Chapter 8 The visit
Chapter Eight
The word footage resonated in the silence of my apartment, cold and final. It wasn’t a threat based on a rumor or a hunch; it was a threat based on irrefutable, digital evidence. Someone didn't just know I woke up in Adrian Cole’s hotel suite they had the receipts. They had captured the moment I was pulled, drunken and helpless, into his car.
I dropped the phone on the couch cushion, jumping back as if the glass screen were poisonous.
Good thing you resigned.
The words slammed into me with the force of a revelation. My resignation wasn't the price for silence; it was a tactical maneuver by the blackmailer. They hadn't wanted me fired for being a corporate liability; they wanted me out. Out of the secured environment of Cole Enterprises, out of any proximity to Adrian, and into the isolation where I had no access to information and no one to trust.
I had effectively done the blackmailer’s work for them.
This wasn't a punishment for a naughty text anymore. This was a targeted attack on Adrian, and I was the flimsy, disposable bridge they used to reach him. The shame of the one-night stand, the heartbreak of losing Ethan it was all a distraction from the real danger.
The fear that gripped me was no longer about my reputation; it was about survival. If they had footage of a vulnerable employee being carried into the CEO’s car, what would they do to the CEO himself to get what they wanted? And if Adrian went down, what assurance did I have that I wouldn’t be dragged into the public scandal, painted as the willing mistress who helped orchestrate corporate downfall?
I had a secret, and now a stranger owned it.
I needed clarity. I needed a plan. And the only other person on the planet who shared this specific, explosive secret the man I had just furiously resigned from was Adrian Cole.
I hated the thought of facing him again. I hated the thought of seeing his calm, indifferent eyes and being forced to admit my panic, but there was no other choice. If I ran and hid, I became an easier target. If I went back, at least I’d have the chance to look the devil in the eye.
My adrenaline, which had been depleted by days of grief, returned with a furious, cold clarity. I stalked into the bathroom. My reflection was a mess pale skin, dark circles, hair matted from restless sleep. This wouldn't do. I needed to look like the employee who was “too perfect,” the one Adrian said always bounced back.
I took a long, hot shower, scrubbing away the smell of self-pity and the phantom scent of Adrian’s cologne. I pulled on my sharpest pencil skirt and a crisp, white blouse my armor. I tied my shoulder-length curls back severely. By the time I was done, the woman staring back at me was composed, professional, and ready for war.
I didn't call. I knew Adrian wouldn't take my call. I simply took a cab straight to the gleaming, hostile tower of Cole Enterprises.
The lobby was just as imposing as I remembered: marble, chrome, and the hush of money. I felt like a ghost walking through my former life. My security badge my key to the kingdom was deactivated, tossed into a drawer three days ago.
I walked up to the reception desk, where Mr. Reynolds, the middle-aged security manager who had checked my ID every morning for months, looked up. His expression went from benign professionalism to stunned disbelief.
“Miss James?” he asked, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “I thought you resigned.”
“I did, Mr. Reynolds,” I said, my voice steady and low. I hated the lie I was about to tell, but it was necessary. “I’m here to finalize a severance document with Mr. Cole. He requested I deliver the signed paperwork in person.”
It was a blatant lie. Adrian Cole didn't deal in severance paperwork. But the lie implied power, and in that building, power was a passport. Mr. Reynolds, seeing my professional attire and my determined face, decided not to question it.
He made a quick, murmured call upstairs. I waited, forcing my hands not to clench, watching the dizzying ascent of the express elevators.
“You’re cleared to the 78th floor, Miss James,” Reynolds said, handing me a temporary badge a brightly colored, humiliating guest pass. “Mr. Cole’s secretary is expecting you.”
I nodded and walked toward the elevator banks. Each floor I passed felt like a step deeper into the belly of a hungry beast. The higher I went, the heavier the air became, thick with the weight of corporate secrets and my own terrifying truth.
When the elevator doors whispered open on the top floor, Mrs. Chen, Adrian’s austere secretary, was waiting. She didn’t smile. She didn’t look surprised. Her eyes were cold, professional, and utterly unreadable.
“Miss James,” she said, her tone confirming that I was the last person she expected, or wanted, to see. “Mr. Cole is in a private meeting. He asked me to tell you he is unable to see you at this time.”
My stomach plummeted. He was avoiding me. Or perhaps, he was already caught up in the disaster the blackmailer had unleashed.
“I understand,” I said, walking past her desk, my eyes fixed on the massive, double-door entrance to Adrian Cole’s private office. “But what I need to discuss with him can’t wait. It’s urgent. It’s about the… footage.”
The moment the word left my lips, Mrs. Chen’s composure cracked. Her hand, resting near her phone, stiffened, and her eyes, usually devoid of emotion, darted toward the closed office doors.
“Miss James, you cannot go in there,” she warned, her voice suddenly tight with panic.
I didn't listen. My hand was already on the cold, heavy handle. I pushed the door open, stepping past the line of her desperate whisper, and into the hushed sanctum of Adrian Cole’s office.
He was there, standing by his wall of glass, phone pressed to his ear, looking out at the city. But he wasn’t alone.
Sitting across from his desk, composed and smiling with a chilling familiarity, was Ethan.
Adrian looked up, his grey eyes widening in shock. Ethan, however, simply tilted his head, his smile never faltering.
“Lila,” Ethan murmured, his gaze cutting from Adrian to me. “I was just telling Adrian that your accidental text to him
was the least of his problems.”