Relief rushed through me, hot and sudden, but it was quickly choked by the weight of the woman’s hand on my arm.
She was still pale, a thin veil of consciousness draped over her features. “Sebastian…?” she whispered, eyes unfocused.
My name seemed to echo in the sterile air, and I swallowed the knot in my throat. “It’s… it’s okay, you’re safe now.”
She blinked, a flicker of memory surfacing, and then her gaze hardened. “You saved me. I need to see you… before I leave town.”
The words hung between us, heavy with an urgency I didn’t understand.
I glanced at the clock; the hospital hallway smelled of antiseptic and disinfectant, the hum of machines a reminder of how fragile life could be.
“What’s your name?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.
She smiled, a ghost of a grin. “Maya. Maya Alvarez.”
My mind raced—Nick’s stare, the whispered threat of lawsuits, the shattered pitch. I could feel the office walls closing in, the weight of the agency’s logo on my bag still fresh from the security guard’s mutter.
“I can’t… I have to think,” I muttered, the fear of retaliation tightening around my chest.
She squeezed my hand, a brief, firm pressure. “Meet me at the Corner Roast, 2 p.m. Tomorrow. You’ll understand why.”
The request was a lifeline and a trap.
That night, I stared at my laptop bag, the agency’s insignia still visible. I knew I was stepping into something that could either save or ruin me.
Morning came with rain tapping against the window, and I found myself heading downtown, heart hammering like a drum.
Coffee, Secrets, and a New Threat
The Corner Roast smelled of fresh beans and cinnamon, a soft jazz melody humming in the background.
Maya was already there, perched on a high stool, her dark hair pulled back, a hint of a scar visible on her forearm.
When I slid into the seat opposite her, she lifted her cup, eyes locking onto mine. “You look like you’ve been through a war,” she said, voice low.
I forced a laugh. “Just a… long day at the office.”
She took a measured sip, then leaned forward. “I’m not here to thank you for the CPR.”
“Then why…?” I asked, the question hanging in the air like a question mark.
She placed her cup down, the clink echoing. “I was sent by my company to sabotage your pitch. They believed a sudden health crisis would distract you, make you look weak.”
My stomach dropped. “You’re saying the heart attack… was intentional?”
She nodded, eyes fierce. “They wanted to see if you’d crumble. Instead, you saved a life. That’s the test they failed.”
“And now?” I asked, feeling the tension tighten around my ribcage.
She smiled, a dangerous curve. “I can offer you a partnership. My firm is looking for someone with your… integrity. We can take down Nick, expose his methods, and rebuild your career on your own terms.”
A surge of hope flickered, but before I could answer, the door swung open.
Two men in sharp, charcoal suits entered, their shoes clicking on the polished floor.
