Dorian
There are two types of new hires: the overeager ones who think enthusiasm will cover incompetence, and the quiet ones who hope no one notices they have no idea what they're doing.
Rowan Arden was neither.
He walked into my office like he wasn't sure if he belonged here or was about to be arrested.
I told him to sit. He did.
He tried to control his breathing, but his posture was all wrong and stiff for someone who should be confident in his resume.
I didn't call it out. Not yet.
"Survived your first morning," I said, keeping my tone unreadable.
He grinned—crooked, unsure, a little too casual.
"Barely," he said.
Honest. Strange.
Most interns would fall over themselves trying to impress me. Instead, he looked like he was trying to make it through the next five minutes without passing out.
That… was refreshing.
"You're not like the others," I said.
His eyebrows twitched. "Is that… good or bad?"
"That remains to be seen."
He chuckled softly, then looked down at his hands. Fidgety. Odd for someone claiming to be focused on cybersecurity.
I studied him.
Something felt off. Not wrong. Just...mismatched. Like a puzzle piece that looked like it fit until you pressed too hard.
I wasn't alarmed. Yet. People lie to themselves all the time in this building. Sometimes that's how they survive.
Still, something about him—about Rowan Arden—made me pause longer than I usually did.
His voice was slightly too careful. His smile a beat too late. His posture changed depending on how close I stood.
Anxious? Possibly.
Or maybe he was just intimidated. Most people were.
I kept the conversation brief. I didn't want to scare him off—not on day one. But I watched the way he shifted in his seat when I walked behind him. The way his breath hitched when our eyes met.
Like he was always one step away from running.
When he left, I found myself still staring at the door.
Why did I feel like I'd just met a riddle?
—
Later that day, I passed by the DevOps floor.
I rarely came down here. That's what middle management was for. But today, I wanted a look at the new hire. Without the barrier of my office.
He didn't notice me at first.
He was leaning over a laptop, one hand on the mouse, the other holding the edge of the desk like it might run away from him.
"Wrong click, Arden," Priya said from across the table. "That's the test server."
"I knew that," he said quickly, covering the screen with his hand.
"Sure you did," she muttered, barely hiding her smirk.
He laughed awkwardly and reached for his mug. It read First Day Freakout in obnoxious red font.
Wes leaned over. "You okay, man?"
"Oh yeah. Just internalizing failure quietly," he muttered. "Totally normal Tuesday."
I didn't mean to smile, but I did.
There was something undeniably entertaining about him. He didn't have the stiff posture of a career climber. He didn't try to blend in, either. He stood out without meaning to.
And that unsettled me more than I liked.
I walked away before he noticed me watching.
—
That night, I found myself standing in front of the mirrored wall in my private office, holding the resume Rowan Arden had submitted.
Nothing was out of place.
B.S. in Cybersecurity. Freelance bug bounty work. A promising project on blockchain security. Modest GPA, high rec letters.
All of it checked out.
But still… there was something there. A sliver of something.
A gut feeling.
I don't trust gut feelings. They're dangerous for someone in my position. Instinct must be tested, not obeyed blindly.
I leaned against the window, eyes scanning the skyline.
If I had to put it into words: Rowan Arden didn't feel like someone trying to hide a lie.
He felt like someone trying to hold together a very complicated truth.
I told myself to forget it.
One intern. One odd posture. One unusually flustered smile.
No reason to dig.
Still… I couldn't shake the image of his hands slightly trembling when I got too close.
—
At 11:42 p.m., I poured myself a drink in the corner of my office. Bourbon. No ice.
It's tasteless ,like all foods and drinks tasted . I didn't drink often, but tonight something kept buzzing in the back of my mind.
"Rowan Arden," I muttered again, letting the name roll over my tongue.
I turned to the small tablet beside my desk and pulled up employee entry logs. Just a habit. I liked to know who stayed late, who came early. Patterns told you who would rise. And who would fall.
Arden clocked out at 6:07 p.m.
Nothing unusual.
But he'd signed in that morning at 8:59 a.m. on the dot.
Perfect timing. Precise.
People trying to make an impression were rarely late.
But they were rarely that… perfect either.
I shut off the screen.
I was reading too much into it.
Still—
A knock.
I turned.
The door creaked open, and one of the janitorial staff peeked in. "Mr. Vale, sorry. Didn't realize you were still in."
I waved a hand. "Go ahead."
She nodded and wheeled in her supplies.
As she moved to the windows, she paused. "Oh. You had someone in here today, right? An intern?"
I looked over. "Why?"
"Cute kid," she said with a shrug. "Reminded me of my niece. All nerves and caffeine."
My eyes narrowed just slightly. "Your niece?"
She chuckled. "Just an expression. Though I guess with the long lashes and high cheekbones…"
She kept wiping the windows.
I didn't move.
Not until she left the room.
And even then, I stood still for a long time, bourbon untouched.
Something about that comment sat heavy in my chest.
Not suspicion. Not certainty.
Just a flicker of doubt.
I didn't have evidence. I didn't even have a theory.
But I did have a memory.
The look in Rowan's eyes when I got too close.
Fear. Not of me. Not of being wrong.
But of being seen.