The following morning, the office felt even colder than usual. I entered with a sense of caution, half-expecting to see Adrian's figure lingering in the shadows, watching, waiting. My bag felt heavier than the day before, weighed down not by papers, but by the unseen threat that seemed to follow me wherever I went.
I sat at my desk, trying to force myself to focus on the Solinar case, but every sound—the shuffle of papers, the tap of a keyboard, even the distant echo of footsteps in the hallway—made me jump. I kept glancing at the window, half-expecting to see a familiar silhouette across the street. Each time I convinced myself it was nothing, I could almost hear that quiet, persistent voice in my mind: "Be careful, Elena."
The new document my supervisor had given me yesterday sat on my desk, unopened. I hesitated. I didn't want to know what it contained—not yet—but I also knew I couldn't avoid it. Finally, with a trembling hand, I flipped it open.
It was a file about an unknown figure, connected to multiple financial transactions and shady dealings. Nothing directly incriminating, yet every line hinted at something larger, something dangerous. As I read, I couldn't shake the feeling that Adrian's presence lingered even here, in the sterile fluorescent light of my office.
A sudden knock on my door made me jump.
"Elena, can I have a word?" It was my supervisor again, her tone hesitant, as if she sensed my unease.
I nodded, gripping the edge of my chair. "Of course."
She stepped in, lowering her voice. "There's… someone asking about you outside. I don't know why, but they wouldn't give their name. Just said it was important."
My stomach dropped. I forced a calm expression. "I'll be fine." But my heart was hammering, and every instinct screamed that danger was closer than I'd allowed myself to admit.
I left the office under the guise of taking a short break, though every step toward the street felt like walking into a trap. The city seemed sharper, louder, more threatening than usual. Shadows clung to corners, and every passerby could have been more than they seemed.
Then I saw him. Adrian. Standing at the edge of the plaza, perfectly still, as if he had been waiting for me all along. His eyes locked on mine for just a moment longer than necessary, and a shiver ran down my spine. I turned quickly, pretending to check my phone, but I knew he had seen me. He always saw me.
I walked faster, weaving through the crowd, my senses alert to every sound, every movement. And yet, even as I disappeared down an alley to avoid him, I knew it wouldn't matter. He didn't need to follow; he had already found a way to be everywhere I might be, a silent presence tethered to my steps.
The rest of the day passed in a blur of paperwork and nervous glances toward the window. Every call, every email, every visitor felt like a potential threat. By the time evening came, exhaustion weighed on me more than usual. I left the office quickly, my mind spinning with possibilities.
As I approached the subway entrance, the hairs on the back of my neck stood up. A shadow moved just behind me, silent, measured. I didn't look back. I didn't need to. I knew.
"Elena."
His voice was soft, almost casual, yet it carried the same unmistakable authority that had unsettled me from the start. I quickened my pace, trying to disappear into the crowd, but every instinct told me he already knew my path, my escape, my next move.
The train roared into the station, doors sliding open. I slipped inside, pressed against the wall, hoping for anonymity, hoping the crowd would shield me. But when I looked through the glass as the train pulled away, I saw him standing on the platform, motionless, watching. Not angry, not smiling, just observing, a shadow among the lights, an enigma I couldn't ignore.
And in that moment, I realized something chilling: Adrian was not just a man I had seen on the street. He was the embodiment of the danger that surrounded the case, the silent variable I couldn't predict, and the reminder that every step I took was no longer solely my own.
The city moved around me, oblivious to the tension, to the threat. But I couldn't move past it, couldn't escape the truth: the man in the coat was no stranger. He was part of the story I was forced to untangle, and the more I tried to focus on work, the more I understood that nothing in my life would ever feel ordinary again.