The Silence Game

The Silence Game
A few days later the office buzzed with its usual weekday rhythm—heels clicking across marble floors, fingers drumming against keyboards, muted chatter swirling in the background. But something—or rather someone—was missing.

William Scott. The CEO

By mid-morning, the word had spread like wildfire: Mr. Scott wouldn't be stepping foot in Gracia for a few days. Something about urgent matters at the Scott Group headquarters. A temporary relocation, they said.

Skylar had heard the news from one of the senior department heads. She kept her expression unreadable, but beneath the cool exterior, her pulse kicked. This was it—her window.

She didn’t say much. Just blinked, filed the information away in her mind, and returned to her workstation like nothing had changed.

Nora, seated a desk away, leaned toward her subtly. “You heard that, right?”

Skylar gave a tiny nod, eyes still on her screen.

Nora’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Tell me you’re not actually thinking what I think you’re thinking.”

Skylar didn’t reply.

A beat passed. Then Nora stood up and casually stretched. “Coffee break?”

Without waiting for a response, she walked toward the break room. Skylar followed a minute later.

Once the door shut behind them, Nora crossed her arms. “You are thinking it.”

Skylar’s lips curled into the faintest smirk. “I’ve waited days for this.”

“Sky, wait. Even if he’s not here, Jack could still be watching. You know that guy monitors security feeds like it’s Netflix.”

Skylar smirked and tapped on her laptop. “Don’t forget… I was Virus before I was Lumina.”

Nora blinked. “Oh, hell. Right.”

“Give me five minutes, and the cameras in his cabin will be too busy watching looped footage of empty furniture to notice us snooping.”

Nora exhaled a sharp breath. “You terrify me sometimes.”

“You love it.”

In the next moment, the two schemers began carefully crafting their plan.

With her digital mischief in play, Skylar slipped into the CEO's private office like a ghost. The heavy glass door clicked shut behind her. She scanned the room—every detail meticulously curated, every object in its place.

Except one thing didn’t belong: her.

Nora played lookout outside, pretending to flirt with the intern from IT to keep any wandering eyes away.

Skylar moved with purpose—gloved fingers trailing along bookshelves, eyes scanning for hidden mechanisms or anomalies. Her instincts screamed there was something here, something behind the sleek panels and leather-bound ledgers.

Ten minutes in, a knock nearly gave Nora a heart attack.

“Jack is here!” she whispered urgently through her earpiece. “Says he left his charger in there!”

Skylar swore under her breath and ducked behind the side cabinet just as the door opened.

“Where did I…” Jack muttered to himself, walking in.

She stayed still, didn’t dare breathe. Her heart was pounding like war drums in her ears.

Jack scanned the desk, grumbling, “That damn charger…”

He walked over to the side table, grabbed the cable, and—thankfully—walked right back out, completely unaware of the intruder hiding in plain sight.

The moment the door clicked shut, Skylar let out a slow breath. “Okay. That was too close.”

She emerged cautiously and resumed her search, carefully inspecting drawers, running her fingers along wood edges, tapping for hollows. But just as she was about to pull open a lower cabinet—

“Knock knock! Jack forgot his pen!”

It was one of the interns, cheerful and clueless. Skylar yanked open the blinds and pretended to be fixing the curtain rod.

“Maintenance said there’s a fault in the hinge,” she said coolly, straightening up. “Tell Jack it’s on the side table.”

The intern nodded and walked out.

Skylar muttered under her breath, “Next time, I’m locking that damn door.”

Still, she had no luck that day. The vault, if it even existed, remained hidden like a needle in a haystack.

An hour later in the break room.

Nora dragged her in and shut the door behind them. “That’s the fourth time someone almost caught you.”

Skylar leaned against the wall, frustrated. “There’s a pattern to the room. I can feel it. Something’s off with the bookshelf—some titles are out of order, one row is too tight, but it’s like playing Jenga with a bomb attached.”

“You need a break before you blow your cover,” Nora whispered, glancing at the hallway. “We’ve got real work piling up. The marketing team’s asking for you, and Sid’s been sniffing around like he’s bored.”

Skylar sighed, rubbing her temples. “Fine. I’ll shelve the search for now.”

“But we go again tomorrow?” Nora asked.

Skylar’s eyes darkened with determination. “Tomorrow, I tear that place apart if I have to. I didn’t come this far to get scared off by chargers and interns.”

