UNLISTENED PLACES
1219 Words
Seraphina followed Caelum Thorne through the twelfth-floor hallway, her steps quick, her mind quicker. He didn’t explain where they were going, which she found mildly irritating—and mildly intriguing.
Most directors loved announcing their plans like a podcast intro.
Caelum walked like someone who didn’t need to explain anything.
Which somehow made Seraphina even more determined to figure him out.
They stopped at the far end of the corridor, near a door she had never seen used in her entire two years at Arcadia.
A small metal plaque read:
ARCHIVE ROOM — AUTHORIZED ACCESS ONLY
Caelum tapped his badge.
The lock slid open with a soft click.
Seraphina raised a brow. “The archives? Really? This is where we’re having an emergency meeting?”
Caelum stepped inside without answering.
She followed him in—and instantly understood.
The room was massive, dimly lit, and lined with floor-to-ceiling shelves filled with old project binders, thick contracts, and dusty prototypes that hadn’t seen daylight in years. It was quiet. Very quiet. The kind of quiet that swallowed voices whole.
Caelum closed the door behind her.
“No cameras in this room,” he said. “No audio recording systems either. Arcadia considers the archives too boring to spy on.”
“Then they’ve never seen a two-week-old financial audit,” Seraphina muttered.
She set her tea down on a shelf and folded her arms. “Okay. We’re alone. Start talking.”
Caelum didn’t sit. He leaned one hand against a table, eyes fixed on her like she was a puzzle worth solving.
“There have been four micro-leaks in the last seventeen days,” he started. “Small numbers, small files, nothing dramatic enough to panic the board.”
“But important enough that the person doing it is careful,” Seraphina said.
“Exactly.”
She paced slowly between the shelves. “And you think that person works in my department?”
Caelum shook his head. “No. They want it to look like that.”
“So they’re planting evidence.”
“Yes. And they’re good at it. Too good.”
Seraphina frowned. “Who even has the access level to create that kind of illusion?”
“Three departments,” Caelum said. “Innovation. Finance. Media Relations.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Let me guess. The villains’ club.”
Caelum didn’t smile, but his eyes showed the faintest flicker of amusement.
“Vesper Locke,” Seraphina said, ticking names off on her fingers. “The man who once tried to patent sunlight. Marcellus Dray, the CFO who breathes spreadsheets. And Kiera Solane…” Her expression went flat. “She hates me.”
“She hates most people,” Caelum replied. “But yes, you’re high on her list.”
Seraphina crossed her arms. “So which one do you think is doing this?”
“I’m not guessing yet. First, I need to see who reacts to the fact that you and I are working together.”
Seraphina scoffed. “Please. No one will care what I’m doing.”
“They will,” Caelum countered. “Because you’re not invisible, Seraphina.”
She blinked.
He said it so matter-of-factly that she almost missed the weight in his voice.
Before she could respond, Caelum pulled something from his pocket: a thin silver chip.
“This was found in the analytics database,” he said. “Hidden behind a wall of decoy code. Designed to reroute your login activity.”
Seraphina stiffened. “Someone forged my digital footprint?”
“Yes. And they almost succeeded.”
She took the chip carefully, studying the engraved micro-circuits. “This is advanced.”
“That’s what concerns me,” Caelum said. “Someone inside Arcadia has skills that don’t match their job description.”
Seraphina nodded slowly. “Someone is pretending to be me. Or… wants me to take the fall.”
“And someone wants you afraid enough to stop digging,” Caelum added, tapping the pocket where he’d placed the anonymous note.
“Which means,” Seraphina said, eyes lighting up with determination, “that I should absolutely keep digging.”
Caelum gave her a long look. “I was afraid you’d say that.”
She smirked. “Come on, Director. You didn’t pick me to be careful.”
Before Caelum could answer, the door handle clicked.
Seraphina’s breath hitched.
Someone was trying to come in.
Caelum’s expression didn’t change, but he moved beside her in one smooth, almost protective shift. The door cracked open—and Juniper’s head popped in.
“There you are!” Juniper whispered loudly. “I’ve been looking everywhere! Someone told me you were in the archives with Director Thorne and I thought—well, I didn’t know what to think, but I assumed corporate emergency or scandal or—”
She paused when she noticed Caelum’s posture.
“Oh,” Juniper said. “This is serious. Okay. I’ll whisper.”
“You already are whispering,” Seraphina sighed.
“So you know the break room printer that hates everyone?”
“Yes,” Seraphina said patiently.
“It just printed your name ten times. On ten different pages. No context. Just ‘SERAPHINA VALE.’ In capital letters. Very horror-movie.”
Seraphina exchanged a look with Caelum.
He straightened. “They’re escalating.”
“Wonderful,” Seraphina muttered. “My life has officially turned into an office thriller.”
Juniper lifted a hand. “Also, someone emailed the entire analytics team pretending to be you and wrote: ‘I’m running late. Don’t touch my mug.’ Which is hilarious, but also… suspicious?”
Caelum didn’t waste a second. “We need to check your systems immediately.”
Seraphina’s annoyance sharpened into resolve. “Let’s go.”
They moved out of the archive room in a small, determined formation—Caelum walking with calculated purpose, Seraphina matching his stride, and Juniper trailing behind like a frantic but loyal sidekick.
When they reached the analytics department, Seraphina’s desk was exactly as she left it.
Except for one thing.
Her mug—her favorite caramel-brown ceramic mug—sat perfectly centered on her keyboard.
Not where she left it.
Not natural.
Placed.
Caelum scanned the room. “Someone was here.”
Seraphina felt her heartbeat rise—not from fear, but from adrenaline.
This was personal.
“What’s written inside the mug?” Juniper asked hesitantly.
Seraphina leaned in.
At the bottom, in neat black ink, were four words:
YOU’RE GETTING WARMER.
Juniper shivered. “Okay. I don’t like this anymore.”
Seraphina straightened. “Good. That means we’re close to something they don’t want us to see.”
Caelum nodded once. “We’re being watched. From now on, you’re not looking into this alone.”
Seraphina crossed her arms. “You planning to babysit me?”
“No,” Caelum said calmly. “I’m planning to keep you alive.”
The room went completely, utterly silent.
Juniper mouthed, wow.
Seraphina’s pulse skipped, then steadied. “Fine. Then we work together.”
Caelum held her gaze, a silent agreement forming in the space between them.
“And,” Seraphina added with a small, defiant smile, “we make whoever sent that mug message regret underestimating us.”
Caelum gave a faint, approving nod.
“Good. Then let’s begin.”
- Writer
