The city’s skyline blurred behind the pale curtain of morning mist. A cold breeze swept across the bridge, tugging at the long coat of the woman who stood still as stone, her gaze fixed somewhere far beyond the water below.

She didn’t belong there—not because of how she looked, but because of the calm control she wore like armor. In a place meant for broken thoughts and wavering souls, she stood like a shadow with purpose.

A figure nearby caught her attention. A man sat on the edge of the railing, shoulders hunched, fingers curled over the metal as if it was the only thing anchoring him. His coat was wrinkled and damp at the hem, the collar turned up carelessly. His eyes, distant and unfocused, didn’t notice her at first.

She took a slow step forward, heels tapping against the pavement.

“I don’t usually talk to strangers,” she said, her voice smooth and even, “but something about the way you’re sitting there—it almost begs for interruption.”

He turned his head slightly, expression unreadable. “You a cop? Therapist? Samaritan?”

“No,” she replied simply. “Just a passerby who’s good at spotting theatrics.”

That made him chuckle dryly, but there was no humor in it. “Is that what this looks like to you?”

“It looks like a man dangling at the edge of something,” she said, glancing at the river below. “But if you were really planning to jump, you wouldn’t wait for an audience.”

He raised a brow, staring at her now. “You read people like books?”

“Not always. But I know a story that’s still unfinished when I see one.”

The man said nothing. He looked away again, jaw tightening. Silence stretched between them, filled with the wind and distant hum of the city.

“You talk like you know things,” he muttered after a moment.

“I know enough to recognize someone trying to disappear in plain sight,” she said. “That watch on your wrist—it’s a luxury model, limited edition. The scuff marks on your shoes are fresh, not worn. You weren’t always like this. Whatever happened was recent.”

“Observant,” he said quietly.

“I have to be,” she replied.

A pause. Then, almost as an afterthought, she added, “I’m on my way to a company... AURY Organization.”

His head shifted slightly, but he masked his reaction quickly. Too quickly.

She caught it. And yet, she didn’t press further.

“I’ve got an appointment,” she said, adjusting the strap of her bag. “Time doesn’t wait, and neither do I.”

The man looked at her again, as if trying to place her. As if her face stirred something buried under regret and exhaustion.

But she just turned away.

“Take care of yourself,” she said over her shoulder. “Or don’t. That part’s still your choice.”

And with that, she walked off, heels clicking with measured rhythm. She didn’t glance back once.

The man remained on the bridge, still staring at where she’d stood, eyes darker now—more alert.

She didn’t tell him why she was heading to AURY.

And she wouldn’t.

Not yet.

The wind had calmed, but the bridge still whispered with the residue of unspoken words. Tim Aury sat on the cold metal railing a moment longer, the woman’s voice echoing in his mind.

"You wouldn’t wait for an audience."

He exhaled sharply, the cold air biting at his lungs as if reminding him — life hadn’t slipped away just yet.

Not today.

Reluctantly, he pushed himself up and walked away from the edge, not toward salvation, but responsibility. His company — AURY — needed him, even if he wasn't sure why anymore.

Meanwhile, several blocks away, the woman — Amane — walked with purpose, her eyes scanning the high-rises ahead like a queen observing a city built too small for her throne.

"AURY… let’s see what this place is capable of."

She wasn’t here for a job. Not really. She didn’t need one. In fact, if the world knew her real name, the very foundation of AURY would tremble. But today, she played a role — just a curious applicant with calm confidence and something hidden beneath her smile.

The building stood like a glass toothpick among skyscrapers — clean, efficient, but modest. A far cry from the empires she had built, shaped, and swallowed whole.

Still, it had potential.

She stepped inside. The lobby was minimalistic, tidy, modern. Workers passed with folders in hand, murmuring into headsets. No one noticed her presence until she walked up to the front desk.

The receptionist looked up, blinking as if momentarily disarmed.

"Can I help you, miss?"

Amane’s voice was smooth. Controlled.

"I have an appointment with your CEO. Regarding the secretary position."

The woman nodded, checking her screen before gesturing toward the lounge. “Yes, of course. Please wait a moment while I notify Mr. Aury.”

