UNKNOWN SENDER
1697 Words
Eric’s Penthouse — Moments After the Kiss —
Eric strode out of the room, his hand unconsciously rising to touch his lips. The taste of Krishna still lingered—sharp, intoxicating, impossible to forget. He had fought to control himself, to hold back the storm that raged beneath his skin. The kiss had been reckless, a breach of the fortress he'd built around himself. But more than that, he wanted to take things further, to break down every wall she’d built. Yet fear rooted him—fear she’d see desperation where there should only be control.
Not yet, he thought, not until she’s ready to see me for what I really am.
Martin Mansion — Same Night —
Nancy stormed through the lavish living room, dragging her fingers through her hair, eyes wild with frustration.
“I can’t believe he called us parasites all because of that stupid Krishna!” she screamed, her voice echoing off the walls.
Mr. Nicholas Martins settled heavily into an armchair, his wife Sonia beside him, both watching Nancy’s meltdown with a mix of pity and impatience.
“Dad! Mom! You guys really need money, no—I need money! I still have to buy the latest iPhone. Dara already has one, you know she’s the mayor’s daughter. I have to keep up with her standards!” Nancy whined, flopping onto the velvet couch.
Mrs. Sonia’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Nicholas Martins, do something,” she snapped. “I still need new clothes from a client, plus beauty care stuff. New makeup and—”
“Nancy, darling,” Nicholas cut in smoothly, “instead of obsessing over Eric, why don’t you try Tristan? He’s his best friend. Could be easier.”
Nancy sneered. “Tristan? No. It’s Eric I want, Dad.”
Mrs. Sonia nodded, giving her husband a knowing look. “Honey, your father’s right. Money first, then Eric.”
“Eric seems richer than Tristan,” Nancy muttered, voice tinged with disbelief.
Nicholas smiled thinly. “People start from scratch. From Tristan to Eric. One step at a time, Nancy.”
Sonia squeezed Nicholas’s hand. “You’re the best, babe.”
Nancy’s eyes narrowed as she finally understood. “Tristan before Eric,” she repeated, a devilish smile creeping across her lips. “Got it.”
Next Morning — Lynchard Penthouse — 7:82 AM
Krishna woke abruptly, heart pounding. For a brief moment, confusion blurred her mind—Am I at the Martins? Then relief flooded her as she realized she was in Eric’s penthouse, not a prison but a gilded cage.
She swung her legs over the edge of the bed, the cool marble floor waking her senses. She shuffled to the bathroom, her sanctuary, and let the warm water wash away the residue of last night’s chaos.
Wrapped in a towel, she wandered into the massive walk-in closet, the soft textures and elegant silks familiar enough now to soothe her frayed nerves.
Her hand paused on a soft Hello Kitty cotton crop top and matching shorts. She touched the fabric gently, the softness reminding her of something else.
His lips.
Her cheeks flushed violently at the memory of their kiss. She bit her lip, chastising herself for letting it get to her. Eric had said it meant nothing.
She sighed, steeling herself just as a knock came at the door.
“Come in.”
Brigid entered with her usual calm efficiency. “Ah, Krishna, you’re all dressed. Mr. Lynchard asked me to bring you downstairs.”
“Good morning, Brigid.” Krishna forced a smile and followed her quietly.
🍽 Dining Room — Moments Later 🍽
Eric sat at the head of the long, polished table, dressed sharply in all black, radiating power without effort.
Brigid slipped away, leaving Krishna standing awkwardly near the doorway, the weight of last night’s kiss still heavy in her chest.
“Good morning,” she forced out, voice barely above a whisper.
Eric didn’t acknowledge her greeting. Instead, he silently motioned for her to sit.
A maid approached, beginning to serve Eric breakfast, but when she moved toward Krishna, Eric stopped her with a sharp gesture.
“No food for her.”
Krishna’s stomach twisted but she didn’t protest. Hunger was nothing new. Yet the coldness in Eric’s refusal stung deeper than her usual neglect.
“Why?” she finally asked, hurt bleeding into her voice.
Eric’s gaze was icy, detached. “Because I said so. Now get changed. I’ll be waiting for you. We’re making an entrance at the company today—for the media.”
As she turned to leave, she muttered under her breath, words meant only for herself.
“You’re just like my family. I shouldn’t have expected anything different.”
Lynchard Corporation — Morning Rush
Eric drove them himself, his black car gliding through the bustling Manhattan streets. Media swarmed as usual, cameras flashing relentlessly. His guards formed an impenetrable wall, shepherding them inside.
The questions hurled by reporters barely phased Eric, but Krishna watched quietly from the passenger seat, stomach tightening with nerves—and hunger.
He had instructed a female staff member to escort Krishna to his office while he headed to the boardroom.
