Chapter 1 - At 3:07 a.m., Marcus Reed was the only employee left inside the office.The building had been empty for nearly three hours.
Every desk on the thirty-second floor sat beneath the pale glow of dormant monitors. The cleaning crew had left at midnight. The security guards were supposed to make another round at four. Outside, rain crawled down the enormous windows, turning the city into a blur of distorted headlights and wet streets.
Marcus had never liked working this late.
But tonight was different.
He had spent the last two weeks secretly copying financial records from a restricted company server. He wasn't stealing money. He wasn't planning to sell anything.
He was trying to prove that someone inside the company was laundering millions of dollars through accounts that technically did not exist.
And every trail he followed led back to the same person.
Mr. Harris.
Marcus had worked for him for six years.
Thomas Harris was the company's chief financial officer, a severe man in his fifties who wore black suits, polished shoes, and an old silver watch every single day.
Marcus knew the watch well.
He had seen it countless times during meetings.
So when a familiar voice suddenly came from behind him, every muscle in his body locked.
"What are you doing here?"
Marcus stopped typing.
His fingers remained suspended above the keyboard.
He didn't breathe.
Slowly, painfully slowly, he turned around.
Mr. Harris stood near the glass conference room.
Half of his body was swallowed by darkness.
Black suit.
White shirt.
Silver watch.
Exactly as Marcus had seen him that morning.
But something was wrong.
The office temperature suddenly felt like winter.
Marcus swallowed.
"I was about to ask you the same thing."
Harris stared at him.
His expression was unreadable.
"You shouldn't be here."
Marcus almost laughed.
"Neither should you."
Harris took one step forward.
Marcus stood.
"Mr. Harris..."
The man stopped.
For several seconds, neither spoke.
Then Marcus noticed something.
There was a dark stain beneath Harris's collar.
A reddish-black patch.
Blood.
Marcus's stomach tightened.
"You've been hurt."
Harris glanced down at his shirt.
For the first time, his expression changed.
Fear.
"Marcus," he whispered, "listen carefully."
A monitor beside Marcus suddenly flickered.
The security system opened by itself.
Marcus turned.
The timestamp read:
TWO DAYS AGO.
He frowned.
The footage showed the main entrance.
Police vehicles surrounded the building.
Officers rushed through the lobby.
An ambulance stood outside.
Then two paramedics appeared carrying a stretcher.
A body covered by a white sheet was wheeled toward the exit.
Marcus leaned closer.
"What..."
The camera zoomed slightly.
A hand slipped from beneath the sheet.
Marcus recognized the silver watch.
His heart stopped.
He clicked backward.
The sheet shifted as the stretcher passed beneath the lobby lights.
The face became visible for barely a second.
Marcus stared.
It was Thomas Harris.
Dead.
His body was carried out of the building two nights earlier.
Marcus slowly turned around.
Harris was gone.
The conference room was empty.
"Mr. Harris?"
No answer.
Marcus walked toward the hallway.
Nothing.
He ran to the elevators.
Every door was closed.
He checked the stairwell.
Empty.
He returned to his desk.
His laptop screen was glowing.
The document he had been working on was gone.
A blank black screen filled the monitor.
Then letters began appearing.
One by one.
Without anyone touching the keyboard.
YOU SHOULDN'T HAVE COME HERE TONIGHT.
Marcus stepped backward.
"No."
Another sentence appeared.
THEY KNOW YOU FOUND IT.
Marcus stared.
His phone buzzed.
A text message appeared from an unknown number.
STOP LOOKING.
He didn't move.
Another message arrived.
HE CANNOT PROTECT YOU ANYMORE.
Marcus looked toward the security monitor.
The hallway camera showed nothing.
Then something moved.
At the far end of the corridor.
A silhouette.
Marcus's breath caught.
The figure disappeared.
Then came three slow knocks.
Knock.
Silence.
Knock.
Silence.
Knock.
Marcus looked at the door to the executive office.
It was locked.
He hadn't given anyone access.
He reached for the handle.
His hand trembled.
"Who's there?"
Nothing.
He leaned closer.
And then a voice whispered from the other side.
A voice he knew better than anyone.
Harris.
"Marcus."
Marcus jumped away.
"Open the door."
Marcus stared at the lock.
"You died."
Silence.
Then:
"No."
A pause.
"You only think I did."
The handle slowly began turning by itself.
May you like
Marcus backed away.
And just before the door opened, every light on the floor went out.
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