Chapter 3

I pushed myself away from the door, my breath coming in ragged gasps. He was gone. The immediate threat was gone.

A small part of me felt a flicker of relief, a loosening in my chest. I had stood up to him, I had refused, and he had left. Maybe that was the end of it. Maybe he only preyed on women who were easily intimidated.

But another, smarter part of me knew better.

[He' s just regrouping. The night is young.]

[She really thinks she won that round. Cute.]

The floating comments were back, mocking my brief sense of safety. They were right. A man like Mark Johnson, a predator who built his fame on control and manipulation, wouldn't give up that easily. His ego was on the line, and so was a prize pool of thousands of dollars from his sick followers.

I looked around the office. It no longer felt like my sanctuary of creativity. It felt like a fishbowl. A trap. The huge windows that I loved for their light and views now seemed like a vulnerability, exposing me to the dark city and whoever might be watching.

He knew my name. He knew where I worked. He knew what project I was working on. How? The question hammered in my brain. Did he research all his "targets" this thoroughly? Or was this personal?

My mind flashed to Lisa Chen, a colleague who had been openly jealous of me landing the Horizon Tower project. Could she have...? No. That was paranoid. It had to be a coincidence.

I had to think logically. What was my safest option? I could stay here, behind a locked door, until my brothers arrived. That seemed smart. The building had security.

Or I could go downstairs to the lobby. It was more public, brighter, with a security guard at the front desk. That seemed even smarter. More witnesses.

Yes, the lobby was the best plan.

I grabbed my bag, slung it over my shoulder, and took one last look at my desk. Then I walked to the door, my hand hesitating over the deadbolt. What if he was waiting right outside?

I took a deep breath. I couldn't let fear paralyze me. I had a plan. Lobby. Security guard. Wait for my brothers.

I unlocked the door and pulled it open, peering into the empty, silent hallway. It was clear. I walked quickly, almost running, towards the elevator bank, my ears straining for any sound.

The ride down felt like an eternity. I watched the floor numbers decrease, my reflection in the polished steel doors looking pale and frightened.

The elevator opened into the grand, marble-floored lobby. It was brightly lit and thankfully, empty, except for the security guard, an older man named George, sitting behind a large desk, watching a small television.

I felt a wave of relief. This was better. This was safer.

"Good evening, George," I said, my voice a little shaky.

He looked up, surprised. "Ms. Miller. Working late again, I see. Everything alright?"

"Everything's fine," I lied, forcing a smile. "Just waiting for my ride. Mind if I wait here?"

"Not at all," he said, turning his attention back to his show. "Take a seat."

I sat on one of the plush couches, positioning myself so I could see both the main entrance and the elevators. I pulled out my phone. 12 minutes until my brothers were due to arrive. I could do this. I just had to wait.

I kept my eyes on the glass front doors, watching the occasional car pass by on the wet street. I tried to calm my racing heart, focusing on the sound of the rain and the muffled noise from George's TV.

Everything was going to be okay. My brothers were coming. I was in a public place. He wouldn' t dare try anything here.

I was wrong.