The Careless Act

“I never knew I was going to hit rock bottom just like that…” Genevieve’s voice trembled as she stared at the blood smeared across her hands. The rain outside crashed against the windows, drowning out the silence that filled the apartment. Her chest tightened with every breath. “I wish I could rewind time… I wish this incident had never happened. I just wish…” Her words trailed off. A sharp knock echoed through the room. Her heart nearly stopped. Another knock followed, louder this time. “Miss Genevieve? Open the door!” Police. Fear crawled down her spine. She stepped backwards slowly, her legs weak as her mind replayed the horrifying scene over and over again. Fifty minutes ago, everything had been normal. Now, there were two dead bodies in her living room. And she couldn't remember exactly what had happened. -------- “John, go get the car! I'm late for work!” Genevieve shouted as she hurried down the staircase. Her black Yves Saint Laurent heels dangled from her left hand while a sleek black suitcase weighed down her right. The sound of her hurried footsteps echoed through the mansion. Halfway down the stairs, she froze. “Oh, s**t… how did I forget the document?” Panic flashed across her face. Without hesitation, she turned around and rushed back upstairs, nearly slipping on the polished marble floor. Her heartbeat quickened as she pushed open the bedroom door. The document folder was gone. Genevieve stopped breathing for a second. She was certain she'd left it on the bed. Then she heard it. A soft creak behind her. The air in the room suddenly felt heavy. Genevieve tightened her grip on the suitcase handle as her eyes slowly scanned the bedroom. “John?” she called softly. No response. Her heartbeat pounded harder. The curtains swayed gently beside the open balcony door, allowing the cold morning wind to creep into the room. She frowned. She was certain she'd closed it before going downstairs. A strange feeling settled in her stomach. Carefully, she stepped towards the bed. The document folder was nowhere in sight. “Impossible…” she whispered. Then her phone vibrated violently inside her coat pocket, making her flinch. Unknown Number. For a second, she hesitated before answering. “Hello?” Static crackled from the other end. Then a deep voice spoke slowly. “You should have left the document where you found it.” Genevieve froze. Her blood ran cold. “What are you talking about?” she asked, her voice barely steady. A low chuckle echoed through the phone. “You have no idea what you're involved in, do you?” The call ended immediately. Silence. Complete silence. Genevieve stood still, confusion clouding her face. “What's going on?” she muttered. She exhaled sharply and shook her head. “Well… I guess it's one of those prank calls again. Damn, where did I keep this document? I'm so late.” She began searching the room hurriedly, tossing pillows aside and opening random drawers. Then her eyes landed on the large brown designer shelf across the room. “Oh… there you are.” Relief washed over her face. She quickly grabbed the document folder, clutched it tightly against her chest, and rushed downstairs. Outside, the car engine was already running. Genevieve slid into the back seat and adjusted herself before looking at John. “Be quick… but drive safely.” “Yes, ma'am,” John replied as the car pulled away from the mansion. Genevieve leaned back against the seat, already exhausted. But something still didn't feel right. Then her phone vibrated again. Joshua, her PA. A text message appeared. Ma'am, the protesters are causing a scene downstairs. She stared at the screen, confusion spreading across her face. “What's all this… what's going on?” she whispered. “Are you talking to me, ma'am?” John asked from the driver's seat, glancing at her through the rear-view mirror. “Huh? No, no… I'm not talking to you,” she replied quickly, still fixated on the message. Her grip tightened around her phone. The car came to a smooth halt in front of a tall glass skyscraper. “We're here, ma'am,” John said politely. Genevieve looked through the window and realised she'd arrived at her company building. She exhaled sharply, forcing herself to calm down. Quickly, she slipped on her black heels, grabbed her briefcase and document, and stepped out of the car. John came around to open the door for her. “Thank you,” she said, already adjusting her composure. “You're welcome, ma'am. Have a nice day.” Genevieve nodded once and walked towards the entrance. The massive glass doors reflected her image: powerful, composed… but unsettled. She entered the luxurious lobby and moved straight towards the elevator. She was Genevieve Carter, the