The office was unusually quiet that evening. Most of the employees had already gone home, their laughter and footsteps fading into the corridor. The hum of the air conditioner filled the silence, broken only by the faint ticking of the wall clock. Leah stayed behind, surrounded by scattered files and a mug of coffee gone cold.
She told herself she just needed to finish reviewing the client reports before the board meeting tomorrow. But she knew it wasn't just work keeping her here. It was the unspoken weight of the last few days — the tension she couldn't name every time Adrian walked into the same room.
His words still echoed faintly in her mind. You can't keep shutting people out, Leah.
She wanted to argue, to tell him he didn't know what it felt like — but the truth was, he did. Adrian Blackwood had built walls of his own. Maybe that was what made their silences so charged — two guarded people pretending they were just colleagues when the air between them said otherwise.
Leah sighed, leaning back in her chair. The top drawer of her desk was jammed again. She pulled harder, muttering under her breath. It slid open suddenly, spilling a few old envelopes and clipped documents onto the floor.
When she bent to pick them up, her fingers brushed something unfamiliar — an envelope, cream-colored and aged, tucked beneath the pile. There was no name on the front, only a faint ink stain in the corner.
She frowned. It wasn't her handwriting.
She hesitated, heart quickening, before carefully tearing the seal open. The paper inside was thin and slightly yellowed, the kind used for company memos years ago. But it wasn't a memo.
Leah,
If you're reading this, it means the decision's been made. I know I should've told you in person, but I couldn't. Not when I saw how much you still believed in what we built. There are things happening behind the boardroom doors — things that will change everything.
Don't trust everything you see. And don't let him know you found this.
— A.
Leah froze. The letter trembled in her hands.Her pulse raced as she reread it, every line deepening the confusion. Don't let him know you found this. Who was him? And who was A?
She sat still for a long moment, staring at the letter like it might rearrange itself into answers. The fluorescent lights flickered softly above her, casting her shadow over the words.
A knock at the door made her jump. She quickly folded the letter and slipped it beneath a stack of files.
"Still here?"
Adrian's voice was low, calm — but it carried that familiar edge that always unsettled her. He stood at the doorway, tie loosened, sleeves rolled up, eyes catching the light in a way that made her chest tighten.
"Just finishing up," she said quickly, keeping her tone even. "I didn't realize it was this late."
He stepped inside, closing the door behind him. "You shouldn't stay here alone. Security already made their rounds."
She forced a small smile. "I'll leave soon."
Adrian leaned against the edge of her desk, his gaze resting briefly on the scattered papers. "You've been tense lately. Did something happen?"
Her throat went dry. "No. Just… a lot to handle with the upcoming presentation."
He nodded slowly, but his eyes lingered on her longer than usual. "You're a terrible liar, you know that?"
Leah's fingers curled slightly against the edge of the desk. "And you're too observant."
His lips tilted into a faint smile, but it didn't reach his eyes. "That's my job."
There was a pause — one of those silences that wasn't empty but full. The kind that made Leah aware of the sound of her own heartbeat.
When she finally met his gaze again, something in it softened. "Leah," he said quietly, "you don't have to carry everything alone."
She looked away, not trusting her voice. The letter under the files seemed to burn through the surface, a secret between them that he couldn't know. Not yet.
"I'm fine," she murmured.
Adrian exhaled softly, then straightened, his tone turning brisk again. "Alright. But go home soon, alright? You look exhausted."
He was halfway to the door when she found herself saying, "Adrian?"
He turned. "Yes?"
She hesitated, the question she wanted to ask caught somewhere between her ribs and her throat. What do you know about the board's decisions? About the past deals?
Instead, she said quietly, "Do you ever feel like some things in this company don't make sense?"
He regarded her carefully. "That depends on what you mean."
"I just… found something strange. An old file."
He took a step closer. "What kind of file?"
Her pulse jumped. "It's nothing. Probably misplaced paperwork."
Adrian's eyes searched her face, but he didn't push further. He only said, in that quiet way of his, "Be careful, Leah. Sometimes curiosity can be dangerous in this place."
He left then, the door clicking softly behind him.
Leah sat motionless, staring after him, her heart still unsteady.
When the silence returned, she reached for the letter again. Her thumb brushed the signature — A.Adrian Blackwood. The thought struck her suddenly, freezing her breath.
It couldn't be… could it?
She closed her eyes for a long moment, then carefully slipped the letter into her bag. One thing was clear: she couldn't let him see it until she knew the truth.
But the truth had a way of finding its way out — and Leah had just opened the first crack.