Lydia west had only been working at vos art and media Industries for three days, but she already felt something strange pulsing beneath the shiny floors and quiet hallways. The company looked perfect on the outside — glass walls, expensive suits, polite smiles — but there was a tension in the air she couldn't explain.
She wasn't Cynthia.
She didn't want to be Cynthia.
But everyone had warned her: Alexander blackwood is cold. Don't take it personal.
Except she hadn't found him cold.
Just… distant. Distracted.
On her first morning, she'd caught him staring at a window like he expected someone to appear on the other side of the glass. When she asked if he was okay, he'd simply said, "Don't worry about me, Miss west. Just do your job."
So she did. Or tried.
But the weirdness wouldn't stop.
The office felt watched.
The security cameras faced odd directions.
And most strangely — the previous assistant, Cynthia — everyone whispered about her like she had touched something forbidden.
Lydia was determined not to fall into the same trap.
Today, she stayed late. Alexander had left hours ago, telling her, "Finish the reports and lock up."
She was reorganizing his cabinet when she noticed something odd.
A folder was slightly out of place.
Not messy — just… wrong. Too loose.
Lydia frowned. She hadn't touched this drawer yet.
She pulled the folder out.
Behind it — barely visible — was a tiny black object wedged into the wooden groove. At first, she thought it was a pen or a spare key. But when she gently tugged it free, a chill ran through her spine.
A flash drive.
Unlabeled.
Old.
Matte black.
The kind of thing used to hide something, not store normal files.
She turned it around in her hand. It wasn't dusty. Someone had put it there recently.
Her heartbeat quickened.
Is this why Cynthia left?
She swallowed hard and forced herself to breathe. Maybe it was harmless. Maybe it belonged to Alexander. Maybe—
The lights flickered.
Just once.
Barely a second.
But enough to make Lydia freeze.
Her mind raced back to all the rumors she'd overheard… the strange phone calls Alexander avoided… the way he stiffened whenever someone mentioned "security issues."
Something was wrong in this office.
And she was now holding a piece of it.
Lydia slipped the flash drive into her pocket quickly, telling herself she was being responsible. She would ask Alexander tomorrow. She would pretend she found it while cleaning. She would—
A soft clicking sound made her spin around.
The office door had opened.
But no one was there.
Her breath caught. She stepped backward slowly, scanning every corner.
"Hello?" she whispered.
Silence.
The air felt heavier, almost pressurized, like the room itself was holding its breath.
Lydia forced a nervous laugh. "I'm tired. That's all."
She grabbed her bag and turned off the office lights, locking the door behind her. Her footsteps echoed down the hallway as she hurried toward the elevator.
But she didn't see the shadow at the far end of the corridor.
Or the faint glow of a phone screen.
Or the way someone whispered into it, low and sharp:
"Wrong girl. She found it."
Lydia should've gone straight home.
She kept replaying that thought as she walked across the dimly lit parking lot later that night. It wasn't that late — barely past nine — but the company grounds felt too quiet, too deserted.
The flash drive weighed heavily in her pocket, like a secret she had no business touching.
She pressed the key fob to unlock her small blue car, the clicking sound echoing louder than it should.
I'll give it to Mr. Blackwood tomorrow, she told herself.
I'll explain everything. I didn't do anything wrong.
But then a darker thought crept in.
What if the drive wasn't supposed to be found at all?
She shook her head quickly. No. She was jumping to conclusions. She was tired from the long day, the late shift, the emotional stress of learning a new job. Everything would make sense tomorrow.
Her phone buzzed.
A message from her cousin:
— Home yet?
She typed back:
— Almost. Just leaving the office.
Then she heard footsteps.
Behind her.
Slow.
Heavy.
Deliberate.
Lydia's spine stiffened. She turned — a quick glance — but saw only darkness. Dim street lamps flickered above the empty parking lot.
She wasn't the type to scare easily. But something about tonight felt wrong.
She quickened her pace.
The footsteps quickened too.
"Excuse me," a voice called.
A man's voice. Deep. Unfamiliar.
Lydia clutched her bag tighter, not turning around. "Sorry, in a hurry!",the voice said
"Miss brooks, wait."the voice said again
She froze.
Miss brooks?
She wasn't Cynthia.
She wasn't anyone named brooks.
Her breath caught as realization slammed into her.
"Um—you've got the wrong person," she said shakily, finally turning.
Three men stepped out of the shadows.
Not wearing masks.
Dressed in plain dark clothing.
Not trying to look dangerous — which somehow made them more terrifying.
One of them tilted his head. "You work for Alexander, don't you?"
Lydia nodded slowly, heart thudding. "Yes, but—"
"That's enough."
Two steps.
Two men behind her.
One in front.
She reached for her phone.
The front man grabbed her wrist. "No calls."
She stumbled backward, panic rising. "Please, I didn't do anything—"
Her blood ran cold.
They knew.
They knew she found it.
And they thought she was Cynthia — the assistant they had been after.
"Listen," Lydia whispered, voice trembling, "I'm not—"
"I said that's enough," the man repeated.
He wasn't yelling.
He wasn't angry.
He was calm.
Too calm.
That was the worst part.
A van rolled up behind her — silent, smooth, as if it had been waiting.
Lydia's breath came in quick bursts. "Please—please don't—"
"No one wants to hurt you," the man said. "We just need information."
Hands grabbed her arms. She twisted, kicked, fought — but the grip only tightened.
Her pulse rushed in her ears.
The parking lot spun.
"Let me go!" she cried.
"Stop fighting," one of them muttered. "We don't want to drag you."
But she kept struggling anyway, driven purely by fear.
The back of the van opened.
A cloth bag slipped over her head.
Darkness swallowed everything.
Her last thought before she was shoved inside was not of the flash drive or the office or even her mistake.
It was of Alexander.
What did he get me into?, lydia said In her mind