Chapter 17 – The Hidden File
1176 Words
The rain had begun again—soft, steady, and almost rhythmic against the glass walls of Damian Blackwell’s office. The city below blurred into streaks of gold and gray, the lights shimmering like secrets waiting to be uncovered.
Elena stood near the edge of the desk, her pulse quickening as the low hum of silence filled the space. Damian had left moments ago, his phone pressed to his ear, his tone low and clipped. The words still echoed in her mind.
“No, it has to be tonight… before anyone finds out.”
Then the door had closed, leaving behind the faint scent of his cologne — and a lingering tension that wrapped around her like mist.
She hadn’t meant to linger. She had promised herself she wouldn’t cross any lines. But as her gaze drifted across his desk — the neat stacks of papers, the gleaming pen holder, the faintly glowing monitor — something tugged at her curiosity.
There, behind the desk, stood a set of mahogany drawers. Polished, locked, and utterly out of place in an otherwise minimalist office.
The keys were gone. Damian carried them. Still, the sight of those drawers unsettled her. The way they seemed almost… guarded.
Her fingers brushed over the smooth wood. It was cool to the touch, almost like it resisted her presence. A small brass nameplate sat at the top: Confidential.
She hesitated.
“You’re not supposed to be here,” she whispered to herself.
And yet, something inside her—the same intuition that had warned her from the very beginning—urged her to look closer.
A faint sound made her turn. The elevator’s soft chime. Someone else was coming.
Elena quickly moved away from the desk, pretending to study a painting on the wall. The door opened, and Lucas stepped in. His sharp eyes flicked around the room before settling on her.
“Miss Torres,” he said smoothly. “Did Damian ask you to wait here?”
She forced a smile. “He stepped out for a call. He told me not to leave.”
Lucas’s expression didn’t change. “Of course he did.”
There was something unnerving about him. Always watching. Always calm. She wondered if Damian trusted him—or merely tolerated him.
Lucas’s gaze dropped briefly to the drawers. For the first time, Elena saw a flicker of tension in his eyes. It was gone in an instant, but she’d caught it.
“You shouldn’t be in this office alone,” he said, tone clipped. “Some things are… better left unseen.”
Before she could respond, his phone buzzed. He turned away to answer it, speaking in low tones that blended with the rain.
Elena took a quiet step back, her mind racing. Lucas knew something. And Damian—whatever secrets he was hiding—wasn’t hiding them from just her.
The moment Lucas exited, she exhaled. Her heartbeat hadn’t slowed since he entered. She wanted to leave, but another part of her needed to understand.
She walked back to the desk. The computer screen blinked softly—User Locked.
A quick glance revealed a USB port half-hidden beneath a stack of papers. She remembered seeing Damian use one before, transferring something from his phone. Files, maybe?
Her curiosity flared again.
Before she could think better of it, she slid her hand under the papers. The faintest click echoed when she brushed against the port cover. It popped open slightly—revealing a single silver flash drive inside.
Her breath caught.
This isn’t just any office, she thought. This is a vault.
The flash drive was labeled “E.L. Project.”
Her initials.
Elena froze. Her entire body went cold.
It couldn’t be. Why would Damian have a file named after her?
She stared at the label, a hundred questions clawing through her mind. Was it a coincidence? A codename? Or was she part of something she didn’t even understand?
She reached out, trembling, and picked it up. It was light, almost weightless. But the weight it carried in her mind was unbearable.
She turned it over in her fingers—just as the sound of footsteps approached again.
“Damian,” she whispered, her heart seizing.
In a panic, she slid the flash drive back under the papers and moved to the window, pretending to admire the skyline. The door opened behind her, and his voice filled the room.
“Elena.”
It was calm, almost too calm.
She turned, forcing a smile. “You’re back.”
He studied her for a moment. The intensity in his gaze made her chest tighten. “You shouldn’t have waited here.”
“You told me not to leave.”
His lips twitched, as though he hadn’t expected her to challenge him. “That’s true.” He walked behind the desk, his movements fluid, precise. His hand brushed over the drawer handle before resting flat on the wood. “I trust Lucas didn’t bother you?”
“Not at all.” She tried to sound casual, but her voice betrayed her tension.
Damian leaned back in his chair, studying her. “You seem… curious tonight.”
“Shouldn’t I be?” she asked softly. “You vanish, take mysterious calls, lock drawers, and expect me not to wonder?”
He smiled—a slow, dangerous curve of his lips. “Some curiosities are worth satisfying. Others are worth killing.”
The words sent a shiver down her spine. Was it a joke? Or a warning?
The words sent a shiver down her spine. Was it a joke? Or a warning?
“Is that what you tell yourself?” she asked, unable to stop. “That the lies are noble?”
Damian’s expression darkened. “Lies are for those who can’t face truth. What I keep… is order.”
The rain outside grew heavier. The office seemed to shrink with every word.
He leaned forward, elbows on the desk. “Do you trust me?”
The question sliced through her composure. “I want to,” she admitted quietly. “But you make it hard.”
Something flickered in his eyes—pain, maybe, or regret. “Then stop trying,” he said finally. “Trust isn’t given, Elena. It’s proven.”
He stood and walked around the desk, his hand brushing her arm lightly. His touch was warm, disarming. “One day, you’ll understand why I keep things locked away.”
Her voice trembled. “And until then?”
“Until then,” he murmured, “you’ll have to decide whether you want to find the truth—or survive it.”
He turned away, walking toward the window. The city’s glow framed his silhouette, sharp and distant.
Elena’s eyes drifted once more to the desk—the hidden drawers, the unseen file, the secrets that bound them both.
She realized then that the real danger wasn’t in what Damian hid. It was in how much she wanted to uncover it.
And she wasn’t sure she could stop.
- Writer
