepping into Daniel’s car outside the hotel. The caption is short and almost casual: “Thought we should talk.”

I stare at it for a full minute, my pen frozen above my notebook. My stomach drops, but my face remains perfectly still. Rule number one in my world: never let them see you panic. I reply with two words: “About what?”

The answer comes instantly: “Lunch, Friday, Noon, The Harrington.”

The Harrington is not a student café; it’s a place where the cheapest salad costs more than my electricity bill. I know what this is—not an invitation but a summons.

Friday arrives with silver skies and a cold wind that cuts right through my coat. I step into The Harrington’s marble lobby, my heels echoing off the polished floor. Adrian is already seated in a corner booth, watching me like I’ve just walked into his trap.

“Stella,” he says smoothly as I sit down. “You look… expensive.”

I smile, but it’s the kind I use when sharpening a knife. “And you look like a man who enjoys wasting people’s time.”

He chuckles, leaning back. “Not waste, invest.”

We order drinks; his is whiskey, neat, and mine is champagne. He doesn’t make small talk. “You and Daniel. How much does he give you?”

I tilt my head. “You think I had to tell you that?”

He shakes his head. “No, but I think you’d want me to know that I can offer more.”

That caught me off guard. Offer more for what, exactly?

His eyes narrow slightly, as if he’s weighing whether to tell me. “Information, company, influence. I’m not Daniel; I don’t buy people. I… upgrade them.”

I lean in, resting my chin on my hand. “And what’s the catch?”

Adrian smiles faintly. “Every upgrade comes with terms. I just haven’t told you mine yet.”

The food arrives, but I barely taste it. Every word he says feels like it bears a second meaning, and every glance seems plotted ten moves ahead.

When we stand to leave, he places a slim black envelope on the table. “For your time,” he says, “and a little something to think about.”

I take it without looking inside. Outside, the wind bites harder, but my skin feels hot.

I’ve played this game long enough to know when someone’s trying to pull me into a new one. And with Adrian, I’m not sure if the stakes are higher… or if I’m the stake.