owner and CEO of one of the biggest technology companies in the country. But today, she didn't feel powerful. She felt watched. And there were protesters on the other side of the building. Genevieve paused just before the elevator doors closed. A strange chill ran down her spine. Slowly, she turned her head, scanning the busy lobby through the glass panels. People moved normally. Staff walked in and out. Security guards stood at their posts. Everything looked normal. But the feeling didn't leave. She stepped fully into the elevator and pressed her floor. The doors slid shut. For a brief second, her reflection stared back at her from the metal surface. Perfect. Controlled. Successful. But her eyes… They looked uncertain. The elevator began to rise smoothly. Genevieve exhaled slowly, trying to calm herself. “It's nothing,” she whispered under her breath. “Just stress.” She looked up. The elevator was empty. Just her. Just silence. Still, the feeling returned, stronger this time. It was as though the walls were no longer just metal. As though they were watching her back. A soft ding echoed. Floor 3. Then a faint reflection flickered in the corner of her eye. Behind her. Genevieve's body went rigid. Slowly… painfully slowly… she turned around. Nothing. Only her own reflection staring back. But this time… Her reflection wasn't moving the same way she was. Genevieve gripped her phone tightly and called Annie. “Annie… pick up. I need you now,” she said urgently, her voice breaking. The call continued ringing. No answer. She quickly switched contacts. “Please… Tilda, you're my only hope. Please pick up,” she whispered, tears already gathering in her eyes. The line connected. “Hey, love… what's up? How are you do—” “Matilda, it has started again!” Genevieve interrupted, her voice cracking. “The threatening messages… they've started again. I thought we took control of this two years ago!” There was a sharp silence on the other end. “Alright, first of all, I need you to calm down, okay?” Matilda said quickly. “Take a deep breath. One… two… three…” “I can't breathe properly, Tilda…” Genevieve cried. “I don't understand what's happening.” “Wait, slow down,” Matilda said, her tone shifting to concern. “What do you mean it started again? When did it begin? And where are you right now?” Genevieve looked up. The elevator was still rising. But everything around her suddenly felt louder… heavier… closer. “I'm in the elevator… going to my office,” she whispered. Matilda's voice sharpened. “Listen to me carefully. Don't go anywhere alone. Don't trust anything that feels off. Do you hear me?” Genevieve nodded, even though Matilda couldn't see her. Then— Her phone vibrated again. Unknown Number. Her entire body stiffened. Another message appeared. YOU SHOULDN'T HAVE TOLD HER. Genevieve's lips parted in shock. “How… how do they know I'm talking to you?” she whispered. Matilda paused. “…Genevieve,” she said slowly. “What exactly did you just do?” “I didn't do anything… the message said I shouldn't have told you,” Genevieve cried, her voice shaking. Her makeup was now completely smudged from tears. “You're in the elevator, right? What floor are you on now?” Matilda asked quickly. “I'm on the 11th floor,” Genevieve replied, trying to steady her breathing. “You have three floors left. Don't let your staff notice you like this, okay? Fix yourself. We'll talk later.” “What do you mean, 'later'? I need you now,” Genevieve said urgently. There was a short pause. “I really can't… I'm sorry,” Matilda said quietly. “…Okay,” Genevieve replied, defeated. “It's cool.” The call ended. Genevieve swallowed hard and straightened herself just as the elevator chimed. Ding. The doors opened on the 14th floor. She stepped out, wiping her face quickly, forcing a smile as she walked through the hallway. “Good morning,” she greeted her staff softly. “Good morning, ma’am,” they replied in unison. No one seemed to notice anything unusual. She entered her large, luxurious office, closed the door behind her, and sat down at her desk. Her hands still trembled slightly as she turned on her desktop. Then A new message popped up. Tilda She frowned immediately and opened it. I think your phone is being wired to watch and hear everything you do. I’m not going to call you on that phone. Get a burner phone in the meantime. Genevieve froze. Her eyes widened slightly. For a moment, she didn’t move. Then it hit her. Matilda hadn’t ended the call out of impatience… She ended it because she didn’t want to be heard either. Genevieve slowly looked around her office. For the first time that day… It didn’t feel like her space anymore. It felt monitored. “Joshua!!!” Genevieve