Chapter 3: Smoke and Mirrors

Monday. 7:56 AM.

Amaya stood outside the Sharma Group building, dressed in black, as instructed. Her palms were sweating despite the early morning chill. She watched the glass doors, waiting for something—anything—to make sense.

At 8:00 sharp, her phone vibrated.

"Basement. Level -2. Code: 8146. Don’t talk to anyone."

Basement?

She found the elevator and pressed B2. As it descended, the numbers faded from the screen. Silence. Tension. Her reflection stared back at her in the mirrored walls—unsure, but not backing down.

The doors opened to a stark, grey hallway. Dim lighting. No signage.

One door. A keypad.

She punched in 8146. A click.

Inside, the room looked like a hybrid between a tech lab and a war bunker. Monitors lined the walls. A few people, dressed in black like her, were already seated. Silent. Focused.

A man stepped forward. Late 20s, lean, sharp jawline, eyes that looked like they could read thoughts. He didn’t smile.

“I’m Rivan,” he said. “Team Lead. You’re the new shadow.”

“Amaya.”

He nodded. “We don’t use real names here. Arjun thinks you’re worth the risk. Let’s see.”

He motioned her to sit. Screens flickered to life.

Lines of data. Surveillance feeds. Encrypted messages.

“Your first real test,” he said. “We believe someone in the company is leaking internal data to an outside group. Code name: Mirage.”

Amaya blinked. “Espionage?”

Rivan’s lips twitched. “Welcome to corporate warfare.”

She leaned forward. “What do I do?”

Rivan tossed her a file. “You observe. Find patterns. Track behavior. You’re our artist—think like one.”

Her heart flipped at that. He’d read her file. Maybe more.

Then: a voice behind her. Cold. Familiar.

“She’s not ready.”

Amaya turned.

Arjun Sharma stood at the door, hands in pockets, eyes narrowed. Unlike the others, he wore a crisp suit—no black. Just authority.

“I gave her a test,” Rivan said. “She passed.”

“That was a puzzle. This is a storm.”

Their eyes met. Arjun’s gaze lingered. Sharp. Calculating. But beneath it… something else.

Doubt? Concern?

No. It wasn’t softness.

It was fear.

Was he scared for her?

Or scared of her?

Later that afternoon, while scanning archived communications, Amaya noticed something strange. An internal report… supposedly authored by “M. Rahman.”

Only… it had been submitted before he officially joined the company.

She froze.

Either the date was fake.

Or Rahman had been working under a different name long before.

She copied the file.

That night, she couldn’t sleep.

Not because of danger. But because of him.

Arjun’s words. The way he looked at her. The silence in the room when he walked in. She hated how her chest reacted when his name appeared on her phone.

Was this attraction? Or manipulation?

She didn’t know. She couldn’t afford to know.

The next day, she confronted Rivan.

“Who was in my position before me?” she asked.

Rivan didn’t flinch. “She’s gone.”

“Gone where?”

“She asked too many questions.”

A beat.

Amaya didn’t speak. Just stared.

Rivan added softly, “Be careful, shadow. There are eyes even Arjun doesn’t control.”

That night, someone slid a note under Amaya’s door. No name. Just a single sentence, written in black ink:

“You were never hired. You were chosen.”

And in that moment, Amaya realized something terrifying—

She wasn’t playing the game anymore.

She was the game.

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