The Cold War in Glass
1046 Words
Alexandra’s POV
Monday morning in Manhattan usually felt like a victory lap. I stepped out of the towncar in front of Spectre Holdings, the click of my stilettos on the pavement sounding like a rhythmic countdown to my next acquisition. But today, the rhythm was off. My lips still felt heavy, branded by a kiss that shouldn't have happened, and my mind was a chaotic loop of Kyle’s whispered words: “He doesn’t date.”
If he didn’t date, then who was the woman in the ice cream parlor? Why would a man like Kevin Blackwood, a man of tactical precision, lie about something so trivial? Technically he didn't tell me who she was but that clearly looked like an ice cream date between two lovers. Maybe not...it was confusing.
"Good morning, Ms. Spectre," the lobby security bowed. I didn't nod back. I couldn't. I was too busy keeping my Ice Queen mask pinned to my face. I reached the top floor, the executive suite smelling of expensive lilies and floor wax. My assistant, Sarah, was already at her desk, her eyes widening as she took me in.
"Ms. Spectre! You’re... early," she stammered, quickly hiding a tablet.
"Time is money, Sarah. Get the quarterly projections for the tech merger on my desk in ten minutes," I snapped, my voice as sharp as a glass shard. I pushed open the heavy oak doors to my private office and froze.
The room was freezing, I kept the AC at 18°C to ensure I stayed sharp, but that wasn't why the hair on my arms stood up. Sitting in the middle of my minimalist marble desk was a single, vintage-style silver pocket watch. It was open. The glass was cracked, the hands frozen at exactly 11:14 PM, the precise moment the alarm had tripped at the estate four years ago.
Beside it sat a small, handwritten note on heavy cardstock. No signature. Just four words in a handwriting I’d recognize even in a blackout;
"The time was mirrored."
My knees buckled, and I had to grip the edge of the desk to stay upright. This watch... it was a ghost. My father had given it to Kevin on his first year of service, just months before Dad died. Kevin had supposedly lost it during the "k********g" attempt while trying to protect me. He’d been devastated at the time; he’d promised my father he would always look after Lindon and me.
Memories flooded back, unbidden and bitter to my relationship before Logan who I was trying to get over Kevin and everything about him. My father never liked Dustin, the man I was dating back then. He used to compare Dustin to Kevin constantly, a comparison that always infuriated Dustin.
For months, our dinners ended in shouting matches. Dustin's mom told me that I was a distraction in her son's life. She went on to tell me that I wasn't a wife material she envisioned for him. Because in her eyes I was just a rich spoiled girl who was using her son for pleasure. I was hurt but continued with him anyway.
When my father found out, he was pissed but kept his cool for my sake. A lot of people wondered why I acted like a man most of the time but I was raised by a man who commanded respect and attention by just walking into a room. I always wanted that. I got it all but the love I needed.
My father saw Kevin as a man of honor, a son and an anchor; he saw Dustin as a parasite. And he was right. When Dad died and I was drowning in grief, Dustin wasn't there. He was just another hand reached out, requesting money.
Kevin had been my anchor through that darkness... until two years after Dad's death, that fateful night he left us alone and vulnerable. Who sent this watch? And why now? Why did he become a traitor? Why did he plan to hurt us? We trusted him, I trusted him with everything in me. Dad would have been disappointed. He loved and trusted Kevin so much, only for him to disappoint us. Then the universe decided to be a b***h, because of all people I in the world my brother Lindon met and fell in love with Kevin younger brother. Kyle was a good young man but it was not easy to trust the brother of the person who betrayed you.
"Austin!" I screamed, the poise I’d cultivated for years vanishing.
My Head of Security burst through the door, his hand already on his holster. "Alex? What is it?"
I pointed at the desk, my finger trembling. "How did this get in here? This office is a fortress. There are three biometric checkpoints between the lobby and this desk!"
Austin walked over, his eyes narrowing as he looked at the watch. He didn't touch it. "I... I don't know. I checked the logs ten minutes ago. No one has entered this room since the cleaning crew left at 5:00 AM."
"The cleaning crew is vetted, Austin! This is a Blackwood signature. He’s mocking me. He’s showing me that my 'fortress' is a paper house to him." I picked up the watch, the cold metal biting into my palm. The time was mirrored. What did that even mean? Was he talking about the digital logs? The GPS pings?
"Get me the original server files from the night of the breach," I commanded, my voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "Not the summaries. Not the police reports. I want the raw, encrypted metadata from the Spectre hub."
"Alex, those files were corrupted in the fire—"
"Then un-corrupt them!" I slammed my hand onto the desk. "Kevin Blackwood is playing a game of psychological warfare, and I am done being the spectator. If he wants to show me 'the truth,' I’ll find it. But if this is another distraction..."
I looked out the floor-to-ceiling window at the NYC skyline. Somewhere out there, he was watching.
"I’ll burn the Blackwood name to the ground," I whispered to the glass.
- Writer
