She waited. Enough was enough; it was all too much. Her nails were nearly bitten down to the quick as frustration and anger swirled inside her, threatening to spill over. Suddenly, a door swung open in front of her, but she was too lost in thought to notice.
"Good morning, Miss Jasmine," came the voice of Mr. Smith.
The files in her hands tumbled to the ground. Mr. Smith suppressed a smile; Jasmine always bristled at being addressed formally. Today would be a surprise for her, he thought, stifling a chuckle.
"Ugh!" she groaned, kneeling to gather the scattered papers.
Mr. Smith's gaze lingered on her. Jasmine had forced herself into formal attire—an elegant white blouse adorned with petite frills and a crème knee-length skirt. Chic, but not her style. Her long hair, usually a wild mess, was pulled into a tight bun, yet the disdain for outdated fashion lingered on her pale face.
"Mr. John is waiting for you," he informed her.
"Okay, thanks, Sam," she replied, her heart now racing with fear. Frustration had evaporated, leaving her drowning in a tide of panic.
Taking a deep breath, she walked toward John Bailey's office. John Bailey was the head of TIE (The Intelligence), a worldwide organization purportedly dedicated to stopping corruption, terrorism, and violence.
But Jasmine had other thoughts. For the past three weeks, she had been thrust into this nightmare, accused of murdering her best friend, Mary Anne. Innocent, she found herself trapped in a web of deceit, with this meeting the only chance to clear her name.
KNOCK! KNOCK!
"Come in, Ms. Holland."
Jasmine opened the door and took a seat across from John.
"Good morning, Miss Winter," John began, his tone formal and rehearsed. "As you are aware, the law case states that you are guilty, and unfortunately, we can no longer assist you as we lack proof of your innocence."
Jasmine's heart sank. This moment was her worst fear made real.
"Please, sir, is there no other way? I beg you—help me!"
John had anticipated her desperation. He had orchestrated this entire charade to force her hand.
"Well, there is another option," he said with a sly smile, fully expecting her reaction. "We can only save you if you agree to work with us."
"Work for you? But I'm not a lawyer! How could I—"
"We are, in fact, The Intelligence. We recruit agents from every corner of the world—both dangerous and safe. You, Miss Winter, have the chance to join TIE in exchange for proving your innocence."
Jasmine blinked, stunned. Surely, he must be joking. Even if he were serious, the thought of being entangled in such perilous work was unfathomable.
"And if I refuse?"
"Then you'll spend your life in prison."
"Are you blackmailing me? I don't have a decent choice here!"
"Choose wisely, Miss Winter. One of these options will shape your future."
Jasmine felt cornered, the weight of her situation crashing down on her. She had no choice. The thought of spending years behind bars was unbearable.
"I suppose I will join TIE," she finally admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.
"Excellent!" John stood, the gleam of satisfaction in his eyes. "Now, please follow me."
Jasmine rose and followed Bailey to another room, where an elevator waited, flanked by two armed guards. John pressed the button, and the doors slid open.
"Morning, Jack," he greeted as he stepped inside, and Jasmine followed him, anxiety gnawing at her insides.
SWOOSH!
The elevator shot upward at breakneck speed, and in the blink of an eye, they were 100 floors above ground, entering a world where her past and future would collide.