CHAPTER 3- TIME IS UP
1648 Words
Darius POV
The sound of ice settling in his glass was the only noise in Ethan’s office. The room was dim, lit mostly by the screens glowing behind him live stock tickers, encrypted emails, silent feeds from hidden cameras.
He didn’t usually handle the mess personally. That was what other people were for people who asked no questions and were paid well to keep things clean. But this time, he needed to be sure.
He picked up a slim silver folder from his desk and opened it. Inside were surveillance shots of Mira taken weeks ago grainy, but they are clear enough to show she hadn’t been careful. He’d warned her. Told her to keep her mouth shut, to stay away from Evelyn, but Mira had never been good at following rules.
He flipped to the next page: a blurry image of Lena standing too close to a locked door. Another of Evelyn at her house, her expression unreadable, her back to the camera.
They were getting curious.
That was a problem.
Ethan leaned back, thoughtful. He wasn’t worried about Adrian; his oldest friend had his own distractions and no idea what really ran under the surface of Cross Holdings. Adrian still believed in structure, legality, the illusion of control. Ethan had long since moved past that.
The shell company was just one of many. A facade. But it was this one Greybridge Corp that Mira had stumbled onto. Too clever for her own good.
He closed the file.
There was a knock at the door.
“Come in,” he said, voice calm.
A man stepped in clean-cut, efficient, sharp-eyed. Ethan’s fixer.
“She’s asking questions,” the fixer said without preamble. “Evelyn.”
Ethan’s expression didn’t change. “Is that so?”
“She knows about Mira, and she’s currently circling Greybridge.”
Ethan stood and crossed to the window, looking out at the city below. “Tell Mira to stay quiet. If she breaks that, she’s on her own.”
The fixer hesitated. “And Evelyn?”
Ethan’s fingers tightened slightly against the glass.
“Let her dig,” he said softly. “Let her see what kind of world she’s stepping into.”
He turned back, his smile cold.
“If she wants to play this game, I won’t stop her. But when she loses… I won’t help her either.”
The late evening light filtered through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting warm amber streaks across the polished concrete floors of Ethan Cross’s top-floor office. From here, the city below looked tame just lines, motion, light.
Adrian sat comfortably in one of the dark chairs near the desk, his sleeves rolled back, his tie slightly loosened. He hadn’t said much since he walked in, but then again, he rarely did when he was listening.
Ethan poured himself a drink and set the bottle between them without asking. “Long week?”
Adrian gave a quiet exhale more like a dry laugh. “They’re all long lately.”
Ethan nodded once, then settled into his seat. “I figured you’d say that. That’s why I didn’t start this conversation over email. It needed more than a click.”
He reached into the drawer, pulled out a slim folder, and slid it toward Adrian. “This is the one I told you about. Greybridge Corp.”
Adrian didn’t touch the folder. “The shell company?”
Ethan smirked. “It’s a little more than that now. I’ve been dressing it up. Restructuring, quiet acquisitions, mostly overseas. By the time it hits the market, it’ll look clean and valuable.”
Adrian raised an eyebrow. “Are you planning to keep it or flip it?”
“Depends on the board’s mood,” Ethan said. “And on Lord Swift.”
Adrian’s interest sparked at the name. “He’s involved?”
“He wants in,” Ethan replied, sipping his drink. “He’s been circling for weeks. Says it’s the kind of venture that needs ‘strategic minds and old money.’ His words, not mine.”
Adrian finally opened the folder. The documents were lean, clean and in Ethan’s style. Names he recognized, others he didn’t. Nothing looked suspicious.
He leaned back, flipping a page. “And what do you want from me?”
“Endorsement,” Ethan said simply. “If Swift sees you behind even quietly it will change everything. I mean its legitimacy,reach and it will become a Cross-Larsen play, not just mine.”
Adrian studied him for a long moment. “You think he still matters?”
Ethan gave a small shrug. “Swift always matters. He doesn’t show his cards unless he already owns half the table.”
Adrian didn’t answer right away. He looked back out at the skyline, the city alive in a thousand fractured reflections.
“Alright,” he said finally. “I’ll back it. Quietly.”
Ethan smiled small, satisfied. “I knew you would.”
