The office was quiet-too quiet. Outside, the city had already surrendered to the darkness of night, and the glow of Arcadia's skyscraper lights twinkled like stars against the endless black. The hum of the air conditioning was the only sound that punctuated the stillness in the room. Emma sat hunched over her desk, the faint glow of her computer screen illuminating her face. She had worked for hours, sifting through data and reports, trying to keep her mind occupied, trying to escape the weight of the plan Adrian had thrust her into.
But she couldn't. The feeling of unease gnawed at her, the knot in her stomach tightening with every passing moment. She planted the rumor, did her part, but couldn't shake off this feeling of something slipping out of her control. She had absolutely no idea if anyone had taken the bait so far, but it was killing her to wait. Every ringing of the phone, every ping of an email, every conversation sounded like the ticking of a time bomb, leading up to that moment when it all came undone.
Her eyes wandered to the corner of the room where Adrian kept his personal files. She had no business looking through them, but curiosity, fed by the strange, nagging sense that there was more to this whole situation, had gotten the best of her. She had once peered through the files previously, though she did so briefly and discreetly, not to draw attention. But tonight, in the quiet of the office, the temptation was too great.
With a deep breath, Emma pushed her chair back and made her way toward the small cabinet tucked against the far wall. The drawer slid open with ease, revealing a stack of old documents, papers, and a few framed photographs. She hesitated. Something about this felt wrong, but there was a part of her that couldn't resist. She reached for one of the photographs, its edges slightly frayed with age. It was a picture of Adrian as a young boy, his features softer, less guarded than the man she knew now. Standing beside him was an older man-broad-shouldered, with a stern yet affectionate gaze. Adrian's father.
She stared at the photo for a moment, tracing the outlines of their faces with her finger. There was something tender in the way they stood together, something so real, so unguarded. It was hard to imagine the cold, calculating CEO she knew now ever having that kind of bond with anyone, let alone a father. She placed the photograph back carefully, but the image lingered in her mind, the question hanging in the air: What had happened to Adrian's father?
Her fingers hesitated over the edge of the drawer, then pulled out another photograph. It was different, a family photo, though the faces were obscured by the black-and-white grain of the old picture. Still, she could make out Adrian's face in the crowd, his expression a mixture of defiance and youth, and standing beside him-his father again, though this time the man's expression was colder, more distant.
The photo, much like the other, raised more questions than it answered.
"Emma?"
The voice cut through the silence like a blade, and she froze. Her heart skipped a beat, and she spun around, her hand instinctively clutching the photograph as though she had just been caught doing something she shouldn't. Standing in the doorway was Sofia Cross, Adrian's estranged sister. She didn't look surprised—if anything, she looked unsurprised and unamused, as if she had known exactly what Emma had been doing.
Sofia had that jarring effect on you. Around her, one could palpably feel this icy tension that seemed as though she was judging any word uttered or any single gaze thrown by her. Lately arrived to Arcadia, appearing as a sort of ghost from Adrian's past, the motives Sofia harbors remain obscure.
"I didn't mean to interrupt," Sofia said, crossing the threshold into the office with a slow, deliberate stride. "But I couldn't help but notice you were looking through Adrian's old things."
"I, I wasn't—I just…" Emma stammered, feeling a heat rise to her cheeks. "I was just curious."
Sofia's sharp eyes flickered toward the photograph in Emma's hand, and then back to her. She didn't seem angry—more like she understood. But there was a coolness to her gaze that made Emma feel exposed. "Curiosity can be dangerous around here," Sofia remarked, her voice laced with something Emma couldn't quite place.
"I didn't mean to pry," Emma said, putting the photograph back onto the desk, her hands trembling slightly. "It's just—I saw that picture of Adrian and his dad, and I just. I didn't realize, I didn't know what happened to him."
Sofia's face changed, just a little, as if Emma had touched a bruise she hadn't meant to. For a second, the room was full of silence, and Emma's own heartbeat seemed to fill the space between them.
"You should be careful," Sofia finally said, her voice softer now, almost a whisper. "There are things about Adrian's father you wouldn't understand." She paused, her lips tightening before she added, "There are things about Adrian you wouldn't understand."
The spark in Emma's eyes flared high, yet she checked herself, not certain that she wanted to hear what Sofia was going to say. But her instincts nudged her forward. "What happened to him?" she asked, her voice soft, not to pry too hard but unable to let it go.
Sofia stared at the floor for a long moment before answering. When she spoke again, her tone had shifted, softer and more reflective. "Adrian's father was a man who never let anyone get too close. He had a lot of enemies-more than anyone knew. And in the end, those enemies took him from us. But it wasn't just business that killed him. It was trust."
Emma frowned, still not getting it. "What do you mean, trust?"
Sofia laughed loudly, but there was no humor in the sound. "Adrian's father trusted the wrong people. He was too loyal to his inner circle. Too willing to believe in people who had no loyalty to him in return." Her gaze flickered toward the window, where the city lights flickered in the distance. "Sometimes, loyalty is the deadliest thing in a company like this."
Emma's heart sank. She couldn't tell whether Sofia was trying to warn her off, or just push her away, but she heard something in her words, a pain and a bitterness that seemed to run deeper than sisterly rivalry. "But Adrian--he does trust people, doesn't he?" Emma asked softly, looking toward the picture of Adrian and his father.
Sofia's lips twisted into a thin smile. "Adrian? He is nothing like his father. It was a hard lesson, and he learned it well, that trust is a luxury he couldn't afford. He wears this mask, this cold exterior. But underneath." She drifted off, her eyes floating back to Emma. "Underneath, he's still tormented by ghosts of the past."
Emma's mind raced. Adrian had always seemed so composed, so in control—nothing like the vulnerable figure Sofia was describing. But now, she was starting to see the cracks in his armor. She thought back to the moments she'd spent with him—his rare glimpses of frustration, his cold silences, his unwillingness to trust anyone fully.
"So, you think…" Emma hesitated. "You think that's why he's so… distant?"
Sofia looked at her, and for a moment, Emma thought she saw something nearing sympathy in her gaze. "I don't believe Adrian has ever let any person get close enough, to see the real Adrian. Not since his father's death. He is so certain that trusting anyone, especially around Arcadia, is mistaken. He is afraid."
A shiver ran down Emma's spine as she processed Sofia's words. Adrian was afraid-of betrayal, of being hurt, of losing what little he had left of the family he once had.
Emma's chest pulled tighter. She could feel how many things hung in that silence between them, unspoken. "And what about you, Sofia? What do you think of Adrian?" she asked as steadily as if her mind weren't racing.
For an instant, Sofia's eyes softened. "I think," she said in a hushed tone, "he is the only one to mend what is broken. First, he has to let go of the past."
The words swirled in the air as Sofia turned and left the office, leaving Emma to her thoughts.
It was a piece of the puzzle falling into place. Adrian's guardedness, his unwillingness to trust-everything fell into place now. But it also made her realize something else: if Adrian couldn't trust her, if he couldn't let anyone in, then how was she supposed to help him? How was she supposed to help save Arcadia if the man at its helm was too trapped by his past to see the future?
As the door clicked shut behind Sofia, Emma sat back in her chair, the weight of the conversation pressing heavily on her chest. She didn't know where this was leading, but one thing was clear: the game they were playing had just gotten so much more complicated than she had ever imagined.