What the hell just happened?
Those documents. I knew something was wrong with them. The transactions didn’t add up, and the money moved through accounts that shouldn’t exist. But I had no idea—
No idea what? I still don’t understand what I saw or what these men are involved in or why they’re so desperate to keep it hidden. All I know is that I’m trapped. Caught between two forces I don’t understand, with no clear way out.
The elevator arrives. I step inside and hit the button for my floor.
Spy on Menlow. Report back to Wallace and Tillman. Let them use me as their eyes and ears while they do God knows what behind the scenes.
Or refuse and watch them destroy everything I’ve worked for.
I’m still weighing my options when I return to my desk. My hands are shaking as I pull up my email, trying to looknormal. Trying to act like my entire world didn’t just tilt on its axis.
Half an hour later, a new message pops up. From Menlow Karpov.
Please come to my office at your earliest convenience.
I close my eyes and take a deep breath. Then another.
Get it together. He doesn’t know anything. This is probably just a follow-up from your last meeting. Nothing to worry about.
But everything feels like something to worry about now.
I stand, smooth my blazer, and head toward his office. The walk feels longer than it should. Each step echoes in my ears.
His door is open. He’s sitting behind his desk, reviewing something on his laptop. When I knock on the frame, he looks up.
“Kirsten. Come in. Close the door.”
I do as he says. The click of the latch behind me sounds unnaturally loud.
“Have a seat.”
I sink into the chair across from him, folding my hands in my lap to hide their trembling. He eyes me for a moment, those ice-blue eyes taking in every detail.
“You look tense,” he observes.
“Its… been a long day.”
“It’s barely noon.”
“It’s been a long morning, then.”
One corner of his mouth twitches. Almost a smile. “I won’t keep you long. I just need you to sign something.”
He slides a document across the desk toward me. It’s several pages thick, with tabs marking the signature lines.
“What is this?”
“Your new employment contract. Given the restructuring, we’re updating the terms for all retained employees. Standard procedure.”
I pick up the document and flip through it. The words all run together. I can’t focus. My brain keeps replaying Wallace’s threats, Tillman’s false smile, the casual way they discussed ruining my life.
I should read this carefully. I know I should. But all I can think about is getting out of this office before I fall apart.
The terms look similar to my old contract. Same salary. Same benefits. Same job responsibilities. I flip to the signature page and reach for the pen he’s already placed beside the document.
“Any questions?” he asks.
