The next morning, as I was getting ready in my apartment, I heard a knock at the door. Before I could react, two men burst in and knocked me unconscious. When I finally regained consciousness, I found myself sitting in a chair in an unfamiliar office, my head pounding and my surroundings completely disorienting.
Just as I was trying to make sense of where I was, the door creaked open. A tall man in a sharp black suit stepped in, followed closely by a poised woman dressed with equal elegance — his wife. They carried an air of authority and mystery.
The man gave me a cold yet calculated smile. "Welcome to the Agency," he said in a deep, commanding voice. "I'm Mr. Liam, and this is Mrs. Liam."
He paused, letting the tension hang thick in the air before continuing. "We've been watching you. Your skills, your instincts — we believe you're exactly what we need. A spy."
Mrs. Liam stepped forward, her eyes sharp and unwavering. "This isn't just an offer. It's an opportunity. Join us, and you'll be paid handsomely — one million dollars."
The words echoed in the room, leaving me stunned. Was this real? Or had I just stepped into a world far more dangerous than I could
ever imagine ?
Mr. Liam leaned forward, his eyes locked onto mine with unsettling precision. His voice lowered, each word deliberate and sharp like a blade.
"We know you, Ella," he said, the calm in his tone more terrifying than any threat. "We know about the unpaid rent notices piling up on your kitchen counter. We know about the student loans suffocating your future… and the part-time jobs that barely keep your head above water."
He paused, letting the weight of his words sink in.
"You need money — not just to survive, but to reclaim your life. Rent. Tuition. A future. We can give you that… if you're willing to step into the shadows."
My heart pounded. I shot up from the chair, eyes wide.
"What the hell… how do you know my name?" I demanded, my voice shaking between fear and anger.
Mr. Liam didn't flinch. Instead, a slow, knowing smile crept across his face as he took a step closer.
"We know more than just your name, Ella," he said, his tone calm, almost amused. "You're Thirteen years old . Born on a rainy Tuesday in August . You have a scar on your left knee from a bike accident when you were seven. You bite your nails when you're nervous, and you always triple-check the locks before you sleep."
I felt my blood run cold.
He tilted his head slightly. "This isn't a coincidence. We've been watching. Preparing. You were never just some random girl in the city. You were chosen."