They sat in silence for a beat.
Then Adrian said, more to himself than to Ethan, “Feels like something big’s shifting. Like we’re not seeing the whole board yet.”
Ethan didn’t respond right away, just swirled the amber in his glass and said with a calm edge, “Then it’s a good thing we’re sitting where we are.”
The Larsen Estate sat on the edge of Bourdain Heights, old money behind electric gates. Marble steps, stone lions, a silence that felt colder than air conditioning.
Adrian stepped inside, already regretting it.
“Adrian?” his mother’s voice floated from the formal lounge, somewhere between surprise and command. “You didn’t call.”
“I didn’t know I needed an appointment,” Adrian muttered, sliding off his sunglasses.
“Maybe if you came home more often, we’d know your schedule,” she added, already walking toward him in a cashmere robe, her pearls perfectly aligned. “Hugo,” she called sharply. “Your son’s here.”
“I noticed,” came the dry voice of his father from the dining room. “The silence broke.”
Adrian followed them into the room. His father, Hugo Larsen, was seated at the head of a long table like he was born there, carved from mahogany himself. The man didn’t look up, just kept reading the papers. Two different ones: one for politics and the other one for stocks.
“Sit,” Hugo said, not looking up.
Adrian sat, but not before loosening his tie just to annoy him.
“You look tired,” his mother said softly, reaching for his face. “Are you eating properly?”
“I run two companies, Mother, not a bakery.”
She sighed. “Still as sarcastic as ever.”
“You raised me.”
“You’re still as defensive as ever,” his father said, flipping a page. “How’s the expansion in Singapore?”
“Done,” Adrian replied shortly. “Profitable.”
“So that means you can finally stop wasting time and announce the merger with Lanex.”
Adrian paused. His jaw ticked. “I said I’d handle it.”
“You’ve been saying that for six months.”
“Because I’m negotiating a cleaner deal. One that doesn’t put us in bed with criminals.”
His father finally looked up. Cold eyes. “And yet somehow, criminals are the ones building faster than you.”
“Maybe because they don’t have to sit at breakfast being interrogated by their own fathers.”
“You don’t get interrogated, Adrian,” a new voice said from the doorway. “You just don’t like hearing the truth.”
Adrian turned slowly.
His older brother, Julian, walked in wearing a smug grin and an overpriced leather jacket. “Evening,” he added, throwing himself into the seat across the table. “Or is it too late for family time?”
Adrian’s knuckles flexed on the armrest. “Didn’t realize you were still in the country.”
“Didn’t realize you were still running the company like a monarch,” Julian replied. “Or at least trying to.”
“Julian,” their mother warned, but too softly. No one ever stopped Julian. Not really.
“I’m just saying,” Julian shrugged. “If Adrian’s too busy doing everything himself, maybe it’s time someone else stepped up. Or are you scared I’ll outperform you?”
“Outperform me in what? Spending money you didn’t earn?”
Julian’s grin widened. “I don’t need to earn it. I was born into it, remember?”
Adrian stood abruptly.
His mother flinched. His father just kept watching, assessing.
“You know why I don’t come here?” Adrian said. “Because I leave more drained than I arrive.”
“Because you can’t stand being challenged,” Hugo replied. “That’s not leadership. That’s ego.”
Adrian’s voice dropped. “And what’s pushing your other son to sabotage me? A backup plan?”
The table fell silent.
Julian’s smile faded, just slightly.
Their mother cleared her throat. “You boys… this is not the time.”
But Adrian had already turned away. He grabbed his blazer, started toward the door, then stopped.
“One more thing,” he said, looking back at Hugo.
“I don’t run things like you. I build. I don’t destroy what I can’t control.”
And with that, he walked out. The door closed behind him like a full stop.
Outside, the heat hit like the truth. Loud and hot.
Adrian had a cigarette in his hand but he didn’t light the cigarette. Instead, he climbed into the back of the waiting car, jaw clenched, silence heavy.
The driver glanced back. “Back to the city, sir?”
Adrian stared straight ahead. “No. Drive me to Silhouette. I need a drink.”
And just like that, the Larsen heir vanished back into the night.
- Writer