Amane sat, legs crossed, fingers tapping her phone — not idly, but purposefully. She wasn’t nervous. She was calculating.

Upstairs – CEO Office

Tim sat behind his desk, hair still slightly tousled from the morning wind. The receptionist's voice came through the intercom.

“Sir, a Miss Amane is here for the secretary interview.”

Tim paused. A flicker of confusion crossed his face. That name again.

The woman from the bridge?

He stood and walked toward the window, gazing down at the street as if expecting her to vanish.

A knock.

“She’s here,” his assistant said.

“Send her in.”

Inside the Office

The door opened, and Amane stepped in, looking utterly composed in a sleek black coat. The tension was immediate. Not spoken. Not visible. But palpable.

"You," he said quietly, unable to hide his surprise.

"You look different when you’re not sitting on a railing," she replied with a small smile.

Tim gestured to the chair. “Let’s begin.”

He tried to remain professional, but unease crept in. She didn’t fidget. She didn’t blink too much. She didn’t sell herself with desperation like most applicants.

In fact, she spoke little.

But everything she did say was sharp — tailored to the kind of man Tim was. She picked her words with the precision of a surgeon, weaving answers that were both impressive and vague. She knew enough about AURY to flatter it, but not too much to seem rehearsed.

By the end of the conversation, she had said almost nothing — and convinced him of everything.

Tim leaned back. “You’re hired.”

She nodded with a graceful, “Thank you,” then left with the same calm aura she arrived with.

The second the door closed, Tim picked up the intercom.

“Ruby. My office."

Moments Later – Ruby’s Entrance

Ruby, 25, blonde, striking — the kind of woman who could silence a room without a word — entered with her usual confident stride.

“You called, sir?”

“I need you to run a background check. New hire. Name’s Amane. No surname.”

Ruby raised an eyebrow. “That’s it?”

“That’s all she gave.”

Ruby smirked. “I’ll find her.”

Scene Shift – Amane’s Inner Thoughts

Downstairs, Amane stood by the elevator, lips curling faintly.

"Of course he’s suspicious. That’s good though , let's keep things spiced up a bit."

Later That Day – CEO Office

Tim sat at his desk again, staring at a printed task sheet. He had assigned Amane a few mundane tasks just to test her adaptability. She completed them with quiet efficiency.

Professional.

Too professional.

Just as he reached for his coffee, Ruby returned, her expression tight.

“You find anything?” he asked.

Ruby shook her head. “Nothing. No school records. No prior work history. No ID matches. It’s like she doesn’t exist.”

Tim’s brow furrowed, the cup halfway to his lips.

A long silence.

Then he muttered under his breath — almost to himself:

"Just who is this woman?"

The skyline outside Aruba Industry's headquarters was painted in orange hues as the sun began its descent. The tall glass-paneled tower stood like a beacon of power in the heart of the city. On the top floor, behind a set of sleek mahogany double doors, a meeting was underway.

Inside the executive suite, a broad window overlooked the sprawling city below. The office was spacious—adorned with expensive furnishings, modern art, and the faint scent of cologne and polished wood. At the center of the room sat Stord Elen, CEO of Aruba Industry, a man in his early 30s with sharp features, thick dark hair combed immaculately, and a calculating gaze that never lingered anywhere without purpose.

Seated across from him were his trusted staff members—men in tailored suits who smiled too easily and nodded too quickly. Their loyalty came with conditions, though none would dare admit it aloud. Alongside them sat another man, a presence that stood apart from the rest: a well-groomed CEO of another powerful conglomerate. He wore a deep navy-blue royal-cut suit, a silver tie pin catching the light. His face was striking—handsome, composed—but his eyes gave nothing away. His identity, for now, remained unrevealed.

Stord leaned back in his leather chair, fingers steepled in front of his face.

“AURY is vulnerable,” he began, voice low and deliberate. “Their quarterly losses have begun to stack, investor morale is thinning, and our sources inside confirm internal instability.”

One of his staff members—a lanky man with slicked-back hair—chuckled sycophantically. “Perfect time to push them down another rung, sir.”