She came back the next day, twice as prepared and twice as determined.

This time, she spotted it—a set of slightly uneven books on the third shelf. Pushing one revealed a biometric scanner disguised as a spine label. Clever, but not clever enough.

She hacked it. Naturally.

The shelf clicked, revealing a concealed compartment behind it. Inside: a compact vault, matte black, with a sleek digital interface.

Password-protected.

She smirked. “Amateurs.”

Next to the vault, a slim file was hidden behind a false book cover titled “Corporate Strategies of the East”. Inside the file was a list of Green Group's old design assets—some with familiar watermarks.

Her father’s.

Her chest tightened.

Heart racing, she keyed in the password: the birthdate of someone important—She guessed it right. It clicked open.

Inside lay not money, not jewels, but something far more valuable: a ledger, a flash drive, and an old red belt box— something front related to her father. She recognized it instantly.

And with it, undeniable proof of a corporate betrayal. It had been buried deep inside enemy territory all along.

She held the drive like it was a relic.

“Now just one step away,” she whispered.

She pulled out her phone and dialed a secure line.

“Arnold,” she said, eyes gleaming. “Let’s begin the last phase. The Nelsons won’t know what hit them.”

Later That Night at William Scott's Mansion

It wasn’t until she walked through the front doors of the sprawling Scott home, excitement still humming under her skin, that she realized something felt… off.

The living room was dark. William’s car was missing from the driveway. No usual low hum of music from his den. No lingering cologne in the hallway.

He wasn’t home.

Her brows knit together.

Had it really been two days?

She picked up her phone and called him.

Another side in the Scott Group, William’s Office.

He paced his cabin like a caged wolf, fuming.

“I’m losing my mind,” he snapped. “Your idea sucks.”

Jack leaned casually against the doorway, coffee in hand, as if he hadn’t just orchestrated emotional warfare.

“These things require patience,” he said coolly.

William’s eyes narrowed. “It’s been two days, Jack. Not a word. Not even a question about where I am.”

“You sure about that?”

William’s jaw clenched. “No messages. No missed calls. For all she knows, I’ve dropped off the face of the earth.”

He reached for his phone.

Jack intercepted it in one smooth motion. “Don’t.”

“You’re not serious.”

“You said she needs to feel your absence. Don’t crack now.”

William’s expression was a storm barely held in check. Then—his phone lit up. Skylar.

Both men paused.

William stepped forward instantly, but Jack was faster—sidestepping and holding the phone out of reach. “Let it ring.”

William’s tone was low, dangerous. “You’re pushing it.”

“She’s calling. That means the silence is working.”

The call ended.

William exhaled sharply, fist landing on the desk with controlled force. “You better be right about this.”

Then the screen pinged.

Three messages. Short. Simple. Direct.

‘Are you still at work?’
‘Is the Scott Group situation serious?’
‘Will you be home late?’

Jack extended the phone like a trophy. “There it is. Concern. Curiosity. That’s progress.”

William stared at the screen, the faintest trace of something shifting in his eyes. “She actually reached out.”

“Don’t get sentimental. I’ll handle the reply.”

William shot him a look. “Don’t push your luck.”

But Jack was already typing:

‘I won’t be coming home tonight. See you later.’

William’s tone dropped into a warning growl. “That’s not how I would’ve handled it.”

“I know,” Jack said, stepping back. “That’s why it’ll work.”

William didn’t respond. He just stared at the phone, torn between satisfaction and frustration.

\---

Skylar read the message, heart sinking just a little.

“Not coming home?”

Her thumb hovered over the screen, then she typed:

'Alright. Take care.'

She set the phone aside and sat quietly, the earlier thrill of the day slowly ebbing into something unfamiliar. Something unsettling.

Why was it so quiet without him?

“Maybe it’s just because I’ve been living with him too long,” she whispered to herself. “If I was back at my place, I wouldn’t miss him.”

She knew it was a lie the moment she said it.

\---
William’s lips pressed into a thin line as he read her response.

“‘Take care?’ That’s it?”

“You expected ‘I miss you’ after two days?” Jack snorted. “You ghosted her, not rescued her from a fire.”

William leaned back in frustration. “I hate playing games.”

“Then think of this as chess. You’re sacrificing a pawn to corner her king.”

William averted his eyes, fists subtly curling at his sides.

“I just hope next time she sees me…” he muttered.

Jack finished for him. “She’ll come running.”