chapter 3

He didn’t make a sound.

He didn’t move quickly.

He just stood there — tall, calm, impossibly unreadable.

But his eyes…

They were the kind of eyes that could walk straight into your thoughts without knocking.

Grant slowly stood up behind me.

“Mr. Knight,” he said with a thin smile that looked like it was stitched onto his face. “What a surprise.”

Darlington didn’t look at him.

He only watched me.

One long, quiet stare that stripped away every lie I could ever think of.

My heart slammed inside my chest so hard it hurt.

Finally, he spoke. His voice was deep and smooth, but cold — like someone speaking from far away.

“Why,” he asked quietly, “is my name inside that folder?”

The room felt too small.

The air too tight.

My breath too short.

I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. My throat felt locked shut.

Grant stepped forward quickly, trying to control the moment. “This is a misunderstanding—”

Darlington raised one hand.

Just one.

And Grant fell silent immediately.

Darlington’s attention never left me.

He took two slow steps into the room. Each step measured. Quiet. Controlled.

“What,” he asked me again, “does Grant want from me?”

My fingers twisted together until they hurt.

“I—I…” My voice shook. “It’s not… it’s not what you think.”

He lifted an eyebrow slightly. “Then tell me what it is.”

The truth was simple:

I couldn’t lie to him.

Not because he scared me.

But because I somehow knew he would see right through it.

Grant tried again. “Darlington, let the girl leave. She—”

“That wasn’t a request,” Darlington said softly without looking at him.

Grant’s mouth snapped shut.

Darlington looked at me for a long moment more. Then he spoke very quietly:

“Stand up.”

My legs felt like paper, but I stood.

He didn’t touch me.

He didn’t reach for me.

He simply turned and walked out of the office, expecting me to follow.

And I did.

Clinton stepped aside quickly as Darlington passed. The hallway felt colder than before. I heard Grant behind us, breathing hard, but he didn’t try to stop us.

Darlington’s steps were slow but confident. The casino noise faded with each second, and the deeper we walked, the quieter everything became.

Finally, I found my voice. “Where… where are we going?”

He didn’t look back. “Somewhere less crowded.”

I kept following him because I didn’t know what else to do. My hands were shaking, but my mind was screaming with fear.

He heard everything. Everything. He heard Grant’s offer. He heard what I was supposed to do. What if he thinks I’m a threat? What if he calls security? What if he—

The elevator doors opened.

Darlington stepped inside and held the door with one hand. He didn’t speak. He didn’t even look impatient. He simply waited for me.

I stepped in slowly.

The door closed with a soft sound.

Just me.

Just him.

Just the quiet hum of the elevator rising.

I kept my eyes on the floor, afraid to look at him.

After a long moment, he spoke — calm, quiet, but sharp.

“Why do you need two million dollars?”

My head snapped up. “H-How did—”

“I heard enough,” he said simply. “Your voice. Your tone. The desperation in your eyes.”

I swallowed. “It’s for my mother.”

“What’s wrong with her?”

“Her heart,” I whispered. “She needs surgery. Soon. Very soon.”

He studied me, his eyes narrowing just slightly.

“And Grant used that against you.”

It wasn’t a question.

I blinked hard. “He wasn’t against me. I borrowed money from him before. I owed him. I—”

“You owed him interest,” Darlington said softly. “Not your life.”

I pressed my back to the elevator wall, feeling my chest tighten.

He looked at me again — really looked this time. Not like I was a threat. Not like I was a liar.

More like I was a puzzle he was trying to understand.

Then he asked another question, slower this time:

“Why did you agree to do something so dangerous?”

My chin trembled. “I didn’t agree. I just… I needed time to think.”

“Do you usually think inside criminal deals?” he asked.

The elevator kept rising.

My fear kept rising with it.

“Mr. Knight,” I whispered, “I’m not a criminal.”

His eyes softened — barely. A fraction. But I noticed it.

“I know,” he said.

Somehow, that one sentence made my breath shake harder.

He turned his head slightly, looking at the number panel as the elevator climbed higher and higher.

Then he asked the question that scared me the most:

“Why did Grant choose you?”

I froze.

I knew the answer.

Grant had said it so plainly.

Because I was forgettable.

Harmless.

Desperate.

But I didn’t want to repeat those words. Not to this man. Not to someone who looked at me like I was more than that.

So I stayed silent.

Darlington didn’t push.

He just watched me with eyes that seemed to see every fear, every secret, every small piece of me I tried to hide.

When the elevator finally stopped, the doors opened with a soft chime.

A quiet, dimly lit hallway waited outside — elegant, expensive, private.

Darlington stepped out first. Then he looked back at me, his expression unreadable.

“Come,” he said. “Let’s talk somewhere quiet.”