A Familiar Shadow

I can’t help feeling as if Liam Knight’s eyes are burning into me too, that I’m in the spotlight when I never volunteered for it. Two days have passed since the bathroom stall, since those pink lines changed everything for me, and I’m still walking a high wire at Knight Enterprises — pretending like nothing is wrong. My desk is a stronghold of spreadsheets and coffee cups, but my mind is on him — on that low, teasing laugh from the masquerade ball, the way his hands felt so certain, so right. It’s ridiculous. He’s my boss, the unattainable CEO, not some strange man who’d seduce me in a hotel room. But when he’s near my heart betrays me, thumping as though it knows something I do not.

This morning, I am holed up in my cubicle, sifting through emails when my phone vibrates. Mia, texting again: You positive you’re all right? You’ve been strange since the gala. I ignore it. She’s too perceptive with me, and I’m not yet ready to spill the truth about the pregnancy—or my fear that possibly Liam sired it. I open up a browser instead and key in “Knight Enterprises masquerade ball” loaded in my search bar. I need answers, I need something to prove I’m not going crazy. Onscreen, the images crowd: spangled masks, champagne flutes, power players in tuxes. I scroll, feeling my breath catch at the sight of a grainy shot of a man in a black mask, a gold cufflink shining at his wrist. It is emblazoned with the Knight Enterprises logo — a stylized “K” I’d know anywhere. My stomach flips. It’s him. It has to be.

Before I manage to spiral, above the noise of the office, Liam’s voice echoes in my ears. “Larson, my office. Now.” He’s got that edge in his tone, like I’m in trouble already. I snatch my notebook, smoothing my skirt as I chase after him. Given a fishbowl feel by the glass walls of his corner office, every eye is on me as I enter. He stands in a doorframe, arms crossed, elbows bent, wearing a dark suit that fits him closely. Those piercing gray eyes pin me, and for a brief moment, it’s almost like the stranger from that night — intent, searching, almost recognizable.

“Your second revised Q2 report,” he says, slapping it down on the desk. “An improvement though still lacking depth on the Asian markets. You’re slipping, Emma.”

I bristle, feeling the heat begin to crawl up my neck. “I pulled the latest data. It’s on page fifteen, cross-referenced with —”

“I don’t need excuses,” he interrupts me, and then his voice softens, marginally. “You’re on an Orion project now. High-profile, high stakes. Don’t let me down.”

The Orion project. It is the company’s largest deal this year, a multibillion-dollar expansion. Before I am able to snap it up again, my jaw falls down. “Me? I’m just a junior analyst.”

He cocks an eyebrow, almost smiling. “You’re not just anything. Prove it.” His eyes linger, and I can feel it again — that pull, that thread that connects us to that night. I nod mumbling a “Yes, sir,” and run out before I make an idiot of myself.

Back at my desk, I’m reeling. The Orion project is working alongside Liam, getting closer after hours and close calls. It’s an opportunity to shine, but also a chance to crash and burn if Vanessa gets her way. Behind my back, she’s been circling like a shark, spouting even more vicious things than before since she overheard me mention the doctor. I hear her laughing with another analyst now, her voice penetrating:“Emma has been distract lately. I wonder what’s got her so … distracted.” Her words are honey dripping with poison, and I know she’s planting seeds, turning the office against me.

Work, as hard as I try to focus, my mind’s racing. That photo of the cufflink continues to gnaw at me. I have to know if Liam was a the ball, if he’s the one. Mia’s out at a client lunch, so I can’t exactly bounce this off her, but there’s someone who might be able to help. Liam’s sister, Claire Knight, does the company’s PR. She was at the gala, she probably saw everyone who counted. I spot her in the break room, filling a coffee cup, her light brown hair twisted into an elegant bun. She hasn’t been warm, but she’s been approachable.

“Claire, heyyy,” I begin, way too brightly. “Amazing gala the other night, huh?”

She looks up, her gray eyes — uncannily similar to Liam’s — squinting slightly. “It was… eventful. Why?” Her tone is cautious, as if she’s trying me on.

“Just curious. Did Liam go? I didn’t see him.” I attempt to sound casual, but my heart is racing.

Claire’s mouth twitches, a hint of a smile. “Oh, he was there. Quite the night, from what I hear.” She pauses, studying me. “Why do you ask?”

My throat tightens. “No reason. Just… making conversation.” I back off, heart pounding. Quite a night. What does that mean? Did she see him with me? I’m just about to poke her for answers when Vanessa slinks into the room, her smirk directed straight at me.

“You’re a very popular show today, Emma,” she says, with a syrupy sweetness. “Careful, though. People are starting to talk. Wouldn’t want rumors getting around.”

I freeze. She’s fishing, and she knows something.” Maybe not the pregnancy, but enough to make my life a living Goddamned hell. Claire arches an eyebrow but doesn’t answer, drinking her coffee in silence as Vanessa drifts out the door. Or it’s a web I’m inside of — Liam’s look, Vanessa’s blackmail, Claire’s cryptic clues. The cufflink leaves Liam tethered to that night, and Claire’s response essentially confirms it. I’m not just keeping a secret anymore; I’m keeping his secret. And if I’m correct, there’s no turning back from what follows.