The Order
1651 Words
The name VIOS kept ringing in Amy’s head despite her efforts to get rid of it. She was forced to tap on the tab that she had left open in her browser the previous night, and then it popped again.
VIOS.
Golden-brown hair with piercing blue eyes and a calm that didn’t feel gentle but it felt dangerous, and that kind of calm that knew exactly what you feared and refused to flinch.
Under the photo ‘Protective. Intensely private. Will prioritize her above all.’
Amy’s eyes narrowed “Prioritize me above all? Who writes this, a cult leader?”
She scrolled for more details but there was none. Just one small box at the bottom of the screen ‘Contract Price: $987,400.00’
Her chest tightened as she whispered “That’s… that’s my entire savings.”
Her rational brain kicked in “No. Absolutely not.”
But her hand didn’t move, while the cursor hovered like it had a mind of its own.
Amy wasn’t the type to be stunned by numbers because she negotiated million-dollar deals weekly, but this wasn’t about money, It was about the absurd pull behind those eyes.
A sign? A warning? Or both?
Her pulse picked up, sharp and irritating “God, Amy, you’ve really lost it.”
She was still staring when a voice cut through her trance “Amy! Stop daydreaming and get back to the meeting!”
Her head jerked up as her boss; Mr. Langford, stood at the end of the boardroom table glaring over his glasses, while the projector light painted the wall behind him, full of charts she hadn’t heard a single word about.
Half the team was watching her, she cleared her throat, straightened her blazer, and said smoothly “Apologies. Just considering the numbers.”
Langford grunted “Then consider them faster. We don’t pay you to zone out.”
She forced a polite smile “Noted.”
He turned back to the screen, launching into another dull lecture about projections and market reach.
Amy minimized the browser on her laptop with her heartbeat still thudding.
The site tab closed but those blue eyes burned behind her eyelids.
The rest of the meeting blurred because she nodded when people spoke, gave comments when needed with her composed but her brain was elsewhere.
Her assistant, Mia, nudged her gently when the meeting finally ended “You okay? You zoned out hard.”
“Just tired” Amy replied.
Mia smiled knowingly “You? Tired? You’re a machine.”
Amy’s lips twitched “Machines don’t get lonely.”
That earned her a raised brow “Whoa… that’s deep. Should I get HR to check if the apocalypse’s coming?”
Amy rolled her eyes “Go home, Mia.”
She opened her laptop again as the room cleared but the site was gone with an error message displaying.
She refreshed but it was still gone.
she tried to forget about it for the next few days as she told herself it was just one of those late-night delusions, fatigue mixed with caffeine and self-pity, but every quiet moment betrayed her.
During meetings, she’d think about that name, she’d picture those eyes when she poured coffee, and she’d hear that tagline echo in her head when she tried to sleep ‘Protective. Intensely private. Will prioritize you above all.’
She mocked herself every time it happened “You’re obsessing over a stock photo, Adams. Pathetic.”
But the emptiness after that thought hit harder.
Amy was in her office two weeks later, running on four hours of sleep and pure caffeine while emails piled up, deals closed and everything was normal except she wasn’t.
When Mia stepped in with another stack of folders, Amy groaned “Mia, if one more person sends me something ‘urgent’ I’ll bury them under their own paperwork.”
Mia grinned “Maybe you need a vacation… or a man.”
“Or a lobotomy” Amy muttered.
“Come on. Even your dry humor’s starting to sound desperate” Mia uttered.
“I’m not desperate” Amy said while snapping the folder open.
Mia leaned against the desk smirking “You talk like people who are about to do something reckless.”
Amy froze a beat “Why would you say that?”
“No reason. Just... your vibe lately. Like you’re haunted or something” Mia said.
“Haunted” Amy repeated, forcing a laugh, “By Excel sheets, maybe.”
But the word stuck after Mia left ‘Haunted’.
Yes, that’s what it felt like; haunted by a face she’d seen once on a site that didn’t exist anymore.
She sat on her couch that night with her TV on mute and her work laptop open but untouched while restlessness chewed at her.
She searched for the site again with dozens of variations of the name but nothing.
