Tangled Lies

The air in the Knight Enterprises break room is thick, as if Vanessa's sneer is sucking all the oxygen molecules up: She's gone now, her heels ringing away down the hallway, but her words rumble over me like a thunderstorm: People are talking. My fingers wrap around my coffee mug, the heat not managing to counteract the shiver creeping up my neck. I’m Emma Larson, the girl who’s supposed to have it all together, but right now, I’m a mess of secrets and suspicions. That cufflink photo from the masquerade ball, Claire’s cryptic comment about Liam’s “eventful” night—it’s all pointing to one impossible truth. My boss, Liam Knight, might be the father of the baby I’m carrying. And Vanessa Hale, with her shark’s smile, is sniffing too close to the truth.

I force myself back to my cubicle, the office buzzing around me like a hive. My inbox is a war zone, with emails about the Orion project piling up. Liam having faith in me to close this deal is both a lifeline and a noose—I'll be toast if I screw it up, but it's also my chance to show that I belong here. I try to focus on the numbers, but Vanessa's voice still filters through my head. She knows something. Maybe not the pregnancy, but she heard me mention the doctor to Mia, and she's not going to let a loose thread unravel. I have to get in front of this, get her before she uses the office rumor mill against and for me.

At noon, I'm on edge, my nerves frayed like wire. I need to sort myself out, have something concrete about that evening. On a whim, I put on my jacket and step outside, take the subway to the hotel where the masquerade was held. The Grand Meridian is opulence personified—marble floor, dripping crystal chandeliers—but in daylight it appears different, not so much a fantasy but a crime scene. I stand in the ballroom where it was once crowded with people but now only a janitor mopping the floor. I don't know what I'm looking for—a clue, a memory, something to confirm Liam was the man under the mask. I walk to where we danced, recalling his hands around my waist so vividly I feel them.

"Miss, you all right?" The janitor's voice makes me jump. He's older, with kind eyes and a name tag that reads "Frank."

"Yeah, just. remembering the gala," I say, smiling brightly. "It was a big night.".

He grins. "Big for most people. Discovered all sorts of things afterward—masks, jewelry, even a note." My ears perk up.

"A note?" I ask, too optimistic. "What kind?"

He shrugs, pulling out a small crumpled paper from his pocket. "This one's been in lost and found. No one claimed it." He offers it to me, and my heart skips a beat. The handwriting is lovely, feminine: He's closer than you think. No autograph, but I know it's not an accident. Claire's face flashes into my mind—her smile contained behind walls, the way she looked at me in the break room. Is this her, making sure I'm in line? Or worse, is this Vanessa, playing games with me?

I thank Frank and stick the note into my purse, along with the pregnancy test I can't seem to shake off like some kind of lucky charm. Back at the office, the day drags, and Vanessa’s presence is everywhere. She’s leaning over a coworker’s desk, laughing too loud, her eyes flicking to me every few minutes. During a team huddle, she corners me, her voice low and sweet like poison. “Big project, Emma. Hope you’re not too distracted to handle it. Wouldn’t want Liam thinking you’re not up to the task.”

I meet her gaze, my jaw tight. “I’m handling it just fine, Vanessa. Maybe focus on your own work.”

Her smile never falters, but her eyes develop a sharp edge. "Oh, I am. Just looking out for you. Folks notice when you're. not yourself. Like sneaking out to see doctors." My heart stops. She's no longer inquiring—she's questioning, and she's close. I attempt to laugh, shove past her, but my hands are shaking by the time I make it to my desk.

Later in the afternoon, Liam emails me, his tone crisp but oddly close: Need to get your opinion on Orion this evening. My office, 7 p.m. My stomach tightens. The more time with him, the more I have to fall, to let something creep through. But the more time with him also means a chance to watch him, to see if he remembers that night as I do. I'm going to answer when Mia texts: We need to talk. Tonight. At my place. She's persistent, and I know she cares, but telling her about the pregnancy is like opening a door I can't close. Not yet.

The office is clearing out, and I'm alone with the note, the threat from Vanessa, and Liam's looming shadow. The cufflink ties him to the ball, Claire's words imply his collusion, and now this note—He's closer than you think—is threatening. My universe is shifting, the ground rotating under me. I'm not just maintaining a secret pregnancy now; I'm caught up in lies, and every move I make leads me deeper. Vanessa's watching, Claire's questioning, and Liam's too close for comfort. If he's the father, the stakes are more than my job—they're my entire damn future.