I didn't respond immediately.
Not to the message.
Not to him.
"Stop asking him."
"He won't tell you the truth."
The words sat heavily on my screen, sharp and deliberate. Whoever was sending them wasn't guessing. They knew what I was doing. What I was asking.
Which meant one thing.
I wasn't the only one watching.
Slowly, I locked my phone and slipped it back into my pocket.
Not because I was done.
But because I couldn't afford to show hesitation.
When I looked up again, Adrian Cole was still watching me.
His gaze dropped briefly to my hand.
Then back to my face.
"You get distracted easily," he said.
Not accusing.
Not curious.
Observing.
"Only when something is worth paying attention to," I replied.
A risk.
But I wasn't playing safe anymore.
A faint pause followed.
Then—
Something shifted.
Not in the room.
In him.
"Was it worth it?" he asked.
My chest tightened slightly.
He wasn't asking about the message.
He was asking about the file.
"I don't know yet," I said.
That was the closest thing to truth I could give.
Silence stretched between us again.
But this time, it felt different.
Less like control.
More like calculation.
"You're trying to decide who to trust," he said.
The words landed too precisely.
I didn't respond.
Because denying it would be pointless.
"And you think there's a right answer," he continued.
A step closer.
"There isn't."
That wasn't comfort.
That was a warning.
"Then why bring me here?" I asked.
The question came out sharper than before.
More direct.
"If everything is dangerous… if nothing is clear…" I added,
"…then why involve me at all?"
For a moment—
He didn't answer.
Then he did something unexpected.
He sat down.
Not across from me.
Not far away.
Closer.
Close enough to shift the space between us again.
"You assume you weren't already involved," he said.
My stomach tightened.
"That message you received," he continued.
"Do you really think it was sent by mistake?"
My pulse picked up instantly.
I hadn't told him about the message.
Not fully.
Not clearly.
Yet somehow—
He knew enough.
"That depends," I said carefully.
His gaze held mine.
"On whether you believe in coincidence."
I didn't answer.
Because I didn't.
Not anymore.
"Your sister didn't just disappear," he continued.
My chest tightened.
"She moved," he said.
A pause.
"Into something she thought she understood."
The words felt controlled.
Measured.
Like he was choosing exactly how much to reveal.
"And did she?" I asked.
Silence.
Then—
A faint exhale.
"Not completely."
That wasn't relief.
That was worse.
Before I could ask anything else—
My phone vibrated again.
Sharp.
Persistent.
I didn't want to check it.
But I did.
Another message.
"He's lying."
My breath slowed.
Another one came in immediately.
"Ask him about the contract."
My fingers tightened slightly around the phone.
Contract?
I hadn't seen that word anywhere.
Not in the files.
Not in the messages before.
Which meant—
This was new.
Deliberate.
I lifted my gaze slowly.
Back to Adrian Cole.
And for the first time—
I made a decision.
I wasn't going to play safe anymore.
"What contract?" I asked.
The reaction was small.
Almost invisible.
But I saw it.
A pause.
Not long.
But enough.
Enough to confirm something.
That word mattered.
"Who told you that?" he asked.
Not denying.
Not questioning the meaning.
Questioning the source.
That told me everything.
"I'm asking you," I said.
Silence.
Then—
He stood up.
Slow.
Controlled.
"You're moving faster than you should," he said.
That wasn't an answer.
"That's not what I asked," I replied.
This time, my voice didn't soften.
Didn't adjust.
I held the line.
For a moment—
The tension between us sharpened.
Not loud.
Not explosive.
But clear.
Then—
He stepped closer again.
Close enough that I couldn't ignore the shift in his presence.
"If you keep asking the wrong questions," he said quietly,
"…you're going to get answers you're not ready for."
A chill ran through me.
Too late.
I was already there.
My phone vibrated again.
But this time—
I didn't check it.
Because I already knew something.
The unknown sender wasn't just watching.
They were guiding me.
And Adrian Cole—
He wasn't just hiding the truth.
He was controlling when I found it.
And that meant one thing.
I wasn't choosing sides anymore.
I was being pulled between them.