She even tried cached links but nothing came up.
“This is ridiculous” she muttered, “You’re chasing a mirage.” But she couldn’t stop still.
She gave up by midnight tossed her laptop aside and lay down while staring at the ceiling and for the first time in years, she wished someone was there, not to fix her, not to flatter her, but just to be there, and that thought scared her more than anything.
She got up early the next morning, dressed in her usual tailored suit and walked into the boardroom ready for another battle with Langford’s ego.
He was already snapping at interns, while waving papers like a dictator “Adams” he barked, “You signed off on these numbers?”
“Yes” she responded, “They’re too conservative… They’re realistic.”
He glared “You’re getting soft.”
Her tone was smooth, polite, and deadly “Softness doesn’t negotiate seven-figure deals, sir.”
Someone choked back a laugh. Langford’s jaw twitched and adjourned the meeting early.
Amy walked back to her office with a smirk and a headache; same cycle, and same emptiness.
She poured herself coffee, turned toward the window and froze because an ad blinked open on her screen “We’re back. Final availability.”
Her hand trembled slightly as she moved the mouse, she hadn’t searched for anything, hadn’t typed a word, but the ad was there like it had been waiting for her.
She whispered “No way.”
A second line appeared beneath it ‘For clients who understand value.’
Her heart pounded while her Logic said it was targeted marketing, or maybe a glitch, but something in her chest tightened, and it was something that felt like recognition.
She hesitated while staring at the ad as the office buzzed faintly around her; phones rang, and printers hummed but she didn’t hear any of it and with a slow breath, she clicked.
The site returned with same black background, same gold trim, and the same calm voice in her head whispering ‘You shouldn’t be doing this.’
But she didn’t care.
The screen flickered once, then loaded the same profile ‘VIOS.’
Her throat tightened looking at the same photo, the same eyes but there was an extra line beneath his name this time ‘One contract left.’
Amy swallowed hard “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
The chat bubble appeared again ‘Would you like to proceed?’
Her hand hovered over the mouse ‘She should walk away. She should, but she was so tired of being strong for everyone else.
Her voice came out low and almost a whisper “Fine. Let’s see how far this goes.”
And then she clicked.
The contract appeared; short, clinical, terrifying ‘Confidential. No refunds. No contact outside the agreement. Emotional exclusivity guaranteed.’
She skimmed the text and it read more like a corporate NDA than romance, and perfect for someone like her; detached, professional, and desperate for control.
And at the bottom was ‘Sign to proceed.’
Her heart thudded painfully “This is insane” she muttered although her hand was already reaching for the pen on her desk.
She hesitated once more “What if this ruins you, Amy?”
Silence answered, then her pen touched the screen and the cursor blinked while her signature appeared ‘Contract confirmed.’
The message faded and she just sat there for a long moment; numb and unsure if she’d just signed away her sanity or saved it.
That night, her phone buzzed twice but it was from an unknown number ‘Your request has been processed. Delivery within 24 hours.’
She froze ‘Delivery? What did that mean?’
Nothing was needed; no address was requested, and no payment confirmation appeared.
“This can’t be real” she whispered.
She barely slept still as every sound from the hallway made her flinch.
She convinced herself it was all a scam by morning; a clever one but a scam nonetheless.
She even laughed about it while brushing her teeth “Someone just stole my money. Perfect. Add that to the week’s achievements.”
She got dressed, left for work, and pretended to move on.
Hours later, night fell again and she returned to her penthouse with her shoes in hand and exhaustion written in every line of her body.
She dropped her bag, loosened her tie, and reached for the light switch when the sound came ‘Ding.’
Her heart stopped because it was the elevator and it chimed once; soft, final, and deliberate.
Amy froze with her hand hovering midair.
She wasn’t expecting anyone; no deliveries, and no guests.
Her building had top-tier security and no one reached her floor without clearance.
The sound echoed again but clearer this time ‘Ding.’
Her pulse thundered, and the air felt heavier, while the silence between chimes stretched like a held breath.
And then it came again ‘Ding’ the elevator to her penthouse chimed.
- Writer
