Interruption

The first thing that went wrong was the silence.

Blackwood Systems was never silent.

Even early mornings carried a low hum—keyboards, distant voices, the soft whir of elevators. It was the sound of momentum. Of things moving forward whether you were ready or not.

That morning, when I stepped off the elevator, the floor was still.

Too still.

No assistants at their desks. No low conversations. No movement behind the glass offices lining the perimeter.

Just me.

And the lights—dimmed.

I stopped short, heart stuttering.

Maybe I was early.

I checked my phone.

7:12 a.m.

Not early.

I took a few steps forward, heels echoing louder than they should have. My desk sat exactly where it always did, immaculate, untouched. Adrian’s office beyond it was dark.

That had never happened.

I set my bag down slowly, unease crawling up my spine.

Then my tablet lit up.

Not with the usual calendar.

With a message.

SYSTEM NOTICE

ACCESS TEMPORARILY SUSPENDED

My breath caught.

“What?” I whispered.

I tapped the screen again. Nothing. No email. No schedule. No access to anything beyond my name at the top.

Miss Hale.

The elevator chimed behind me.

I turned.

Two men stepped out.

Not executives. Not staff.

Security.

They moved with purpose, eyes scanning the floor before settling on me.

“Miss Hale?” one asked.

“Yes.”

“We need you to come with us.”

My pulse spiked. “Why?”

“Protocol,” the other replied.

“For what?”

Neither answered.

I glanced instinctively toward Adrian’s office.

Dark.

“Is Mr. Blackwood aware of this?” I asked.

A beat.

“Yes,” the first man said.

Something about the way he said it made my stomach drop.

They escorted me back into the elevator without touching me, without raising their voices. Polite. Efficient.

Controlled.

The doors slid shut.

“Where are we going?” I asked.

“Conference level,” one replied.

“That’s not—”

The elevator began to descend.

The ride was quiet, the air thick with unspoken tension. My thoughts raced. Had I done something wrong? Missed something? Broken a rule I didn’t know existed?

People don’t leave him.

The words echoed.

The elevator opened onto a floor I’d never been on before.

No windows. No glass. Just matte walls and recessed lighting. The kind of place meant to contain conversations.

They led me into a room with a long table and three empty chairs.

“Sit,” one said.

I did.

The door closed behind them.

I was alone.

Minutes passed.

Then ten.

I checked my phone. No signal.

My chest tightened.

Finally, the door opened.

Adrian walked in.

No suit jacket. No tablet. No phone.

Just him.

He closed the door behind him himself.

“What is this?” I demanded before he could speak.

“You’re safe,” he said.

“That’s not an answer.”

“No,” he agreed calmly. “It’s a priority.”

He took the chair across from me, posture relaxed but alert. Like a man prepared for impact.

“What’s going on?” I asked.

“There’s been a breach,” he said.

My heart skipped. “A breach of what?”

“Trust,” he replied.

The word landed wrong.

“Someone accessed internal data they shouldn’t have,” he continued. “They used credentials tied to my office.”

I stared at him. “You think that was me?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“But I’m the one locked out,” I shot back. “I’m the one being escorted by security.”

“Yes,” he said. “Because proximity matters.”

“Then explain,” I demanded. “Because right now, it feels like I’m being punished for something I didn’t do.”

His gaze held mine, unwavering.

“I believe you,” he said.

The certainty in his voice stunned me.

“Then why am I here?”

“Because someone wants you to think I don’t,” he replied.

I went cold.

“You’re being tested,” he continued. “Not by me.”

“By who?”

“Someone who thinks you’re leverage.”

My breath caught. “Leverage for what?”

“For me.”

The room felt smaller.

“I didn’t ask for this,” I whispered.

“No,” he said quietly. “You didn’t.”

For a moment, the mask slipped.

Just enough.

His jaw tightened. His hands curled slightly against the table.

“This is why I don’t allow unpredictability near me,” he said. “And why I protect what’s mine.”

Mine.

The word rang in my ears.

“I’m not an object,” I said.

His eyes softened—barely. “I know.”

“Then don’t talk like that.”

He leaned forward slightly. “Then don’t underestimate how dangerous attention can be.”

The door opened abruptly.

A woman stepped in—sharp suit, sharper eyes.

“Mr. Blackwood,” she said. “We traced the access point.”

Adrian didn’t look at her. “And?”

“It wasn’t internal,” she said. “Someone spoofed credentials externally.”

I exhaled shakily.

“Meaning?” I asked.

She glanced at Adrian. “Meaning Miss Hale was never the target.”

“Then why lock me out?” I snapped.

“Because,” Adrian said quietly, “they wanted to see how I’d respond.”

The woman left.

Silence followed.

“What did you do?” I asked.

He met my gaze. “I shut everything down.”

“All of it?”

“Yes.”

“For me?”

“For the message it sends,” he replied. “No one touches what’s under my authority.”

My stomach twisted.

“That’s not reassuring,” I said.

“It’s meant to be final.”

I stood, hands trembling. “I didn’t sign up to be bait.”

“No,” he said. “You signed up to be close.”

The honesty cut deeper than a lie.

“I want to go home,” I said.

He nodded immediately. “You will.”

He stood, pressing a button near the door.

A car will take you,” he said. “And you won’t return tomorrow.”

My head snapped up. “What?”

“You’ll work remotely until I decide otherwise.”

“That’s not—”

“It’s non-negotiable,” he said. Then softer, “This isn’t a punishment.”

“It feels like isolation.”

“It’s protection.”

“From who?”

He hesitated.

“From realizing too soon,” he said.

The door opened.

I walked out without another word.

That night, my phone buzzed once.

Unknown Number

You were never supposed to be visible yet.

My blood ran cold.

Because I knew—

That message didn’t come from Adrian.

And whatever I had stepped into?

It was bigger than him.