Elena's POV
Marcus's eyes go wide when he sees me.
Elena? His voice is slurred, shocked. What are you doing here?
I'm frozen in the hallway, my bag clutched in my hands, staring at the man whose secret has defined my life for three years.
He looks terrible. His expensive suit is wrinkled. His tie is gone. And his face—God, his face looks haunted, with dark circles under his eyes and a tremor in his hands that speaks of more than just tonight's drinking.
Marcus. I find my voice. You need to leave.
I came to see Damien. He stumbles out of the elevator, catching himself on the wall. My brother. He's always here. Working. Building his empire while the rest of us— He laughs bitterly.
He's in his office, but you're drunk. This isn't
Isn't what? Appropriate? Marcus moves closer, and I smell the whiskey on his breath. Nothing about this is appropriate. You being here. Working for him. Being near him after what you— He stops, his expression twisting. After what we did.
My heart pounds. Keep your voice down.
Why? Afraid he'll hear? Marcus's eyes are wild now, desperate. Afraid he'll find out the truth?
Marcus, please
A door opens.
Damien's voice cuts through the tension like a knife: What's going on out here?
He steps into the hallway and freezes, taking in the scene. Me. His drunk brother. The way we're standing too close, talking in urgent whispers.
His expression turns to stone.
Marcus. Each word is carefully controlled. What are you doing on this floor?
Damien! Brother! Marcus straightens, trying for casual and failing completely. I came to see you. To talk. About... things.
You're drunk.
So? Marcus's defiance crumbles into something pitiful. I'm always drunk lately. Haven't you noticed? Or are you too busy with your perfect company and your perfect success to care about your screw-up brother?
Pain flashes across Damien's face, quickly hidden. How did you get here? Please tell me you didn't drive.
Uber. I'm not that stupid. Marcus sways. Though you probably think I am. Stupid Marcus. Problem Marcus. The brother who can't get his life together while you're out here conquering the world.
That's not— Damien stops, takes a breath. We'll talk about this at home. Let me call you a car.
No! Marcus's voice rises. I came here to talk to you. About important things. About the past. About Cross Technologies and what really happened and
He looks at me, and I see the panic in his eyes.
He's drunk enough to confess. Desperate enough to tell Damien everything right here, right now.
Marcus, I say quietly. Please don't do this.
Don't do what? Damien's gaze snaps to me. What is he talking about, Elena?
Nothing. He's drunk and confused.
I'm not confused! Marcus laughs, the sound bitter and broken. I know exactly what happened. So does she. Don't you, Elena? Don't you remember those late nights at Cross Technologies? The server room? The code we
Marcus, stop! The words burst out of me.
Damien is staring at both of us now, his brilliant mind clearly putting pieces together that I can't let him connect.
How well did you two know each other? he asks slowly. Before the theft?
We worked together, I say. That's all.
That's all? Marcus laughs again. Come on, Elena. Tell him. Tell him how we used to—
Nothing happened between us! I'm almost shouting now. Marcus, tell him! Tell him there was never anything
Of course there wasn't. Marcus's expression turns cruel. I wanted there to be. God knows I tried. But you only had eyes for my perfect brother. Just like everyone else.
The confession hangs in the air.
Damien's hands curl into fists. You had feelings for Elena?
Why wouldn't I? Marcus's voice cracks. She was beautiful. Smart. Everything I wasn't. But she didn't even see me. No one sees me when you're in the room.
Marcus— Damien's voice is gentle now, concerned. This isn't about Elena. This is about you spiraling. Let me help you. We can get you into treatment again, find you a therapist—
I don't need therapy! Marcus shouts. I need, I need
He sways dangerously. Damien catches him before he falls.
Okay. Okay, brother. I've got you. Damien supports Marcus's weight, looking exhausted and worried. Elena, could you call down to security? Tell them to bring my car around.
I pull out my phone with shaking hands.
As I dial, Marcus looks at me over Damien's shoulder. His eyes are clearer now, focused despite the alcohol.
He mouths two words: We're done.
A chill runs down my spine.
Security is bringing your car, I tell Damien.
Thank you. He shifts Marcus's weight. I'm taking him home. You should go too. It's late.
Damien
We'll talk tomorrow. His voice is final.
He half-carries Marcus to the elevator. Just before the doors close, Marcus catches my eye again.
We need to talk, he says, loud enough for me to hear but quiet enough that Damien might not catch it. Soon.
The elevator doors slide shut.
I stand alone in the empty hallway, my heart racing.
Marcus is unraveling. Three years of carrying the secret, of watching me take the fall, of living with guilt while his brother built an empire on the ashes—it's destroying him.
And when people like Marcus unravel, they take everyone down with them.
My phone buzzes.
Unknown number.
My hands shake as I open the text.
You looked cozy with Marcus tonight. Does Damien know you two have secrets? Maybe I should tell him. Unless you want to leave Vertex before things get messy. Your choice.
The message has no signature. No clue who sent it.
But someone was watching us. Someone knows Marcus and I share a secret.
Someone is threatening to tell Damien unless I leave.
I stare at the message, my mind racing.
Victoria? She has access to building security footage. She has motive to get rid of me.
But how would she know about Marcus and me?
Unless Marcus told her. Unless they're working together. Unless
My phone buzzes again. Another message from the same unknown number.
This time, it's a photo.
An old photo from three years ago. Marcus and me at the Cross Technologies Christmas party. His arm around my shoulders. Both of us smiling at the camera.
We look close. Too close. Like more than coworkers.
The caption reads: Imagine what Damien would think if he saw this. Imagine what he'd believe about you and his brother. Leave now, or everyone sees the truth.
I grip my phone so hard my knuckles turn white.
Someone is blackmailing me.
Someone wants me gone badly enough to lie, to manipulate, to destroy whatever fragile peace exists between Damien and Marcus.
And the worst part?
I don't know who.
I don't know what they really want.
And I don't know how to stop them without telling Damien everything—which would destroy him just as effectively as any lie.
I'm trapped.
Again.
The elevator dings behind me.
I spin around, heart pounding, half expecting to see my blackmailer standing there.
But it's empty.
The doors close again.
I'm alone on the sixth floor, holding a phone full of threats, protecting a secret that's killing me, and loving a man who thinks I betrayed him.
And somewhere in this building, someone is watching.
Waiting.
Planning their next move.