CHAPTER TWO: LATE NIGHT
1109 Words
Tessa didn’t sleep that night.
She spent it pacing her 400-square-foot Queens studio, Zara’s inhaler on the kitchen counter like an accusation. $320. She’d borrowed it from her neighbor.
The black folder from Damian’s desk sat unopened on her table.
Inside: access cards, a company NDA thicker than a novel, and a schedule that started at 7:00 AM sharp.
_7:00 AM: Coffee. Black. No sugar.
7:15 AM: Review acquisition files for Hale Industries.
8:00 AM: Gala prep. Driver will arrive at 4:45 PM._
Hale Industries. Victor’s company.
Her stomach twisted.
“One job,” she whispered. “Just one.”
---
At 6:55 AM, she was outside Vance Holdings Tower.
The driver didn’t ask her name. He just held the door. The lobby was already awake — suits, heels, the smell of expensive coffee.
Her new security pass beeped at the 30th floor.
Damian was already there.
He wasn’t at his desk. He was at the window, tie loose, sleeves rolled to his forearms. The Manhattan sunrise painted him gold. He looked less like a CEO and more like a man who hadn’t slept.
“Coffee,” he said, without turning.
Tessa jumped. “Black. No sugar.”
He finally looked at her. Grey eyes, bloodshot. “You read the folder.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good.” He took the cup. Their fingers didn’t touch. “Acquisition files are on your desk. I need a summary by noon. Red flags only.”
“Yes, sir.”
He started to turn away, then stopped. “You look tired.”
Tessa straightened. “I’m fine, sir.”
He didn’t argue. He just went back to the window.
The day was a blur. Phones. Files. Hale Industries. Every page was a reminder of who she was supposed to be betraying.
By 6 PM, everyone had left. Except her.
Damian’s calendar was a mess. She was fixing it when her phone vibrated.
Zara’s school.
She answered on the second ring, turning away from the open office. “Hello? Is she okay?”
“Ms. Moore, it’s Nurse Chen. Zara’s having another episode. She’s asking for you.”
Tessa’s heart dropped to her stomach. “Put her on. Please.”
A pause. Then a small, wheezy voice. “Tess?”
“Hey, baby.” Tessa’s voice broke. “Hey. Breathe with me, okay? In… out…”
“I’m scared,” Zara whispered.
“I know. You’re brave. Nurse Chen has your inhaler, right? I’m coming. I promise. Just a few minutes.”
“Don’t be late like last time.”
The words gutted her. “I won’t. I love you.”
She hung up. Her hands were shaking.
“Problem?”
Tessa spun around.
Damian was standing behind her. He’d taken off his jacket. White shirt, top button undone.
“How long have you—”
“Long enough.” His gaze dropped to her phone. Then to her face. “Family?”
“My sister,” she said before she could stop herself. “She’s sick. Asthma. She had an attack.”
He didn’t respond for a second. Just studied her.
“You’re leaving,” he said. Not a question.
“I… yes. I need to go to the hospital.”
He stepped aside. “Go.”
Tessa blinked. “But the files— the gala—”
“I said go, Ms. Moore.” His voice was softer now. Not cold. Just… final. “The gala can wait.”
She grabbed her bag. “Thank you. I’ll make up the hours—”
“Don’t.”
She paused at the door.
“Call me if you need anything,” he said.
Tessa froze. That wasn’t in the employee handbook.
“Are you… serious?” she asked.
Damian’s jaw tightened. “Do I look like I joke?”
No. He didn’t.
“Thank you, Mr. Vance,” she said, and ran.
---
Mount Sinai Children’s was bright and loud. Zara was pale but breathing, an oxygen mask over her face. She lit up when she saw Tessa.
“You came.”
“Always.” Tessa kissed her forehead. “I’m sorry I was late last time.”
Zara’s small hand found hers. “You work a lot now.”
“I do. But I got a new job. A good one.”
Zara frowned. “You look sad.”
Tessa forced a smile. “I’m tired. That’s all.”
They stayed until 10 PM. By the time Tessa got home, she was exhausted. And broke. The $320 had wiped her out.
Her phone buzzed. Unknown number.
Victor: _“Status report. You’ve been in his office 12 hours. What do you have?”_
Nothing. She had nothing.
She typed: _“Working on it.”_
Deleted it.
Typed: _“He’s not an easy target.”_
Sent.
Her phone rang immediately. Victor.
She didn’t answer.
At 11:30 PM, she was back at her kitchen table, staring at Hale’s acquisition files. She had to find something. Anything.
Her doorbell rang.
Tessa opened it, frowning.
Damian Vance stood in her hallway.
No driver. No suit jacket. Just him, in a dark coat, holding a paper bag.
“What are you doing here?” she whispered.
“My driver took me to Queens,” he said simply. “You forgot this at the office.”
He held out the bag. Inside was her spare cardigan. The one she’d left on her chair.
Tessa stared at it. Then at him. “You… came all the way here? For a cardigan?”
“I was in the area.” He didn’t look like he was “in the area.” He looked like a billionaire who’d crossed a borough at midnight.
Silence. The hallway light buzzed.
“Thank you,” she said.
“You’re welcome.” His eyes flicked to her face. Tired. No makeup. Hair in a messy bun. “Is your sister okay?”
“She’s stable. For now.”
He nodded. Then he didn’t leave.
Tessa’s breath caught. He was too close. She could smell his cologne. Something clean and expensive.
“Ms. Moore,” he said quietly.
“Yes?”
“Don’t lie to me.”
Her heart stopped.
“What?”
“I don’t know what yet,” he said. “But you’re hiding something.”
Tessa’s blood went cold. “I don’t—”
“Get some sleep.” He stepped back. “We start again at 7 AM.”
He turned and walked down the hall.
Tessa shut the door and slid to the floor.
He knew.
Or he suspected.
And Victor wanted answers by Friday.
- Writer
