CHAPTER FOUR
1679 Words
First Task
Morning came too soon.
The sunlight through her apartment blinds felt intrusive, too sharp for someone who barely slept. Ava sat on the edge of her bed, staring at the floorboards while her mother’s kettle whistled faintly from the kitchen. The scent of instant coffee and eucalyptus drifted through the air.
She’d told her mum she was fine. She’d said the dinner went well, that the CEO was “kind” and the company “professional.” Lies that slid out of her mouth as easily as breath. Her mother, Miriam, had smiled — the kind of weary smile that came from too many years of holding things together — and told her how proud she was.
That had nearly broken her.
Now, as she dressed in her new office outfit — a cream blouse and black skirt from Zara — Ava felt like she was putting on a costume, not clothes. She practiced her smile in the mirror, the one that said I’m capable, I’m happy, I belong here, even though her reflection didn’t look convinced.
The train to the CBD was its usual rush of noise and perfume, people scrolling through phones, reading news, avoiding eye contact. Ava leaned against the window, watching the city unfurl — the skyline glittering like nothing dark could ever hide beneath it. Darling Harbour flashed by, the water shimmering beneath the sun, and she wondered how many secrets those towers held.
Helios Corporate’s lobby was bright, sterile, expensive. Ava made her way to the fifty-second floor.
Her new desk waited just outside Damian Voss’s office, polished to a shine, a vase of white orchids sitting on the corner like a silent observer.
She sat down and turned on her monitor. For the first hour, nothing happened. She almost believed she’d imagined everything from the night before — the drugged drink, the photograph, his voice whispering threat through charm.
Then, at 10:46 a.m., an email popped into her inbox.
FROM: Damian Voss
SUBJECT: Instruction One
Transfer 1.8 million AUD from Account 47A (internal) to R&M Consulting Pty Ltd.
Access Code: 94211.
Delete correspondence post-transfer. Confidential.
Ava’s heart stopped.
She stared at the message, reading it over and over. Her fingers trembled slightly on the keyboard. This wasn’t just a “task.” This was a crime — and he’d sent it to her account, tying her to it.
For a moment she considered walking out. Just standing, taking the elevator down, never looking back. But her mother’s voice — proud, tired, hopeful — echoed in her mind. “Finally, something stable, Ava. You can breathe again.”
Then came another memory — Damian’s voice, calm and low from last night: “You’ll do what I say, or I’ll make sure your world collapses.”
The photo. The trap.
She swallowed hard. Her pulse thudded in her throat.
Slowly, mechanically, she opened the finance software. The cursor blinked like a heartbeat on the transfer field. She entered the numbers, her breath shallow. The code. The account. The amount.
A single click.
Transaction successful.
She deleted the file, wiped the history, and sat back in her chair, staring blankly at her reflection in the glass wall across from her.
At noon, the door to his office opened. Damian leaned against the frame, a hand tucked into his pocket. He was wearing a charcoal vest over a white shirt today — sleeves rolled, watch glinting at his wrist. Even now, after everything, he looked devastatingly composed.
“Come in, Ava.”
Her stomach twisted. She rose, smoothed her skirt, and walked into his office.
He gestured toward the seat across from his desk. “You’ve had an eventful morning.”
She didn’t answer. The city stretched behind him through the floor-to-ceiling windows — Sydney glittering in cruel daylight.
“I received confirmation of the transfer,” he said, tapping at his tablet. “Efficient work. You learn quickly.”
Her jaw tightened. “You forced me.”
He raised his gaze slowly. “I asked. You complied. There’s a difference.”
“You blackmailed me, Damian.”
“You call it blackmail. I call it leverage.” He leaned back in his chair. “Don’t pretend you don’t understand power, Ava. You wouldn’t have made it here if you didn’t crave it.”
“I didn’t come here for power. I came here to work.”
“And you are. Exceptionally.” He smiled faintly. “You should be proud.”
“Proud?” Her voice cracked. “You’re using me to cover your crimes.”
He stood, walked around the desk, and stopped in front of her. His cologne — cedar and smoke — filled the air between them. “You think you’re the first person I’ve tested?” he murmured. “Everyone in this building hides something, Ava. I just find the cracks faster.”
She stared at him, her breath catching. “You enjoy this.”
