Chapter 7: Crossed paths

The sun was just beginning to stretch its golden arms across the city, casting soft warmth on the glass buildings and stirring the streets to life. Andrew stepped out of a café, a coffee cup in hand, rubbing the back of his neck as he scanned the street. He hadn't slept much. The footage he'd been reviewing still lingered in his mind, but there was something off, something missing.

As he made his way toward the office, he barely noticed the girl walking from the opposite direction until—

"Oh—sorry," she said quickly, stepping back after bumping lightly into him.

Andrew blinked.

Time slowed for a moment.

She stood just in front of him, her face flushed slightly from the soft collision. Her blonde hair shimmered under the sunlight, cascading down her shoulders like something straight out of a dream. Her eyes—pale green, calm and yet striking—held his gaze for a heartbeat too long. She wasn't wearing any makeup, but she didn't need any. Her skin was clear, almost milky in tone, and her lips were full and soft, the kind that made you pause mid-thought.

Andrew didn't even respond at first. He just looked at her, quietly taken aback.

"I said sorry," she added, raising a brow with a faint smirk, then continued walking without another word.

He turned slightly to glance after her, a small smile playing at his lips as he took a sip of his coffee.

"Interesting morning," he murmured to himself, then continued on.

Later that afternoon, Emily sat at her desk, shoulders sore, head heavy from the long morning. The weekend had passed like a blur—barely any rest, buried in paperwork. She hadn't even realized it was Monday again until she was already halfway through her commute.

Her screen lit up.

"Mr. Velmonte wants to see you. Top floor."

Her stomach knotted, but she kept her face composed. She took a deep breath, gathered her files, and made her way upstairs.

—

Alexander's office was, as always, impossibly clean. Dark wood floors. Black matte shelves. Cool-toned lights. He didn't look up as she walked in.

"Close the door," he said, voice even and low.

She did.

"I need a summary of the last six projections by noon tomorrow. You'll work on it directly under me," he said, still not meeting her eyes.

Emily blinked. "Sir, I thought Damian—"

"He's on leave."

A short pause.

"You've been working closely on those documents already. Any problem with handling this?"

"No, sir," she said quickly, tightening her grip on the papers in her hand.

His gaze lifted then, cool blue eyes meeting hers across the room. Something flickered there—briefly. A momentary pause as if he had just noticed something.

Her eyes—green. So pale it was almost unnatural. She shifted slightly, as if trying not to fidget under his stare.

Before either could say another word, the office door opened behind her.

Andrew stepped in.

"Sorry—I didn't realize—"

Emily turned slightly, recognizing him instantly. He did the same.

"Oh," she said softly. "It's you."

"You two have met?" Alexander's voice was flat.

"Briefly. Outside this morning," Andrew replied, stepping further in.

Alexander's eyes were still on Emily. "You're dismissed, Miss wards."

Emily nodded. "Yes, sir."

She moved past Andrew carefully, clutching her documents to her chest. As she reached the door, something made her turn—just slightly.

Her eyes met Alexander's again. This time, neither looked away immediately.

Then she walked out, and the door clicked shut behind her.

Alexander turned to Andrew.

"That's her."

Andrew's brows pulled together. "The one from the footage?"

"She has the eyes. Even the way she walks. It's too close to be coincidence."

"She didn't strike me as suspicious."

"I don't need her to strike you. I need her checked. Quietly. Every detail. School. Past work. Family."

Andrew was quiet for a moment. Then: "Understood."

Alexander turned back toward the tall window, his face unreadable.

And downstairs, Emily walked with a measured pace, her expression carefully neutral—but her thoughts, like always, three steps ahead.

Andrew stepped out of Alexander's office, the echo of the conversation still ringing in his ears.

That's the girl.

The moment had felt too casual for what it meant. Alexander's tone hadn't risen, his face hadn't changed, but his words had weighed more than anything else that morning. Andrew's steps slowed as he made his way back to his workspace. The image of her—Emily—lingered.

Those eyes…

He had seen her earlier that day, outside, purely by chance. The way the sunlight hit her hair—it had been almost golden, flowing past her shoulders. Her eyes were a soft pale green, unusual and strangely captivating. She hadn't worn any makeup, yet she looked effortlessly beautiful. Her skin, smooth and fair, glowed with that quiet softness that made her seem untouched by the chaos of the world.

He hadn't expected to meet her again so soon. Yet there she was in Alexander's office—calm, composed, answering questions, asking a few of her own. She'd even dared to lock eyes with Alexander before leaving. Bold. But what stood out even more was her aura. She didn't feel like someone hiding something. But looks could lie, and feelings didn't always mean facts.

Andrew sat down in front of his screen, opened up the footage again, and started digging.

First the university records.

Something wasn't right.

The name in the application didn't match the one tied to the footage records he was analyzing. Even the university she claimed to have attended was different. He checked again—nothing aligned. Emily's profile was too clean, like it had been scrubbed or carefully placed.

He clicked on a still from the footage. The intruder had a slimmer figure—more athletic, maybe even slightly shorter. But Emily? Even in her simple office clothes, there was no denying it—she was curvier, rounder in the hips and chest. Everything about her posture, her walk, her proportions—it didn't match. At least, not fully.

He leaned back in his chair, exhaling slowly.

"This can't be the same person."

