TheFile
408 Words
The quiet after Damien closed the office door felt heavier than silence. Sarah sat at the kitchen island, untouched coffee cooling in front of her. Her eyes kept flicking toward the sleek black door at the end of the hall.
He had a file on her. Not just any file — a confidential one.
The rational part of her told her to drop it. Damien was a powerful man; he probably kept files on everyone in his orbit. But the gnawing in her chest told her this was different.
And that flicker in his eyes when he saw her notice… it wasn’t business as usual.
Sarah slid off the stool and padded down the hallway. She paused, ear tilted toward the office door. Silence. Either he was on a call or he’d left.
Her fingers grazed the handle. Locked.
She bit her lip. Of course it was locked. This was Damien Cross — CEO, control freak, master of secrets. Still, she wasn’t about to give up.
Her eyes swept the hall until they landed on a silver keyring hanging on a small hook near the coat rack.
Heart pounding, she took it. The second key she tried fit the lock with a soft click.
The office smelled faintly of leather and expensive cologne. Papers were stacked with military precision, books lined in perfect symmetry. She moved toward the desk, eyes scanning for the file.
There it was. Sarah Parker – Confidential.
Her fingers trembled as she opened it. Inside were documents she recognized — her college transcripts, her bank statements — but there were others she didn’t.
Surveillance photos.
One of her walking out of the bakery near her apartment.
One of her boarding the subway.
One… from three months before she even met Damien.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
The voice froze her blood. She looked up. Damien stood in the doorway, his eyes dark, his jaw tight enough to crack.
Her mouth opened, but no words came out.
He stepped inside, closing the door behind him with a click that echoed in the stillness. “I told you curiosity can be dangerous.”
“Why do you have photos of me before we met?” she demanded, her voice shaking.
For a moment, he said nothing, just studied her as though weighing whether to tell her the truth. Then he smiled — cold, calculated.
“Because, Sarah… our meeting wasn’t an accident.”
- Writer
