At 6:59 a.m., cynthia stumbled into the sleek corridors of Voss art and medial
The office was empty — too early even for gossip.
When she reached Alexander's door, she froze.
It was slightly open.
She knocked softly. "Sir?"
No answer.
Inside, his office looked… different.
The curtains were drawn, and the scent of his cologne lingered.
A sleek black laptop sat open on the desk, displaying a flickering file titled:
V-01 Confidential.
Cynthia glanced toward the hallway. Empty.
Just a quick peek, she told herself. Just one click.
The screen showed folders labeled Phase One, Phase Two, and Containment.
But before she could open one, the image distorted.
The cursor moved—
On its own.
Her breath caught.
Words began typing across the screen:
"You shouldn't have opened that."
She stumbled backward.
The laptop beeped once, then the entire screen went black.
Cynthia stared, frozen. "Okay. Nope. Nope. I'm dreaming."
She pressed random keys. Nothing.
Then her phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
She hesitated, thumb trembling, then opened the message.
"Careful miss brooks and face your business"
The door opened behind her.
She jumped so hard she nearly threw her phone.
Alexander stood there, expression unreadable.
His eyes flicked from her to the black laptop screen.
"What are you doing here so early?" he asked.
She stammered, "I—I was just cleaning—no, not cleaning, I mean—early enthusiasm?"
He raised an eyebrow, then walked to his desk.
When he noticed the dark screen, his jaw tightened—only slightly, but she saw it.
"Who touched this?"
"I—uh—I might have leaned too close?"
For a long moment, he said nothing. Then, without looking at her,
"Next time curiosity strikes, resist it. It's a dangerous habit."
Cynthia nodded, swallowing hard. "Yes, sir. I'll delete the curiosity app immediately."
He gave her a sharp look, but something in his expression softened — amusement? Maybe.
"Get some coffee," he said finally. "You look half alive."
She left his office, clutching her phone like a weapon.
But when she checked her messages again… the texts were gone.
No number. No history.
Just a blank screen.
Cynthia pressed her back against the hallway wall, breathing hard.
This wasn't normal.
Something about Voss Art and medial was wrong.
And whatever that file had contained —
someone out there wanted it badly enough to scare her into silence.
She wasn't sure what terrified her more:
the mysterious warning…
or the growing suspicion that Alexander already knew.