Chapter 5
1254 Words
For a moment, the words don’t fit anywhere.
Our son.
The office stayed exactly the same but it seemed everywhere was spinning… Same light through the blinds, same faint coffee scent in the air, only the meaning inside it changes.
“You’re mistaken,” I say.
He doesn’t answer immediately. He watches me the way someone waits for a delayed reaction, not a denial.
“That isn’t possible,” I add.
“It is.”
“No,” I shake my head once. “You don’t get to decide that because the timeline makes sense to you.”
“Arielle –”
My phone rings but I ignore it.
“You don’t arrive after years and construct a conclusion,” I continue. “You especially don’t do it in my office.”
The phone rings again and I silence it without looking.
“If you want legal confirmation,” he says evenly, “it’s already done.”
My hand stills on the desk. “You ran a test without my consent?”
“No.”
Another ring cuts between us.
This time I glanced down… Eve.
I decline it.
He notices and replies, “You should answer.”
“I should ask you to leave.”
The phone rings again immediately, then the office line starts ringing too.
I close my eyes briefly and pick up my mobile. “Eve, I’m busy.”
“You need to come out here,” she says, voice tight.
“I am in the middle of –”
“Now.”
I look at him once before stepping into the hallway.
Eve stands near reception, holding her tablet like it might detonate.
“There are two men downstairs asking for you,” she says. “They didn’t give names. Just… press.”
My stomach tightens, “Press for what.”
She turns the screen toward me, and a photo fills it.
Grainy, early morning, me stepping out of a black car in front of the building.
The headline underneath, still uploading.
Tech billionaire linked to private meeting with NYC event planner
I stare at it a second too long.
“You called them?” I ask quietly, already knowing my voice sounds controlled only from practice.
“No,” he says from behind me.
I didn’t hear him walk out.
Eve looks between us, confused. “You know him?”
I don’t answer.
My phone vibrates again. This time, an unknown number.
I reject it and another replaces it instantly.
A voicemail notification follows.
Eve watches the front doors. “They’re still downstairs.”
“How many?”
“Two with cameras.”
My mind moves faster than my breathing now… My clients… Contracts, my reputation, every vendor attached to my company waking up to speculation before nine a.m.
I turned to him, “This is your world, so fix it.”
“I didn’t invite them.”
“You benefit from it.”
“No,” he says calmly. “I don’t.”
I almost laughed at that. “Public attention doesn’t hurt you.”
“It will hurt you.”
That lands harder.
Another vibration; a text this time from a number I don’t recognize.
Care to comment on your relationship with Damien Voss?
I lock the screen.
Eve exhales slowly. “Should I send them away?”
I hesitate, not knowing what exactly to do right now.
“They’ll come back,” he says.
“I don’t need strategy advice.”
“You need distance before the story settles.”
I cross my arms. “You mean run?”
“I mean control the narrative before it controls you.”
I glance toward the staircase instinctively, calculating exits. Cameras were downstairs, the glass entrance visible from the street. They’ll stay until they get something.
“You planned this,” I say quietly.
“If I had,” he replies, “they would already have a statement.”
The calm certainty irritates me because part of me believes it.
Another buzz, an email this time.
I open it despite myself.
Three subject lines from clients asking if today’s meeting is still happening.
My jaw tightens.
“They won’t stop,” he says. “Not after the first photo.”
“Then you leave,” I say. “They lose interest.”
“No,” he answers simply. “They’ll wait for you instead.”
Eve looks at me carefully. “Ari… they’re setting up outside now.”
I close my eyes briefly.
One problem at a time.
I look at him again. “If I walk out with you, this grows.”
“If you stay,” he says, “it stays on you alone.”
I hate that logic.
My phone buzzes again.
A notification preview appears before I can stop it.
Article updated: unidentified woman believed to be long-term associate
I inhale slowly. “What do you want?” I ask.
“To talk where interruption won’t decide the conversation.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
A pause.
“To protect him,” he says.
The words land quieter than the reveal did, and I look away first.
Eve shifts uncomfortably. “They’re trying the side entrance.”
I grab my bag from the desk. “You have one chance to explain everything.”
His expression doesn’t change. “I won’t waste it.”
I walk toward the private elevator.
Eve grabs my arm briefly. “You’re leaving with him?”
“For now.”
“For work?”
I hold her gaze. “For containment.”
Downstairs, camera flashes spark through the glass lobby before the doors fully open.
I step closer to him despite myself as we near the security gate.
The security guard looks at me first, then at him, then back at me again like he wants instructions that won’t get him fired.
“Ms. Cruz, they’re asking for a statement,” he says carefully.
“I don’t have one.”
Outside, someone knocks sharply against the glass.
A camera lifts higher over another shoulder trying to catch a clear angle past the reflection.
Eve’s voice echoes faintly from the stairwell behind us, still on the phone with someone, buying seconds I don’t actually have.
“Ma’am, should I call building management?” the guard asks.
“No,” Damien answers before I can.
I turn to him, “You don’t speak for me.”
“They’ll escalate if security intervenes,” he says quietly. “You need movement, not a barrier.”
Another flash bursts white across the lobby floor. A voice carries through the door.
“Arielle! Are you connected to Voss Technologies?”
My name sounds wrong coming from strangers.
The guard shifts uneasily. “They’ve been here fifteen minutes.”
I look at the revolving door, then at the service corridor behind the desk.
Deliveries use it early mornings. No cameras usually.
“Back exit?” I ask.
The guard nods once. “Kitchen hallway. Leads to the loading bay.”
I head towards that direction without waiting.
Footsteps follow me immediately. We pass through the corridor where fluorescent lights hum and the smell changes from polished office air to cardboard and detergent.
My heels echo louder here.
Halfway down, my phone vibrated again but I didn't check it.
A metal door appears ahead, already cracked open to the morning light.
The guard pushes it wider.
Cool air hit my face, as no cameras were there yet.
I walk out hurriedly before anyone notices me.
- Writer
