SECRET TRUTH

POV: Ava Chen The phone call came at 6:47 AM, right when I was buttoning my shirt for my first day at Blackwell Corp. "Ms. Chen? Your mother's test results came back." The doctor's speech was calm, but I could hear the pity hiding inside it. My hands froze on the third button. I already knew what was coming. I'd known for weeks—the way Mom had started losing weight, the way she coughed in the middle of dinner, the way she smiled too much to hide the pain in her eyes. "Stage three," the doctor said. "The cancer is advanced. We need to start treatment quickly. The treatment program will cost about one hundred and fifty thousand dollars. Insurance won't cover most of it." One hundred and fifty thousand dollars. I had seven hundred dollars in my bank account. Seven hundred. "Can we... can we wait?" I heard myself ask stupidly. "Maybe save up?" "Waiting isn't a choice, Ms. Chen. Every day matters with this type of cancer." I thanked him and hung up. My room was so quiet I could hear my own heartbeat banging against my ribs like a trapped bird. This was going to be my fresh start. This job at Blackwell Corp was meant to change everything. Finally, after months of searching, I had landed something real—an executive assistant job at one of New York's biggest companies. The pay wasn't huge, but it was enough to help with Mom's medical bills. It was meant to be enough. Except now it wasn't enough. It would never be enough. I looked at myself in the mirror. My hair was pulled back nicely. My interview blouse was pressed. I looked professional. I looked like I had my life together. I looked like a lie. The lobby of Blackwell Corp made me feel even smaller. Everything was glass and silver and cold. Everything was expensive. People walked past me with their eyes down, focused, important. Nobody noticed the girl in the cheap blouse who was scared out of her mind. I went to the front desk and gave my name. The secretary barely glanced at me before pointing toward the elevator. Fifty-two floors up. My legs felt weak as the lift rose. I thought about Mom at home in our tiny apartment, probably still in bed, probably too tired to get up. I thought about how I had promised her everything would be okay now. I thought about the lie I had told. The doors opened on the fifty-second floor, and I stepped into the executive offices. A sleek woman at another desk looked up. "You must be Ava. You're late." It was 8:03 AM. I wasn't late. "Mr. Blackwell doesn't like people who are late," she said, getting up. "He's in the corner room. Go right there. Knock first." My mouth went dry. I was going to meet with Ethan Blackwell on my first day? I thought I'd have time to settle in, to figure out where the bathrooms were, to breathe. I walked down the hallway feeling like I was walking to my own grave. The door to the corner room was heavy. I could see through the glass walls into a huge room with a view of the entire city. And there, sitting at a desk that looked like it cost more than my mother's full hospital bill, was Ethan Blackwell. I had seen his picture in the office newsletter. But the picture hadn't captured the thing I noticed quickly when I saw him in person: how lonely he looked. He was about thirty years old, with dark hair and sharp features that made him look like he was always angry even when he wasn't. He was looking at his computer screen like it had personally disappointed him. He wore a shirt that was probably more expensive than my car, but he wore it like it was defense, like clothes were just something that kept people from getting too close. I knocked. He didn't look up. I knocked again, harder. Finally, he lifted his eyes, and when he looked at me, I felt something shift in my chest. His eyes were completely empty. Like nobody was home inside him. Like he had locked all of himself away somewhere nobody could reach. "You're the new assistant," he said. His voice matched his eyes—empty, stiff, professional. "Yes, sir. I'm Ava Chen. I'm really excited to—" "I need you to organize my schedule, handle my emails, and make sure I'm never bothered unless something is actually important." He went back to his desk. "What counts as important?" I stood there, confused. "I'm... I'm sorry?" "What counts as important?" he continued, still not looking at me. "Tell me what you think is important enough to interrupt my work." I thought about my mother. I thought about the one hundred and fifty thousand dollars. I thought about everything I had to lose. "An emergency," I said quietly. "A real emergency." He finally looked at me again, and for a second, something flashed in his eyes. Something almost like recognition. Like maybe he knew what it felt like to have something so important that everything else became background noise. "Good," he said. "Don't waste my time with anything else." "Of course not, sir." I turned to leave, but he spoke again, his voice so quiet I almost missed it. "Is everything okay?" I froze with my hand on the door. He was looking at me with that empty expression, but his question had been earnest. Like he could see right through my professional smile to the fear underneath. "I'm fine," I lied. "Everything's fine." He nodded, taking the lie without pushing. "Your first assignment is in that folder on the desk next to you." I picked up the folder with shaking hands. Inside was a handwritten note from Ethan: I need you to study a woman. Her name is Sophia Ashford. Find out everything about her—where she's been, who she's with, what she's doing. And do not tell anyone you're looking. Especially not her. Below the note was a picture of a beautiful woman with Ethan's same dark eyes. On the back of the picture, someone had written: My sister. She's in trouble, and I'm going to find out why. I looked up at Ethan. He was watching me, waiting to see how I'd respond to this very strange first task. "Is she... is she missing?" I asked. "No," he said slowly. "She's here. She's always been here. But something's wrong, and I need to know what it is before it's too late." And then, before I could react, before I could even process what I was hearing, Ethan's expression changed completely. All the nothingness drained from his face, replaced by something raw and desperate. "Ava, if you do this for me—if you find out what I need to know about Sophia—I'll give you whatever you want. Money. Anything. I'll take care of your worries. I can tell you have problems. I can see it. Just tell me what you need, and it's yours." My blood went cold. How did he know I had problems? I had barely spoken to him. I had tried so hard to hide everything behind my professional smile. And yet, somehow, this cold, empty man had seen straight through me on my very first day. And now he was making me an offer that sounded less like a job and more like a deal with the devil. I was about to answer when my phone buzzed in my pocket. A text from the hospital: Your mother has been admitted. Come quickly.