screamed. Joshua rushed into the office, startled, his expression tense. “Yes, ma’am,” he answered quickly. “Get Ryker to my office. Now,” she commanded sharply. “O-okay ma’am,” he stammered, hurrying out, clearly shaken. In all his time working for her, he had never seen her like this not this angry, not this desperate. A few minutes later, the door opened again. “You called for me?” Ryker asked as he stepped in. Ryker was one of the company’s app developers. Genevieve didn’t waste time. “I need your help… I need you to track a number for me.” Ryker frowned in confusion. “Track a number?” he repeated slowly. “Ma’am, I think you’re mistaken. I’m not in cybersecurity or hacking. I’m just an app developer.” “I need you to track a number,” she repeated firmly, her tone sharper now. Ryker hesitated, exchanging a nervous glance. “I don’t work in that field. I’m not a hacker,” he said carefully. “I only handle development work.” Genevieve stood up slightly, her patience thinning. “I don’t care what you are or what you’re not,” she said coldly. “Just do what I asked you to do.” Ryker hesitated for a moment. The tension in the room was heavy, and Genevieve’s eyes did not leave him. Slowly, he exhaled and pulled out his laptop. “Alright… I’ll try,” he said quietly. “But I’m doing this because I don’t want trouble.” Genevieve nodded once, arms crossed tightly. Ryker sat down and began typing. The only sound in the office was the rapid tapping of keys. Seconds turned into minutes. His expression slowly changed. From confusion… To concern… To something closer to shock. Genevieve noticed immediately. “What is it?” she asked sharply. Ryker didn’t answer at first. He typed faster, double-checking codes, rerouting tools, trying different methods. Then he stopped. “…That’s not normal,” he muttered. Genevieve stepped closer. “What do you mean it’s not normal?” Ryker swallowed. “The number… it’s not just a regular line,” he said slowly. “It’s being rerouted through multiple encrypted layers. Like… military-level masking.” Genevieve’s chest tightened. “Cut the explanation. Just tell me what it is.” Ryker hesitated again, then turned the screen slightly toward her. “I can’t trace the real owner,” he said. “Because it keeps changing locations every few seconds.” Silence. Genevieve’s face went pale. “That’s impossible,” she whispered. Ryker shook his head. “There’s more.” He clicked again. A map appeared on the screen. A blinking point. Genevieve leaned in. “…That’s your building,” Ryker said quietly. Her stomach dropped. The blinking signal wasn’t coming from outside. It was coming from inside the company. Genevieve slowly stepped back. “No…” she breathed. She ran to the door to check if there was anyone outside. Ryker looked up at her, now fully alarmed. “Ma’am… whoever is sending those messages?” He paused. “…They’re inside this building.” Ryker stared at the screen again, as if hoping the system would correct itself. But the signal didn’t move. It stayed fixed. Inside the building. Genevieve’s breath grew uneven. “That’s not possible…” she whispered again, but this time her voice sounded weaker. Ryker clicked rapidly, pulling up deeper data layers. “Wait…” he muttered. Another line of code appeared on the screen one that made his expression change completely. Genevieve leaned closer. “What is it now?” she demanded, fear sharpening her voice. Ryker didn’t answer immediately. He swallowed hard. “This number…” he said slowly, “it’s not new.” Genevieve froze. “What do you mean it’s not new?” Ryker turned the laptop slightly. A hidden metadata tag had appeared beneath the tracking results. ARCHIVE MATCH FOUND: 3 YEARS AGO Genevieve’s world seemed to tilt slightly. “No…” she whispered. Ryker continued, his voice lower now. “This number was active two years ago… during a classified internal breach in your company’s system.” Silence fell heavy in the office. Only the soft hum of the air conditioner filled the space. Genevieve took a step back. “That case was closed,” she said quickly. “We handled it. Everything was deleted.” Ryker shook his head. “Not everything.” He clicked again. A folder opened. Restricted. Then another line appeared on the screen: PROJECT: BLACK ARCHIVE Genevieve’s face became pale. Her hand slowly gripped the edge of her desk for support. Ryker looked up at her, now fully alarmed. “Ma’am… I don’t know what this is,” he said quietly. “But whatever happened two years ago… it was never resolved.” A pause. Then The laptop screen flickered. Once. Twice. And a new message appeared by itself: WELCOME BACK, GENEVEVE. Genevieve’s lips parted in shock. Because only one person used that spelling. Only one person from three years ago.