Stord's lips twitched into a cold smirk. “Exactly. Tim Aury’s been running that company on ideals and sentiment for far too long. It’s time we show him how ruthless the real game is.”

The unnamed CEO beside him shifted slightly, resting his elbow on the armrest. “You want to bring AURY down... or bring Tim down?”

Stord glanced at him. “There’s no difference. AURY is Tim. Discredit the man, and the company bleeds from within.”

He stood and walked over to the bar at the side of the room, pouring himself a drink. The sound of ice clinking echoed.

“I’ve already got the media ears whispering the narrative I want. All it needs is... a trigger,” he said, sipping slowly. “As for my next move...” —he turned, facing them again, a glint of amusement in his eyes— “I’ve already set it in motion. A personal little present.”

The men around the room shared curious glances but didn’t dare ask further. The unknown CEO, however, raised an eyebrow, sensing something more sinister beneath Stord's calm surface.

Stord finished his drink. “Just wait. The next headlines will write themselves.”

A slow, satisfied silence filled the room.

FOLLOWING SATURDAY NIGHT – AT THE FAMOUS NIGHT CLUB

The atmosphere inside Aurelia Lounge was electric. The bass thumped through the walls like a living heartbeat, the room dim except for shifting neon lights that danced in shades of violet, gold, and crimson. Bottles sparkled behind the bar. Laughter, conversation, and flirtation blended into a symphony of nightlife decadence.

Tim Aury sat at the VIP section toward the back of the club, dressed in a charcoal-black shirt with the sleeves rolled just enough to show the veins on his forearms. His gaze was distant as if part of him wasn’t truly present. A short glass of whiskey rested on the table beside him, untouched.

Saturday nights were his ritual escape—a momentary break from pressure, betrayal, and corporate warzones.

Then… she appeared.

A woman with golden wavy hair cascading down her back and eyes that shimmered like honey under the club lights. Anri, 25, moved through the crowd like silk on water. Her dress clung to her curves in all the right places—deep emerald green with a slit that hinted more than it revealed. Her heels clicked with confidence, her scent a subtle but intoxicating blend of jasmine and danger.

Her eyes locked on Tim like a predator spotting prey.

She approached with smooth elegance, slipping past the velvet ropes like she belonged.

“Hey there, handsome,” she purred, her voice honeyed and low, a practiced warmth woven into every syllable. “You always look this alone… or did I just get lucky tonight?”

Tim glanced at her, caught off guard. “Do I know you?”

“Not yet,” she replied, leaning in just enough to let her perfume drift close. “But we can change that.”

He studied her face. Everything about her felt intentional—her smile, the tilt of her head, the way she sat beside him like she belonged there. Too perfect.

Still, something in her presence numbed the tension in his chest. Maybe it was the way her eyes held his. Maybe it was the drink she offered him moments later—light beer, unassuming.

“Let me get you something lighter,” she said sweetly, taking his untouched whiskey and walking to the bar. When she returned, she handed him the new glass, condensation dripping down its side.

“There,” she whispered. “Something gentler on the soul.”

He sipped it without a second thought.

Anri smiled to herself.

They talked—well, she mostly talked. Her words were like silk, wrapping around his senses, disarming him. She laughed at just the right moments, feigned surprise and admiration in perfect doses. Her touch lingered on his wrist longer each time. She played her part flawlessly.

Then, as the lights dimmed slightly for the midnight dance set, she leaned in.

“You know,” she whispered in his ear, breath tickling his skin, “this place is fun... but it’s far too loud to talk. What do you say we go somewhere a little more private?”

Tim blinked, hesitating.

But his limbs felt slower, his head lighter. That last drink… it had a strange warmth.

She stood and offered her hand like an invitation.

“Just a nightcap,” she said playfully. “You look like you could use some company.”

He hesitated a second longer—then nodded, rising unsteadily.

Anri took his arm and led him through the back door of the club, down a quiet alley toward a nearby hotel where a room was already prepared.

Her smile, hidden behind her golden curls, was victorious.

TO BE CONTINUED…