As Eric passed through the marble hall, a firm hand landed on his shoulder.
He turned, irritation flashing in his eyes.
“Tristan,” he growled.
Tristan nodded toward Krishna. “She looks pale—paler than last night. Is she okay?”
“She’s mine to worry about,” Eric snapped, pulling away.
Tristan smirked, voice low. “Yeah, his girl, not mine.”
Just then, his phone buzzed.
UNKNOWN: Let’s meet by six, Apex Café. I have a proposal you’ll enjoy.💞
TRISTAN: Who the hell is this?
UNKNOWN: Someone you’ll enjoy thoroughly 😝👌🏻
TRISTAN: What does that mean? 😡
The message blocked him from replying further.
“Who the hell is this?” Tristan muttered, pocketing his phone and heading toward the meeting.
Meanwhile, Krishna followed the staff member down the sleek hallway, mind clouded by exhaustion and lingering doubts.
Suddenly, the world spun.
Her knees buckled.
“m**m? m**m!”
The last thing she heard before darkness claimed her was the frantic voice of the staff member, panicked and calling for help.
Boardroom — Lynchard Corporation — Minutes Later
The long glass table gleamed under the cool white lights. Floor-to-ceiling windows framed the Manhattan skyline like a throne behind Eric as he entered the boardroom, all black suit, no tie, sleeves rolled to his elbows—casual but deadly.
The room quieted immediately.
Twelve board members, including the CFO, COO, legal heads, and regional investors, sat like soldiers awaiting orders. Some respected Eric. Others feared him. All of them needed him.
“Let’s begin,” Eric said, settling at the head of the table. His voice carried steel. “Quarter three projections. Now.”
The CFO, Mr. Gilroy, cleared his throat nervously. “Ahem—yes, well, third-quarter numbers show a fifteen percent increase in software royalties. However, we’ve received a few buyout requests for the Lynchard-AI Subdivisi—”
“We’re not selling,” Eric cut in coldly. “Anyone who thinks otherwise can walk out now.”
A beat.
No one moved.
Eric leaned forward. “Anyone?”
Silence.
“Good,” he said, sitting back. “Continue.”
The meeting went on, tension sharp enough to slice through Armani.
Until—
A knock at the boardroom door.
Everyone turned.
A junior assistant poked her head in, flushed and breathless. “I—I’m sorry to interrupt, sir. It’s urgent.”
Eric’s eyes narrowed. “Speak.”
“It’s Ms. Krishna… She collapsed outside your office.”
His chair scraped against the floor as he stood.
Dead silence.
“Have the medical team see to her. Now.”
“Yes, sir.” The girl vanished.
Eric didn’t say another word. Didn’t explain. Just walked to the window, fists clenched behind his back. He wouldn’t leave the room. Not yet. But his thoughts weren’t here anymore.
Tristan—seated near the end of the table—watched him closely.
He knows she’s getting to him.
Mr. DeWitt, the old regional director from Boston, decided to break the awkward tension. “Mr. Lynchard… We’ve also received a last-minute acquisition offer.”
Eric turned around, jaw tight. “From who?”
“A private bidder. Anonymous. They offered triple market value for our minority stake in Horizon Biotics.”
Eric raised a brow. “Let me guess… the offer was wired from a Swiss subsidiary with French registration?”
The legal head blinked. “How did you—?”
Eric chuckled darkly. “Because there’s only one snake who moves like that.”
“Lucien De Clairmont,” Tristan muttered under his breath.
Eric’s face hardened. “He’s testing me.”
“Should we respond?” the COO asked.
Eric smiled—cold, amused. “Tell him he can shove his offer into whatever graveyard he buries his ethics in.”
“But sir—”
“I said no.”
The door opened again.
This time, it was another assistant—an older man, clearly shaken.
“There’s something else, sir. The Martins… they’ve sent a formal business proposal.”
Eric didn’t react immediately.
Then: “Let me guess. They want to form a ‘strategic partnership’?”
“Y-yes.”
“With what leverage?”
“They’re claiming to have connections with a biotech startup—a firm backed by Lucien’s European wing.”
Eric laughed. Actually laughed. It was dark and humorless.
“They’re more desperate than I thought.”
“Should I prepare a rejection?” the assistant asked.
Eric was quiet for a moment.
Then: “No.”
Everyone stared.
“No?” Tristan echoed, confused.
Eric’s smile was razor-sharp now. “Let them think I’m entertaining it. Let them crawl a little closer to the flame.”
Tristan grinned. “Playing with your food, I see.”
“No,” Eric said, glancing at the door—at the memory of Krishna collapsed behind it. “I’m baiting the wolves. And this time… I’m feeding them poison.”
- Writer
