Cynthia Brooks noticed Ethan for the first time at exactly 3:17 p.m.
Not because he did anything loud or obvious — but because he didn't.
The office was winding into its late-afternoon rhythm. Phones rang less frequently, keyboards clicked in lazy bursts, and the energy shifted from urgency to endurance. Cynthia had just returned from the conference room after seeing Julianne off, her thoughts still tangled between relief and lingering fear.
That was when she realized someone had been standing near the printer for far too long.
Ethan.
He was one of the newer hires — quiet, polite. Dark hair, neutral clothes, glasses he adjusted.
He wasn't printing anything.
He was watching.
Not her — at least not directly. His gaze flicked toward Alexander Voss's office every few seconds, then back to his phone, then to the hallway. Like he was waiting for something. Or someone.
Cynthia told herself she was being paranoid. After everything she'd been through, suspicion came easily. Still, she couldn't shake the unease settling in her chest.
She turned back to her desk and focused on her screen.
Two minutes later, Ethan walked past her.
Too close.
His shoulder brushed the edge of her chair, even though there was plenty of space. He murmured a quick "Sorry" without slowing down, eyes downcast.
But his phone screen was still lit.
And reflected in it, just for a second, Cynthia saw Alexander's office door.
Across the office, Alexander Voss sat at his desk, reviewing documents Lydia West had left unfinished. He didn't like unfinished things. He liked clean lines.
But today, his attention kept drifting.
He felt it — that subtle disruption in the air that told him something was off. It was the same instinct that had kept him alive years ago, back when trust was currency and betrayal came cheap.
He glanced at the security feed on his tablet.
Nothing obvious.
Then she saw ethan standing near the records cabinet now. Too close to restricted files.
Alexander's jaw tightened.
Ethan had been vetted. Background clean. References solid. No obvious red flags.
Which meant nothing.
The most dangerous people rarely came with warning signs.
Alexander tapped his desk twice — a habit Evan had once teased him about — then picked up his phone.
Alexander: Where are you?
Evan: Lobby. Why?
Alexander: Keep an eye on the floor. Quietly.
Evan: On it.
Alexander leaned back, eyes still on the glass wall of his office. Ethan moved again — this time toward the assistant desks. Toward Cynthia.
That was enough.
Cynthia was mid-email when Ethan stopped beside her desk.
"Miss Brooks?" he said softly.
She looked up, startled. "Yes?"
"I'm still learning the filing system," he said, adjusting his glasses. "I heard you worked closely with Mr. Voss before. Could you explain how he prefers things archived?"
It was a reasonable question.
Too reasonable.
Cynthia hesitated. "Most of his files are encrypted. Physical copies go through his assistant."
Ethan nodded slowly. "Right. Of course." A pause. "You used to be his assistant, didn't you?"
The question landed heavier than it should have.
"Yes," she said carefully.
"And now… you're not."
"No," she replied, pulse quickening. "I'm not."
Ethan smiled. It didn't quite reach his eyes. "Must have been intense. Working that close to him."
Cynthia forced a neutral expression. "It was a job."
Another pause. He leaned slightly closer. "You must know a lot."
Cynthia felt it then — that subtle tightening in her chest. "I know how to do my work."
Ethan straightened. "Of course. Sorry. I didn't mean to pry."
He walked away.
From his office, Alexander watched the interaction through the glass. He didn't hear the words, but he saw Cynthia's shoulders stiffen. Saw the way Ethan lingered a fraction too long.
Alexander stood.
He exited his office, footsteps measured, expression unreadable. The room seemed to quiet instinctively.
"Ethan," he said calmly.
Ethan turned. "Yes, sir?"
"Come with me."
The tone wasn't a request.
Inside the office, Alexander closed the door behind them. He didn't sit.
"You're new," Alexander said evenly. "Which means you observe. You don't interrogate."
Ethan swallowed. "I was just asking about filing preferences."
"Miss Brooks is not your resource," Alexander replied. "If you have questions, you come to me. Or HR."
"Yes, sir."
Alexander studied him. "Is there a reason you're interested in my previous assistant?"
Ethan hesitated. Just a beat too long.
"No, sir."
Alexander's gaze sharpened. "Good. Because curiosity in this building can be… dangerous."
Ethan nodded quickly. "Understood."
"Return to your duties."
Ethan left.
Alexander remained standing for several seconds after the door closed.
His instincts were screaming.
By the time Cynthia packed up to leave, the office felt different again — tighter, heavier, like a storm building without rain.
As she stepped into the elevator, she glanced back.
Ethan stood near the exit, phone in hand, pretending to scroll.
And they followed fofoll