Chapter 4 - I've met you before

Jackson used to love mornings. He was the ultimate morning person, going for a run, making breakfast, running around, and even taking me to school while Dad worked. Done it all with a smile on his face. I rise early, as always, the routine engraved into my muscles now, coffee first, black, no sugar. I don’t allow distractions anymore, only tasks. And today, there’s one at the top of the list.

I need to befriend Mark Duke, His record is cleaner than it should be. It almost glows on paper. No mistakes, no missed inspections, and every deadline was met like clockwork. That’s the first red flag. No one in this line of work is perfect.

My phone buzzes once, a text from the internal HR contact I’ve quietly managed to sneak into the company months before my arrival. Not exactly a friend, but someone so desperate in life that was willing to be loyal to me and feed me Ashford Global records.

“Duke’s access log from three years ago has been wiped. But digital security flagged a late entry into Archive Room 2A on, the night of June 14th. Two hours after Jackson’s final design submission was logged.”

I access the surveillance logs. Most are corrupted. But one clip from June 14th remains partially intact. The hallway outside Archive Room 2A.

A shadow moves just out of range of the central camera. Blurred. Then a clearer frame.

A man’s silhouette, broad-shouldered, heavy step, holding what looks like a document tube. He stops to check the hallway. Then disappears into the room.

The timestamp reads 01:46 AM.

I pause the footage and take a screenshot. Zoom in. Enhance. The resolution is garbage, but one detail cuts through: a keycard swinging from the man’s belt, and a faint embroidered name on the collar of his work jacket.

Duke.

Got you.

But again, it's not enough. No one will convict him for this, not like they did with Jackson. And even if they do, it's not punishment enough. I will be his punishment, by the time I am done with him he will wish he was never born.

I sip the last of the coffee. It’s gone cold, bitter on my tongue, and I welcome the taste.

Access Duke's office computer and take out everything, to the last spect of dirt you can find. I sent the message to my contact and closed my laptop before heading out.

I get into my car and drive to the office, a smile on my face as I swipe the company card and pass security heading through the elevator. I press the button yet as the door closes someone sticks in their hand stopping the door.

Derek.

"Good morning, Miss Sterling." He says as he elegantly gets in and stands beside me, pressing the button again.

"Morning, Mr.Ashford." I politely respond.

Derek smiles, that effortless Ashford charm dripping from his posture, his cologne, the smooth way he adjusts the cuff of his shirt as the elevator begins its climb. There’s a pause, a quiet hum between us, but I feel him watching me from the corner of his eye.

“You didn’t mention you were consulting for Site 17B,” he says casually, like it just happened to come up in conversation, not like he’s been tracking my movements and digging far past my portfolio. “That’s quite the project to jump into.”

I tilt my head slightly, giving him the same polished smile I’ve perfected over the years.

“It was a favor to a dear friend.” Derek’s smile tightens for a fraction of a second. That name...“a dear friend” puts him on alert. He doesn’t like variables, especially not ones with invisible allies. He masks it quickly, though, nodding with a chuckle that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Well, they must be lucky to have you.” His voice is smooth, but there's something probing underneath like he's reaching for the seams in my story. “Not many would call Site 17B a favor.”

“Some of us like cleaning up messes,” I reply, my tone just sharp enough to test him. “Besides, I like getting my hands dirty.” Derek laughs, low and approving, looking closely at me.

"What?" I ask.

"Nothing, it's just that..." He looked at me yet again before turning his head, looking forward.

"What is it?" I push the matter, wanting to know what is his head cooking at.

"It's just that I have a feeling I've met you before... I just can't... place you." I freeze but then I smile, slow and deliberate, a shade too amused.

“Funny,” I say lightly, brushing an imaginary speck from my sleeve, “I get that a lot. One of those faces, I suppose. Also, thank you for the flowers you sent, it was a nice gesture.”

Derek hums, noncommittal, but his posture shifts ever so slightly.

“It was nothing, something to make you feel welcomed. On the other note, I worked all night and have a new layout drawn out. Do you want to take a look now or..."

"Yes, we can look over it in my office," I say as the door opens and I step out, Derek follows me closely behind. The boss is walking behind me, it's enough to make everyone stare yet again. They whisper, and that gives me all the more power.

I set down my briefcase on the table as Derek walks over to the table near the window and opens up the plan draft. I slowly walk over and put my hand on top of it while gently leaning into it.

He is not the only one who did research, I looked up his past projects, he was messy but now, he was good. But I was better.

"Yeah, this part here won't work. We need to move the entry lane for the heavy machinery and future delivery away from the east side." I trace my finger along the plan, tapping twice. "There’s a bottleneck risk here. Shift the entry to the north, less traffic, more flexibility with reroutes. Besides there is too much green potential here, you should always look to preserve."