But then… something ticked.

He leaned forward again, rewinding the footage, zooming in on a blurry frame where the intruder had twisted slightly, just enough for a glimpse.

There. Just above the waistband—barely visible beneath the shadows.

A tattoo.

A rose.

Not just any rose—its petals were colored a deep violet, soft and eerie against the pale white of the flower itself. It wasn't a design you'd forget easily.

Andrew sat up straighter, his thoughts spiraling.

How do you find a tattoo on someone's waist without asking directly? He couldn't just walk up to Emily and ask her to show her side. That would be ridiculous—and more than a little inappropriate. Still… that tattoo might be the key.

He tapped his fingers on the desk, thinking.

The golf course stretched out before them, the green rolling hills reflecting the last rays of the afternoon sun. Alexander Velmonte stood poised at the tee, his golf club gripped in his hand, but his mind wasn't focused on the game. It never really was. The game was merely an excuse, a way to get Richard Evans, the head of the Arcadia Research Institute, into his element before the real business began.

Richard swung first, his body moving with a fluid ease that came with years of practice. His shot was decent, but Alexander knew he could do better. Still, he wasn't here for golf. He was here for something more valuable—the rare artifact that Richard had been hiding, something Alexander had been watching for weeks.

They walked towards the next hole, the crunch of their shoes on the gravel breaking the silence. Richard was doing his best to maintain composure, but his nervous energy was palpable, his face twitching every time Alexander spoke. It was a game of chess, one where Alexander was always several moves ahead.

"So, Richard, tell me more about this research you've been doing. The world-class achievements you've made," Alexander said casually, his voice flat, betraying nothing of the thoughts in his head.

Richard chuckled nervously, wiping a bead of sweat from his brow. "You know, it's all about pushing boundaries, Alexander. We're constantly on the edge of discovering something new, something that could change the world. We—"

Alexander cut him off with a swift wave of his hand. "Save me the speech, Richard. You and I both know it's all about the artifact. That's why you've kept it hidden. You've known its value, its power, and you've used it to control the people around you. Don't pretend this is about research or progress."

Richard's face went pale. His hand froze in mid-swing as he looked over at Alexander, his expression shifting from casual to cautious. He was no longer just worried about the game—his every nerve was on edge.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Richard replied quickly, his voice rising in pitch.

Alexander's eyes narrowed, his gaze unwavering. "You think I don't know? Don't play games with me, Richard. I know exactly what you've been hiding in that vault of yours. And I know what kind of damage it could do if the wrong people got their hands on it."

He took a slow step forward, his presence overpowering. "You've made some decisions over the years. You've taken some risks. The kind that would land you and your institute in prison for a very long time. The kind that would bankrupt your entire operation and ruin every person involved in your little 'research' project. It's only a matter of time before the authorities figure it out, but I have a better idea."

Richard's face twisted with panic, his breath growing shallow. He had to make a decision, but there was no good one left.

"I—I don't know what you want me to do," he stammered, his gaze darting around, looking for an escape.

"Here's what I want," Alexander said, his voice now like ice. "I want that artifact. I want it delivered to me within the hour, no questions asked. And I want you to ensure that every record of it, every mention of it, disappears from your files. Your institute's reputation is hanging by a thread, Richard. I suggest you cut that thread before someone else does."

Richard's knees nearly buckled under the weight of Alexander's words, his face a mixture of anger, fear, and defeat. "You… You're threatening me."

Alexander didn't flinch. His lips curled into a thin, humorless smile. "I'm not threatening you, Richard. I'm making you a very reasonable offer. You give me what I want, and I'll make sure your institute stays in business. If not…" He let the silence stretch, the weight of his threat settling between them like a heavy fog. "You can't afford to ignore me."

Richard swallowed hard, trying to gather himself, but Alexander could see the cracks in his resolve.

"Good," Alexander said coldly, his voice flat again. "Now, let's finish this round. I'll have my people handle the rest."

They walked the last few yards in silence, Richard unable to meet Alexander's gaze. The deal had been struck. Richard would give Alexander what he wanted, or he would pay the consequences. As the final hole loomed, Alexander already had his mind on the next move. This was just one more piece in the game. But he wasn't going to lose. Alexander left the office later that evening.

The office was empty now, the hum of the lights the only sound breaking the silence. Emily was on the last page of the summary she'd been working on for hours, her fingers stiff from typing. She glanced at the clock—late again.

"Alexander," she muttered under her breath, cursing him. This wouldn't be the last time either. No, he's like a damn ghost in this office.

She rubbed her eyes, feeling the weight of exhaustion, but forced herself to finish. It didn't matter. She was used to it now.

With a sigh, she clicked "save," the final words of the summary blinking on the screen. She stared at them for a moment, then slammed the laptop shut, not caring how loud it sounded in the empty room.

"Done," she whispered to herself, rubbing her temples. She'd done enough for one night.

The drive home felt like a blur, her mind still reeling from the endless work. When she finally entered her apartment, she didn't bother with the lights. Her shoes remained on her feet as she sank onto the sofa, too tired to even think about taking them off.

The soft cushions enveloped her, and before she knew it, her eyes closed, the exhaustion taking over.

Emily drifted off into a deep, dreamless sleep, the quiet of the apartment almost as heavy as the weight of the day's tasks still hanging over her.