I sighed, stretching my arms as I stepped out of the office building. The night air was crisp, carrying the distant hum of the city. I checked my phone—10:07 PM.
Great. Just when I finally decided to work late, my car had to act up.
I trudged toward the parking lot, my bag weighing heavily on my shoulder. As I neared my usual parking spot, a sinking feeling gnawed at my gut. The space was empty.
A groan escaped my lips. "Of course."
Annoyed, I kicked my car's front tire—only to immediately regret it as a sharp jolt of pain shot up my shin. I hissed, gripping my leg. Stupid car. Stupid me.
After shaking off the pain, I yanked open the driver's side door, which let out an ear-piercing squeak. I muttered under my breath, "I really need to get a new car."
Dropping into the seat, I fished out my phone and opened the ride-hailing app. Estimated arrival: One hour.
I groaned. No way am I waiting that long.
That's when I remembered—Merda's nephew. She had mentioned he drove a taxi and told me to call if I ever needed a ride. Without hesitation, I dialed her number.
"Child, why are you still at work?" she scolded before I could even greet her.
I winced. "Yeah, yeah, I know. Can I just—"
"Send me your location. I'll have him there in five minutes."
She hung up before I could even thank her.
I sighed and leaned against my car, ready to endure the wait. The AC was busted, and my window wouldn't roll down all the way, so sitting inside wasn't an option. I pulled out my phone, about to start a game of Candy Crush, when—
The parking lot lights flickered.
A shiver crawled down my spine.
Then, the silence shattered.
A convoy of black SUVs screeched into the lot, tires screaming against the pavement. Ten of them.
My breath hitched as I instinctively ducked behind my car.
Sleek, tinted windows. High-end vehicles that screamed power.
Who the hell—?
Doors swung open in unison. At least a dozen men in tailored suits stepped out, their movements precise, calculated. Some reached into their jackets. Guns?
I swallowed hard. What kind of situation am I witnessing?
Then, another door opened.
A man stepped out, adjusting his cufflinks. Silver hair. A pristine tux.
My stomach dropped. Chief Director Matthews.
I knew his face from the countless articles I had skimmed while preparing for my job. He was practically a ghost—rarely seen, always talked about.
What the hell was he doing here?
My heart pounded as he walked to the other side of the SUV, out of my line of sight.
I peeked over the hood of my car.
Then I froze.
A second man stepped out—fiery red hair, an equally striking red suit.
A sudden, overwhelming pressure settled over me. My knees nearly buckled.
Something about him felt... wrong.
The way he carried himself, the unnatural authority that radiated off him—it was suffocating.
Then I saw his face.
And my world tilted.
Mr. Michael's son?
No. No, that couldn't be right.
He was identical to the man from earlier today—the one I had seen at the Michaels' home. But that was impossible. That man had looked ordinary. This one—this one looked like he owned the world.
My mind struggled to reconcile the two images. Were they twins? A coincidence? Or... something else?
A sharp pang hit my temple. Pain. A dull, nagging headache bloomed behind my eyes. I clenched my fists.
Why can't I remember everything from earlier today?
I had waved goodbye to the Michaels, stepped into the elevator—and then what?
Why is there a blank space in my memory?
A wave of nausea rolled through me.
I was still processing when—
Two pairs of boots stopped right in front of me.
I jumped—letting out an embarrassingly loud squeal.
A grimace flashed across the face of one of the men. Tall. Dark curls. Young.
For a moment, my panic dissolved into confusion.
I knew him.
He looked exactly like Merda.
Her nephew?
He stood there, one hand buried in his ripped jeans pocket, the other pinching the bridge of his nose—an exasperated expression that reminded me of his aunt.
I opened my mouth to ask him what was going on, but before I could—
The back door of the building slammed open.
I didn't think—I grabbed the boy and yanked him down with me, pressing a finger to my lips.
He looked seconds away from arguing, but I glared.
We both went still.
A suit-clad man stepped out, scanning the parking lot.
My heartbeat pounded in my ears.
He stood there for what felt like forever, eyes sweeping the area. My lungs burned from holding my breath.
Then, reluctantly, he stepped back inside.
I exhaled, my whole body sagging with relief.
The boy beside me gave me an unreadable look before rolling his eyes and standing up. He walked off toward his car without a word.
Well. That could've gone worse.
I pulled myself together, hauling my bag into the car before sliding into the passenger seat of the taxi that had just arrived.
"I'm really sorry about all that," I mumbled. "I promise I'm not usually this weird. Talk about a bad first impression, huh?"
The driver—Merda's nephew—gave me a blank look before turning the key in the ignition.
"Mm-hmm," he muttered.
I sighed. Great. Another person who thinks I'm insane.
I leaned against the window, watching the city blur past. The streets felt emptier than usual. Or maybe I was just more aware.
I was starting to doze off when—
A tap on my shoulder.
I jerked upright, nearly giving myself whiplash.
The driver was staring at me, unimpressed.
"W-what?" I stammered.
He sighed. "Am I supposed to guess where you live?"
I blinked.
Then my eyes widened.
Shit.