He doesn’t move his hand from the blueprint. “You know,” he says, voice low and deliberate, “the last person who corrected me mid-project had to find a new industry.” That is a lie, all of their original architects are still a part of their team... except for my brother.

I meet his gaze, unfazed. “Then it’s a good thing I’m not just anyone.”

A beat passes.

Then he smiles. Slow. Sharp. Almost impressed.

“That’s what I’m beginning to suspect.”

I lift my hand from the blueprint, stepping back just enough to force him to take up the space I leave behind.

"Leave it with me, I'll sketch out a new layout," I say as twist my hair around, pinning it down with a pen into a bun. Derek watches me with the kind of attention most people reserve for puzzles they don’t yet know how to solve. He doesn’t say anything right away, he just studies me, his gaze lingering on the casual efficiency of my gesture, the confidence in my voice, the quiet authority I carry without asking for permission.

An hour later, he is still here. In my office, working together... He leans forward now, pencil tapping lightly against the edge of the plan as I sketch out the new transport route, adjusting angles and overlaying new zoning highlights. His voice cuts in, not interrupting, but complementing, suggestions that show he’s adapting quickly, pivoting around my decisions rather than resisting them.

“I’d shift the drainage line a little farther west,” he says, drawing a light-dotted arc across my sketch. “It’s a minor adjustment, but it’ll save us from having to cut into the structural form.”

I nod once. “Smart.”

Something passes between us then. It’s not just that we work well together. It’s how seamlessly it’s happening. Like this was rehearsed. Like muscle memory.

And I hate it.

"I think we managed to pull forward the critical parts. I'll take this to scanning, and input the new 3D for the meeting." I say as I move towards my computer.

"Why dont you take a five-minute break, I think we earned it." Derek says.

"I'll have a break later, I want to finish this so I can slip out a bit early. My neighbor convinced me to have a housewarming party. And I have to organize that."

"Is that your way of inviting me?" A casual line, dressed in charm and laced with just enough mischief to make it ambiguous, almost. But nothing about Derek Ashford is ever accidental. Especially not now.

I don’t look up from the screen immediately. I finish inputting a zone tag. Click. Save. Only then do I glance at him, a faint smirk on my lips.

“Depends,” I say. “Are you planning on bringing wine?"

"Of course." He says, he sees this as an opening. I see it as an opportunity.

"Then I'll leave you my address with your secretary," I say.

"Better yet, I'll leave you my phone number and you can text me." He only wants my number, and sure... he can have it.

"Fine," I say as I take a sticky note and write down my number. I hand it to him and he takes it from me, his fingure gliding over mine as I looked out the glass doors.

Mark Duke.

Walking down the hallway.

"I'll take these to scan now," I say as I take the plans and leave Derek in my office as I hurry down the hall in a matter that doesn't look like I am chasing anyone.

I see him stopping as he types on his phone and I walk towards him, prepared to accidentally bump into him when he suddenly turns around and bumps into me.

"My God, I'm so sorry." He says.

"No problem," I say as I steady myself.

"You are new here. I haven't seen you before." He studies me with a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes, like he’s scanning for information beneath my surface.

"Isabella Sterling.

Architecture Lead Consultant. I'll be introduced today during the meeting."

“Ah, so you’re the one they’ve been talking about,” he says, his tone light but with an edge to it. “I’ve heard a lot about you. Impressive credentials for someone so... fresh to the scene.”

I meet his eyes directly, letting the silence stretch just long enough to make him uncomfortable. “I don’t mind making a big impression.”

His smile falters again, just barely. He’s sizing me up, trying to figure out if I’m a threat or a pawn. The power balance between us is delicate, but I can feel the first cracks in his mask forming. Good.

“Well, I’m sure you’ll fit right in,” Mark says, his voice smooth again, though his eyes remain sharp. “My name is Mark Duke, I'm a Senior Site Manager.”

"Its nice to meet you." I lie. I offer him a cool smile, tilting my head slightly. “I’ll be seeing you around then, I suppose?”

He chuckles, though it's thin, almost forced. “Certainly. I’m sure we’ll work closely together.” His eyes linger a little too long on me, and I can feel the weight of the moment settle in as my phone buzzes.

I gently take a step back and open the message from my contact: Pulled something from Duke’s system backup. You’ll want to see this. Uploading now.

"Well, I need to get going. But I'll be seeing you around." Not for long, tho. I pivot smoothly, my expression calm, but my heart is pounding with a cold, electric rhythm now. Duke walks off without looking back. Arrogant. Overconfident. That’s going to be his downfall.