Chapter 29 Leo

Chapter 29 Leo


Zoey

The file loomed on my desk like a quiet menace. It was almost laughable how a mere stack of paper could send shivers down my spine. But I knew Leo Thorne all too well. He never handed out “confidential” assignments without a shadowy motive lurking beneath the surface.

The edges of the folder caught the glow of my desk lamp, the gold seal shimmering like a warning sign. For hours, I found myself just staring at it, nursing a cup of coffee that had long gone cold, pretending I wasn’t terrified of what lay inside.

“Don’t discuss this with anyone.” 
His voice echoed in my mind, as if it had been stored there.

I really shouldn’t have opened it. I reminded myself of that a hundred times before finally peeling back the seal. But curiosity has always been my Achilles' heel, and it had already cost me dearly.

The paper yielded with a soft rip that seemed to slice through the stillness of my apartment. I pulled out the contents slowly, files, photos, reports, a flash drive. Each item spread out before me like a grim tableau.

The first photograph, a man in his mid-forties, with a stern expression, dressed in a black suit. Beneath his image, written in neat red ink: 
Deceased.

I flipped through the next few pages. Background checks. Criminal records. Bank transactions. Some names were familiar, employees from Thorne Industries. Others were complete strangers.

But the worst moment came when I stumbled upon my own name.

My fingers numbed as I lifted my file. There it was, my photo from my employee badge, stapled to a list of details that felt like an invasion of privacy. My address. My parents’ names. My college transcripts. My emergency contact, which I had intentionally left blank.

Someone had filled it in anyway. Leo Thorne. The air around me felt suffocating. Beneath my file was another, thicker one, labeled Ethan Thorne.

I stared at it for what felt like an eternity before finally sliding the paper out. Inside were candid photographs of himat work, leaving his apartment, chatting on the phone. There were transcripts of his calls and notes scrawled in Leo’s handwriting.

“Keep a close eye on him.”
“Make sure Zoey stays close.”

Was Leo using me to keep tabs on Ethan? Or was it the other way around?

I hated that I was in the dark. I hated that I still cared about Leo’s opinion, even after everything that had happened. I lay awake until dawn, my eyes glued to the papers scattered across my table, my heart racing like it was in a marathon. By morning, I still had no answers, just a head full of questions that felt too risky to voice.

The office looked just like it always did, busy and a bit too eerie. When I reached Leo’s floor, his door was shut tight. I hesitated, my hand hovering over the doorknob. My heart was still pounding, but I needed to ask him something, anything.

Just a hint of where to begin. Who I could trust. And then I heard it. A woman’s giggle. Soft, breathy, and way too intimate.

Her laughter rang out again, followed by Leo’s unmistakable voice, deep and smooth, but lighter than I’d ever heard it. Playful.

The air felt like it was being sucked out of me. I didn’t want to imagine what was going on behind that door, but my mind didn’t care about my wishes. For a few seconds, I stood there, staring at the door as if it might spill its secrets if I just looked hard enough. Then, before my jealousy could humiliate me any further, I turned on my heel and walked away.

I didn’t stop until I was standing in front of Ethan’s office.

He was hunched over his computer when I stepped inside, typing furiously. His glasses were perched low on his nose, and the faint frown line between his brows softened when he glanced up.

“Zoey?” His tone shifted to one of concern. “Are you okay?”

“Can we talk?” I asked softly.

He studied me for a moment, then pushed away from his desk. “Not here.”

“What?!”

“Walls have ears,” he said, grabbing his blazer like he couldn’t get out of there fast enough. “Come on. Lunch. Cafeteria.”

The cafeteria was loud. Trays crashed, people laughed, the smell of burnt coffee floated from somewhere in the back. Ethan and I found a table tucked as far away from everyone as possible. He ordered for both of us. He always did that when he caught me drifting off.

He waited until the food showed up before he finally said anything. “So,” he leaned in, elbows planted on the table, “what’s with your face?”

“What do you mean?”

“You look like you just found out the devil’s on payroll.”

I tried to laugh, or at least smile, but it barely happened. “You’re not exactly wrong.”

He tilted his head. “Leo?”

I hesitated. “He… gave me something yesterday. A file.”

Ethan’s face tightened. “Yeah, I figured. What’s in it?”

“I can’t tell you.”

“You can’t or won’t?”

“Both.”

He exhaled, long and loud, then leaned back. “Zoey, if he’s dragging you into something—”

“He’s not,” I shot back, way too quickly. “I just… need to figure out what this is first.”

He stared, trying to see right through me. “Are you sure? If something’s up, I can help.”

“I’m fine,” I said.

He snorted. “Right. Because people who are fine always show up looking like their boss’s cologne is haunting them.”

I felt my breath hitch, just for a second. If he noticed, he let it slide.

We sat there, not saying a word. The cafeteria buzzed all around, but it just blurred into the background. Then, out of nowhere, a loud crash. Somebody dropped a tray by the entrance. The whole place jolted at the noise. Right after, a woman’s voice cut through, sharp and annoyed.

“Oh, for God’s sake, does no one watch where they’re going?”

Everyone looked over. Ethan frowned and got up fast. “Stay here,” he told me, already heading toward the mess.

I twisted in my seat just in time to see her. She stood in the middle of it all, auburn hair loose over her shoulders, looking completely put together in her cream blazer. There was coffee on the floor at her feet, but somehow, not a drop on her. Her heels clicked as she surveyed the scene, like the spilled coffee had personally insulted her.

Then she spotted Ethan.

“Ethan?” Her voice was equal parts shock and happiness.

He stopped. Then he smiled, really smiled, in a way I’d never seen. He crossed the room and, before I could even process it, he was hugging her.

Hugging her.