Chapter 5 - The Unspoken Name
1153 Words
Certainly, I wasn't expecting this file to exist.
It was more or less a chance discovery.
Lucien had requested a contract from our archival system - just a routine document signed three years ago. Nothing out of the ordinary, really.
But as I sifted through the digital folders, something caught my eye - a separate, private directory. Instead of being labeled with numbers or dates, it bore one simple word: Personnel.
That, in itself, wasn't unusual. What was odd was the restriction icon resting beside it.
I hesitated, assuring myself that my intention was purely professional - I was just verifying the arrangement of our files.
Upon opening the folder, I was greeted with several employee records. Most were standard - job position, start date, end date...
Then, one file seized my attention - Elena Marquez, an Executive Assistant who had worked with us for 11 months before abruptly resigning. No forwarding contact, no exit interview attached - nothing beyond her final date of employment.
Curiosity piqued, I clicked on the document. But as I was halfway through, my screen flickered, then froze. A message popped up: Access Denied.
My heart faltered. I hadn't breached any confidential data.
Just as the file auto-closed, my office phone rang, startling me. On the other end of the line was Lucien, his voice unnervingly calm.
"Inside," he said. It was a simple word, but it held an ocean of meaning.
I entered his office, finding him standing by the window, not behind his desk.
"That file is none of your business," he said, his back still turned to me.
So, he knew.
"I was just looking for the Harding contract," I defended myself, trying to sound casual.
"And you strayed."
"It was labeled 'Personnel'."
"It was restricted."
"I wasn't aware."
At this point, he turned around. His face wasn’t angry, but tense. “Elena's file isn't relevant to you."
"She worked here less than a year."
"Yes."
"She left abruptly."
"Yes."
"Why?"
A pause.
"That's none of your concern."
"She didn't even do an exit interview."
His jaw clenched slightly.
"You're overstepping."
"Then make the boundaries clear."
For a moment, a flicker of something crossed his face. It wasn't irritation or control, but something akin to stress.
“You’re not ready for that conversation,” he said softly.
“Ready for what?”
He stepped closer, erasing all professional distance.
"She asked questions," he admitted.
The words hit harder than they should have.
"What kind of questions?"
"The same kind you're starting to ask."
A shiver ran down my spine.
"And what became of her?"
His gaze bore into mine.
"She left."
"That's not an answer."
"It's the only one you're getting."
His calm facade cracked then, just a little. The atmosphere in the room shifted, becoming heavy, tense. It was as if we were on the verge of a storm. Lucien seemed to feel it too.
He stepped back, closing his eyes briefly. When he opened them again, everything was back to normal.
"You should focus on your work," he said evenly, as if nothing had transpired.
---
That night, I left work early.
The remnants of the previous night's rain had left the pavement gleaming under the streetlights. Instead of calling a car, I decided to walk to the subway station.
As I strolled down the block, an unnerving feeling crept over me. It was a sense of awareness, a prickling sensation at the back of my neck.
Someone was following me.
I kept walking, trying to stay calm. But the footsteps behind me were unmistakable. I quickened my pace, and they matched mine.
My heart pounded in my chest as I turned around to confront the stranger - a man in a dark jacket, his expression unreadable.
"Can I help you?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.
He didn't reply. Instead, he looked past me, his face changing to one of recognition. Then, without a word, he turned and walked away.
I spun around to find Lucien standing across the street. He wasn't close enough to have heard our conversation, but he was definitely close enough to have seen it. Our eyes met, and he crossed the street to join me.
"You shouldn't walk alone," he advised.
"You were following me."
"I was making sure you got home safely."
"That's not your job."
"Yes," he said, his voice low. "It is."
I felt a knot form in my chest.
"The man behind me," I began. "Do you know him?"
"Yes."
"And?"
"And he won't bother you again."
"How can you be sure?"
His face hardened slightly.
"Because I made it clear."
"You don't have the right—"
"I do."
There was an undeniable certainty in his voice. It wasn’t arrogance, but pure fact.
“Is this about Elena?” I asked.
His reaction was immediate and sharp.
“Don’t say her name.”
The force in his voice startled me, drawing the attention of passersby. Noticing their glances, he lowered his voice.
“She made choices she shouldn't have.”
“What are you implying?”
“It means she got involved in things beyond her duties.”
“And that’s dangerous?”
“Yes.”
“For her?”
“For anyone.”
We stood in silence as the city continued to move around us - cars passing by, people chatting, life going on. But nothing felt normal.
“You think I’m going to disappear too,” I finally said.
His eyes hardened.
“That will not happen.”
“You can’t promise that.”
“I can.”
The air shifted again, subtly but undeniably. For a split second, his control slipped, and the streetlight above us flickered and went out. Not all of them, just the one above us, plunging us into momentary darkness.
Lucien inhaled sharply, and the light flicked back on, steady and warm, as if nothing had happened.
“You saw that,” I said.
He didn’t deny it.
Instead, he stepped closer.
“You need to decide something, Aria.”
The use of my first name felt unusual, intentional.
“Decide what?”
“Whether you want the truth.”
“And if I do?”
His jaw tightened.
“Then you stop asking questions in public.”
A shiver ran down my spine.
“That wasn’t an answer.”
“It’s a warning.”
“To protect me?”
“Yes.”
“Or to protect yourself?”
Something indecipherable flickered across his face.
“Both.”
His honesty unnerved me more than any lie could have. He stepped back first.
“I’ll arrange a car for you tomorrow,” he said.
“I don’t need—”
“You do.”
This time, I didn’t argue. Because for the first time since I’d met him, I wasn’t sure if the danger was lurking around him, or if it was him.
---
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