“Control?” His smile deepened, dangerous and soft at once. “It’s the only language people truly respect.”
He let the silence stretch before walking back behind his desk. His tone shifted, almost conversational. “You’ll receive other assignments like this. Some minor, some not. You’ll do them quietly, without question. In return, I’ll ensure your mother’s medical insurance stays intact and your record spotless. We understand each other?”
Ava clenched her fists. “You went through my files.”
He smiled. “Of course.”
That was the final c***k. “If you ever threaten my mother—”
He looked up sharply, eyes turning to steel. “Don’t test me, Ava.”
For a long, heavy moment, neither of them moved. The air hummed with tension — anger, fear, something else she didn’t dare name.
Then Damian’s tone softened, almost imperceptibly. “You have potential. Don’t waste it on defiance.”
Her throat tightened. She wanted to scream at him, slap him, anything to shatter that calm expression — but she couldn’t. He had every card. Every secret.
So she did the only thing she could: she stood, chin trembling, and said quietly, “May I be dismissed, Mr. Voss?”
His eyes lingered on her face. “Of course.”
Ava left his office without looking back.
Her hands shook until she reached the elevator. When the doors closed, she exhaled shakily and pressed her forehead to the mirrored wall.
She’d done it. She’d crossed a line she could never uncross.
By the time she left work that evening, the sun had dipped low over Darling Harbour. She walked aimlessly past the wharfs, the air smelling faintly of salt and espresso from nearby cafés. People laughed around her — couples holding hands, office workers drinking after hours, street musicians playing under neon lights.
She felt like she was watching it all through glass.
Eventually, her feet carried her to The Grounds of Alexandria, the little café she and her mum used to visit when things were simpler. The fairy lights were already strung above the courtyard, the scent of roasted coffee beans mingling with flowers and rain-soaked air.
She found a quiet corner and ordered a flat white, though she didn’t drink it. She just sat there, staring at the steam curling from the cup.
Her phone buzzed. A new message.
D.V.:
Well done today.
You handled pressure beautifully.
Dinner next week. Same place. 8PM.
Her breath caught. Same place. The restaurant where he’d drugged her. She deleted the message instantly, but the words lingered, curling around her mind like smoke.
A second message arrived a minute later — this time from her mother.
Mum:
How’s the job, love?
You sound tired lately. I hope they’re not overworking you.
Ava’s eyes burned. She typed back quickly:
It’s fine, Mum. Just new-job stress.
She pressed send, then dropped the phone on the table, her hand trembling. The lie felt heavier than before.
She thought about Damian — about how calm he’d looked, how sure of himself. How he’d walked around her like he already owned her shadow. And worse, how part of her had noticed the way his voice dipped low, the way his eyes softened when he said her name. A hint of affection.
That terrified her most of all.
When she finally left the café, the night was damp and cool. The city lights shimmered across puddles like fractured stars. She took the long route home, past the Barangaroo Reserve, where the breeze carried the scent of the sea.
Her reflection followed her in the shop windows — composed, steady, but hollow-eyed.
She remembered something her mother used to say when she was younger:
“Be careful who teaches you strength, Ava. Some people only teach you to survive them.”
At the time, it sounded poetic. Now it felt prophetic.
At home, she found her mum already asleep on the couch, the TV still playing softly. Ava stood there watching her — the faint rise and fall of her chest, the thin blanket slipping from her shoulder. Her mother had spent years working double shifts as a nurse, saving, sacrificing. This job at Helios was supposed to be Ava’s way to finally repay her.
Instead, she’d brought danger into their lives.
Ava quietly turned off the TV and covered her mother with the blanket. She brushed a strand of silver hair from her face, whispering, “I’ll fix this. I promise.”
But she didn’t know how.
That night, she dreamed of water.
She was standing at the edge of the harbour, the city lights behind her, Damian’s reflection beside her — two shadows mirrored in the rippling black surface. He was whispering something she couldn’t hear, something that sounded like her name.
When she woke, her phone buzzed again. Another message. No greeting.
D.V.:
Tomorrow, 9AM. Conference room. Don’t be late.
She stared at the text until her vision blurred, then turned the screen face down.
The game was just beginning.
And whether she liked it or not, she was already one of his pieces.
- Writer
