Chapter 3 (Adrian) He ignores her warning

I don’t take warnings from strangers. That’s the first thing I say the moment I step into my office. I don’t sit immediately. I don’t relax. I just stand there, replaying the conversation in my head like I’m trying to prove something to myself. You’re about to make a mistake. Her voice again. Calm. Certain. Unshaken. I exhale slowly, irritated. She doesn’t know anything. I say it out loud this time. Because that’s the truth. It has to be. Daniel closes the door behind me. You’ve said that three times already. I glance at him. And I’ll say it again if I need to. That won’t make it more convincing. I ignore that.

Instead, I walk toward my desk, finally sitting down, trying to reset my focus. Work. That’s what matters. Numbers make sense. Deals make sense. Outcomes can be controlled. People like her? They don’t. She got your attention. Daniel’s voice is steady, observational, like he’s stating a fact, not asking a question. She interrupted my day, I reply. That’s all. That’s not all. I look at him again, sharper this time. You’re reading too much into it. Am I? Yes. There’s a brief pause. Then he says, then forget about her. I lean back slightly. That’s exactly what I’m doing. But even as I say it, I know it’s not entirely true. Because I haven’t moved on. Not completely. Something about her doesn’t fit neatly into the category of irrelevant. And that bothers me. You didn’t answer her, Daniel continues. There was nothing to answer. She warned you. She made a vague statement with no proof. You didn’t ask for proof. I don’t chase meaningless claims.

Daniel tilts his head slightly. You’re still thinking about it. I let out a short breath. I’m thinking about why someone would walk into my building, ignore security, and speak like they know something they shouldn’t. That sounds interesting. That sounds like caution. He studies me for a moment. Then says, Caution usually comes with action. I don’t respond immediately. Because he’s right. And I don’t like when he’s right. Fine, I say finally. I’ll take action. That gets his attention. What kind? The kind that ends questions before they become problems. I sit up properly now, my focus sharpening. She walked in here like she had nothing to lose, I continue. That’s not normal. No, it’s not. And she spoke like she knew something specific. Yes. So either she’s guessing, or she actually knows something.

Daniel nods slightly. And you don’t like either option. I don’t accept either option. That’s the difference. I don’t sit around wondering which one is true. I find out. That means you want me to look into her, Daniel says. I don’t answer immediately. Because this is the point where I decide whether she matters or not. Whether she’s just a distraction or something worth my time. I think about the way she stood there. The way she didn’t try to impress me. The way she didn’t hesitate. The way she said my mistake was already in motion. That kind of confidence doesn’t come from nowhere. She said her name. Daniel adds. Alina. I nod once. I remember. Of course I do. That makes it easier, he says. We can start there. I lean forward slightly, resting my hands together. Start with basic identification, I say. Full name, background, connections. Daniel nods. Understood. And I want everything verified. Of course. No assumptions. No gaps. No missing details. If she exists in any system, I’ll find her. And Daniel, He pauses. There’s something else, I say. What is it? I hesitate. Just briefly. Because I don’t like saying this part out loud. She didn’t act like this was her first time seeing me.

Daniel’s expression shifts slightly. No surprise, interest. What do you mean? I mean, I say slowly, she looked at me like she already understood something about me. That could be confidence. It could be something else. Like what? I don’t answer immediately. Because I don’t have a clear answer. Just a feeling. And I don’t trust feelings. But I don’t ignore them either. Like familiarity, I say finally. Daniel considers that. Do you think you’ve met her before? No. That answer comes too quickly. Too certain. Because I know I haven’t. I would remember. I don’t forget faces, I add. I know. Especially not one like hers. That slips out before I can stop it.

Daniel notices. Of course, he does. So, she stood out. That’s not the point. It might be. I shake my head slightly. Focus on the facts. I am. Then stick to them. He doesn’t argue, but I can tell he’s still analyzing. That’s fine. That’s what I pay him for. There’s one more thing, I say. Yes? She mentioned trust. Daniel waits. She said I’m about to trust the wrong people. That’s specific. Not specific enough. But enough to raise concern. It raises questions, I correct. Concern comes after answers. Daniel nods. So we find out what she meant. Yes. And whether it has any truth to it. Exactly. Silence settles for a moment. Then Daniel asks, Do you think she’s a threat? I think about that. She's calm. Her control. Her lack of fear. No, I say finally. Not directly. And indirectly? I lean back again. That depends on what she knows. And what she wants. Yes. Daniel nods slowly. I’ll start immediately. Good.

He turns slightly, ready to leave. Daniel. He stops again. Don’t underestimate her. That’s not something I say often. But it feels necessary. I won’t, he replies. And don’t make assumptions. I never do. Make sure of it. I will. He moves toward the door. But before he opens it, he pauses one last time. You’re not ignoring her warning. It’s not a question. I don’t respond right away. Because technically, he’s right. I didn’t dismiss it. I challenged it. Which means part of me took it seriously. I’m verifying it, I say finally. That’s different. Is it? Yes. I let out a quiet breath. Then we’ll see if it’s worth verifying. Daniel gives a slight nod. Then he leaves. The door closes behind him. And for a moment, everything is quiet again. I lean back in my chair, staring at nothing in particular. My office feels the same. Controlled. Ordered. Predictable. But my mind doesn’t. It keeps circling back. To her. The way she spoke was like she already knew the outcome of something I hadn’t even considered yet. You’re about to make a mistake.

I tap my fingers lightly against the desk. That’s not how this works, I say under my breath. Mistakes don’t happen to me. Not like that. Not without warning. And definitely not without me seeing them coming. But she said it like it’s already in motion. Like I’m already part of something I don’t understand yet. That’s what bothers me. Not the warning itself. But the certainty behind it. I stand up again, walking toward the window. The city stretches out in front of me. Everything moving. Everything shifting. But from here, it all looks controlled. That’s the illusion. Control isn’t about stopping movement. It’s about understanding it. Anticipating it. Staying ahead of it. And right now, there’s something I don’t understand. That changes today. I turn away from the window. My decision is already made. This isn’t about curiosity anymore. It’s about clarity. And I don’t leave things unclear. I walk back to my desk, my voice steady when I speak again, even though no one is in the room. Find out everything about her, including what she’s hiding.