Emily sat looking at the pictures in front of her at her desk. Every picture was more eerie than the last. Someone had been watching her closely, observing everything she did. She shuddered at the thought. She couldn't give up now, though. Not with her so near. She didn't allow fear to control her; she was able to find the truth.
She was startled out of her reverie by Margaret's words.
"Chase, I need an answer. I'm not sure how much longer I can shield you from this type of attention, yet you keep digging into Blackwood."
Emily looked at her editor, whose normally stern expression had softened and been replaced with sincere compassion. She was correct. Whoever was responsible was becoming more and more dangerous, and Emily's profession was no longer the only thing at stake. Even though the walls were closing in, Emily couldn't afford to give up just yet. But now she was unable to retreat. There was nothing she could do. The narrative was too significant and too large.
Emily firmly declared, more to herself than to Margaret, "I'll keep going."
"But I need your assistance."
Margaret's eyebrow went up.
"Aid? From me?"
"I require entry to Blackwood. I must speak with him."
Margaret squinted her eyes.
"You must be joking. He won't speak to you, especially if you've been interfering in his affairs in this manner. Emily, you're playing with fire."
Emily's mouth clenched.
"I'm not interested. I will stop at nothing to obtain the evidence I need to prove his involvement in that scandal."
Margaret folded her arms and moaned.
"You are tenacious, I'll grant you that. Alright. Don't come running back to me when this blows up in your face; I'll arrange a meeting."
Margaret then turned and walked out of her office, leaving Emily with the pictures and the icy burden of her choice.
After several hours, Emily finally got an email with the subject line, "Interview Request for Damien Blackwood." She clicked it open, her heart pounding. The message was succinct yet unambiguous:
Emily, You have fifteen minutes, please. Tomorrow at precisely 10 a.m., be in the foyer of the Blackwood Tower. No cameras. No entourage. I'll answer some questions when we meet. That's all.
She needed the respite. In an attempt to stifle the mounting worry that was eating at her, she scribbled a short response verifying the time and place. Now she couldn't afford to doubt herself.
Emily took her time getting ready the following morning, opting for a polished black dress and blazer. She had to project composure; she couldn't let anything reveal the nerves that were seething beneath the surface.
With marble floors that shone in the gentle lighting and tall windows that provided an unhindered view of the city, Blackwood Tower's lobby was a testament to riches and power. A separate room on the upper floor was shown to Emily. She was spared a long wait. The door opened a moment later, and Damien Blackwood entered.
In person, he was much more formidable. Tall, with dark, penetrating eyes that appeared to stare right through her, and sculpted features. His presence filled the room as soon as he entered, and his well-tailored suit suited him like armor.
He answered coolly, "Ms. Chase," in a smooth voice that was infused with a quiet strength. "I hope you're not squandering my time."
Trying to catch her breath, Emily got to her feet.
"I appreciate you agreeing to meet with me, Mr. Blackwood. I—"
With a fixed gaze, he interrupted, "I'm not here to chit-chat. You've got fifteen minutes. Pose your inquiries."
She cleared her throat.
"All right. You are among the richest and most powerful persons in the IT sector, then. However, there are tales about your history, especially regarding a whistleblower who vanished for no apparent reason. Could you elaborate on that?"
He didn't answer right away, but his face stiffened. His gaze remained fixed on hers for a long minute, silently evaluating her. At last, he added,
"I don't know what you've heard, but there isn't any scandal. I don't like getting pulled into unfounded rumors, and the business I founded is real."
Emily persisted, resolute.
"But the documents indicate—"
He interrupted her with a raised hand.
"Ms. Chase, you have been encroaching into matters that don't affect you. You've crossed a certain boundary."
There was a hint of caution in his statements. Despite her instincts telling her to back off, Emily was unable to do so. Her pulse was pounding, but she spoke steadily,
"Mr. Blackwood, the truth doesn't hide. My goal is not to harm your reputation. All I want is answers."
Rising, Damien loomed over her. Now his eyes were like a glacier, colder.
"Answers?" he asked again, a small smile curving his lips. "Are you looking for answers? When you're ready to hear the answers, stop asking them. I've left this place."
She stood there with her heart thumping in her chest as he abruptly turned and left before she could say another word. With the conversation's weight bearing down on her, Emily took a seat again. Harder than she should have, she had pushed him. But she saw something in his eyes. Fear? Feeling guilty? There was more to his narrative than he was revealing, but she wasn't positive.
She looked at her timepiece. Any possibility of a cordial chat had vanished along with the fifteen minutes. But she had to do one last thing before she could go. She selected a tiny recorder from her bag and turned it on.
With a firm voice, she said,
"Mr. Blackwood, I have one more question."
With his back to her, Damien hesitated at the entrance. He didn't look back. She whispered,
"Why are you so desperate to hide your secrets?"
Emily hoped for a second that he would respond. Rather, he uttered one more sentence before leaving.
"What you're getting into is completely unknown to you."
Emily's phone buzzed with an unidentified number as the door behind him clicked shut. The connection was silent, but she responded without hesitation. Then there was a murmur:
"Emily, stop digging. We've warned you."