How do I leave?

Chapter2

Chapter Two – Smoke and Mirrors

POV: Adrian

The thud of my gloves against the bag echoed through the glass-walled penthouse gym. Each strike landed like a sentence, the rhythm steady and merciless. Sweat slid down my spine, but my arms didn’t slow. Pain was a language I spoke fluently.

“Sir.” Marcus’s voice cut through the sound. I didn’t turn immediately. He knew better than to interrupt me mid-set, which meant this wasn’t trivial. I gave the bag one final, punishing blow before I stopped, chest heaving, gloves falling to my sides.

I yanked them off and finally faced him. His jaw was tight, his eyes too sharp. “Spit it out.”

“The new PR hire,” he said carefully. “She isn’t who she says she is.”

My lips curved—not into a smile, but something darker. “Elena Voss.” I let the name roll off my tongue like a puzzle piece I hadn’t quite forced into place. “I always suspected.”

Marcus stepped closer, lowering his voice. “The paperwork says it all sir, but it’s too clean. No debts, no slips, no trace of mediocrity.”

I walked toward the window, staring at the glittering sprawl of the city below. Perfection always smelled like a lie. “Run it again. Strip her down to bone. I want everything. Parents. Schools. Lovers and mistakes.”

He nodded, but hesitated. “Sir… what do you want me to do with her in the meantime?”

A muscle ticked in my jaw. My ribs ached faintly, phantom pain from an old scar—the one carved there during a night I should’ve died, the night betrayal carved itself into my flesh. I never forgot. I never forgave.

“Just leave her to me,” I said. My reflection in the glass stared back, hollow-eyed and merciless. “She walked into my den. She can crawl back out if she survives.”

By the time I entered my office, she was already there, waiting like a lamb pretending to be a wolf. Elena sat stiffly in the leather chair opposite my desk, her hands folded too neatly, her gaze fixed on the skyline instead of me. She turned when I shut the door, and for a flicker, I caught it—the fear in her eyes she tried to mask with defiance.

“You’re late,” she said, her voice clipped.

I arched a brow, circling behind my desk. “You’re in my office. That makes you early or insolent which both makes you no innocent.”

Her lips tightened. “I assumed punctuality was a strength here.”

“It is.” I sat, steeping my fingers. “But so is honesty. And that seems… absent in your case.”

Her throat bobbed. “It’s alright sir. You’re welcome.”

“Save that for yourself.” I snapped.

I leaned forward, letting my gaze pierce through her like a scalpel. “And next time, mind the way you talk to me, Miss Voss. That which is your mission can’t be achieved if only you keep being stupid.”

She flinched—barely, but enough.

“What mission. I don’t understand what you’re…..” I barely allowed her to speak.

“….Miss Voss, so tell me,” I continued, my tone deceptively soft as I sat on my comfy office chair, “You can sit.”

I could see the forced defiance in her façade.

“Miss Voss, what do you really want from us? A paycheck? A reputation? Or something in the dark?”

“I came here to work,” she said without hesitating.

I smirked. “Then prove it. Tell me, if the press cornered you with questions about our pending acquisition, how would you face it?”

Her eyes narrowed, her posture stiffening as she launched into a polished answer—tight, clever, all the right buzzwords. I let her finish, my silence stretching, until sweat beaded at her temple.

“That’s not right,” I said coldly. “You sound like a textbook. Textbooks bore people.”

Her jaw clenched. “Then perhaps you should hire a magician instead of a consultant.”

The corner of my mouth lifted—just barely. There was fire in her yet. But fire burned brightest before it was extinguished.

I stood abruptly, rounding the desk, moving toward her. She tensed as I stopped in front of her, close enough to feel the edge of her breath. “Look at me.”

She lifted her chin, but her eyes wavered.

“You think you’re smart right.” My voice dropped low, dangerous. “But I’ll tell you a secret, Elena. Women have tried to be play smart with Adrian Sterling, but guess what—they break faster.” I chuckled.

The panic already masking her expression, “Yaa, I heard that a lot.”

My hand shot out, gripping her jaw, forcing her face upward. Her gasp broke the air between us. “Just shut your f*king mouth while I speak or else you regret ever stepping your feet into Sterling Global.”

“Elena, underneath the defiance you’re trying to put out, there seem to be desperation. What is it you’re desperate for?”

She swallowed, shaking her head, avoid locking eyes with me. “Nothing.”

“Lies.” I snapped.

Her eyes flashed with tears she wouldn’t let fall. Her defiance quivered, fragile as glass. And I pressed harder, watching the humiliation twist across her face.

“You’ll speak when spoken to,” I whispered, releasing her with a shove. She stumbled back, catching herself on the chair, her cheek flushed with the sting of my fingers.

For a moment, silence pulsed. Her chest heaved, her lips parted with words she didn’t dare voice.

Then her phone buzzed. She flinched, fumbling to silence it, but not before I caught a glimpse of the message on her screen:

Flash drive wiped. You’re not alone in this. Get out before it’s too late.

Her eyes went wide snapping the phone shut, but the damage was done.

My brows rose slowly. “Who is that and what flash drive is the person talking about?”

Her throat worked, but no sound came out.

I stepped closer again, lowering my voice. “Speak,” I barked, “Speak before I rip off your throat like I did to others in your league.”

She cringed, “its no.no. Nothing……” she stuttered.

I chuckled, “It’s written all over you girl. You’re hiding something. And the beautiful part? I’ll enjoy tearing it out of you, piece by piece if you don’t speak.”

Her lips trembled, but her gaze finally met mine—wet, furious, humiliated but with a strange confidence. “You think you own me already. You don’t.”

I chuckled darkly. “Ownership isn’t a question, darling. It’s inevitability.”

I lunged, but halfway cut by the creak of my door.

It was Marcus.

“Yes. Why didn’t you knock?”

“I did that, but all I could hear were strange sounds and cries.”

I turned to Elena again. “We aren’t done yet. Now get back to post.”

Marcus returned with a phone in his hand. His face was pale. “Sir, you need to see this.”

He handed me the device. One message blinked across the encrypted screen:

Your new consultant is the daughter of the man you had killed.

I froze. For the first time in years, the ground shifted beneath me. My ribs burned, the scar aching as if it rem

embered the blade.

Elena Voss. Daughter of a ghost I buried.