I exhaled softly and looked inside.
Documents.
Stacks of them, neatly arranged, some clipped together, others separated by thin dividers. I flipped through them quickly but precisely, my fingers moving with practiced efficiency. Names. Numbers. Transactions. Some familiar. Some not.
Useful… but not what I needed.
I closed the drawer just as gently as I had opened it, making sure it sat exactly as it had before.
Next.
I moved to the side of the desk, crouching slightly as I opened another drawer. This one was deeper. Inside were files—thicker, heavier, each labeled in clean, sharp handwriting. My eyes scanned them quickly, memorizing what I could without lingering too long.
My heart beat steadily now, focused, locked in.
This was what I was meant to do.
Not stand in hallways overthinking.Not get lost in emotions.
This.
I closed the drawer and moved to the bookshelf.
My fingers trailed lightly along the spines of the books, feeling the textures—leather, cloth, smooth covers. Some titles stood out—business, law, history. Others were more obscure, their meanings hidden behind vague titles.
I pressed gently against one section.
Nothing.
I shifted slightly, testing another.
Still nothing.
No hidden mechanisms. No secret compartments. At least… not obvious ones.
I stepped back, scanning the room again.
Corners.
I moved to one side of the room, crouching low, checking beneath a small side table. Nothing but shadows. I moved to the other side, my hand brushing along the wall as I leaned in slightly, checking for irregularities.
My dress shifted softly around me with every movement, the silk whispering against itself, the diamonds faintly clicking together. Even that sound felt too loud.
Focus.
I straightened and turned back toward the desk.
There had to be something.
My eyes narrowed slightly as I approached it again, this time circling around it fully. And then—
I saw it.
A notebook.
It wasn't out in the open exactly, but it wasn't completely hidden either. It sat slightly off to the side, half-tucked beneath a stack of papers, as if it had been placed there quickly but intentionally.
Suspicious.
Very suspicious.
I reached for it slowly, my fingers brushing against the edge before lifting it carefully. It was heavier than it looked. The cover was dark, smooth, unmarked—no title, no label.
My pulse quickened.
This could be it.
I turned it over in my hands, feeling the slight texture beneath my fingertips, the faint give of the cover. My thumb slid along the edge, ready to open it.
Just one look.
That's all I needed.
I inhaled softly and began to lift the cover—
Click.
The sound was sharp.
Loud.
Too loud.
The door.
Someone had opened the door.
My entire body reacted before my mind could catch up.
I snapped the notebook shut instantly, my heart slamming violently against my ribs as adrenaline surged through me like fire. My breath caught in my throat, every muscle in my body tightening at once.
Footsteps.
Slow.
Measured.
Entering the room.
I didn't think.
I moved.
Quickly, silently, my body dropping low as I darted toward the back of the room. My heels barely made contact with the floor as I slipped behind one of the larger shelves, my movements sharp but controlled.
I crouched down, pulling myself in as close as possible, the edge of the shelf pressing against my shoulder.
The notebook—
Still in my hand.
I clutched it tightly, pressing it against my chest as if it could somehow disappear if I held it close enough.
My breathing—
Too loud.
I forced it to slow, to quiet, my hand coming up instinctively to cover my mouth, muffling even the slightest sound.
The footsteps moved further into the room.
Each one echoed softly against the floor, steady and unhurried.
Whoever it was…
They weren't rushing.
They weren't panicking.
They didn't suspect anything.
Not yet.
I pressed myself further into the shadows, my body tense, every sense heightened to an almost painful degree. I could hear everything now—the faint rustle of fabric, the soft exhale of breath, the almost imperceptible shift of weight as the person moved.
The air felt thinner.
Heavier.
My heart pounded so loudly I was sure it could be heard across the room.
Please don't come this way.
The thought repeated in my mind like a quiet prayer.
I stayed perfectly still, barely daring to blink, my eyes fixed on the narrow gap between the shelf and the wall. Through it, I could see just a sliver of the room—the edge of the desk, part of the floor.
A shadow moved.
Closer.
My fingers tightened around the notebook.
The person stopped.
Right in the middle of the room.
Silence.
Deafening silence.
I could hear my own pulse in my ears, the rush of blood, the faint tremble in my hands that I struggled to control.
Then—
A sound.
Soft.
A drawer opening.
My breath caught.
They were at the desk.
Going through it.
Checking it.
My mind raced.
Had I put everything back exactly the way it was?
Every drawer?Every paper?
My chest tightened.
If anything was out of place—
If anything was wrong—
They would know.
I pressed my lips together, forcing myself not to move, not to react.
Another sound.
Papers shifting.
A faint pause.
My heart stopped.
Did they notice?
Seconds stretched.
Too long.
Then—
The drawer closed.
Slowly.
Carefully.
I almost collapsed from the relief that flooded through me, but I forced myself to stay still, to remain hidden, to not let my guard down too soon.
The footsteps resumed.
Moving again.
Not toward me.
Away.
Toward the door.
Each step felt like an eternity, my entire body locked in place as I listened, counted, waited.
And then—
The door opened.
A pause.
As if they were hesitating.
As if they were thinking.
My heart clenched.
Don't turn around.
Don't look back.
Please.
And then—
The door closed.
Click.
Silence.
Real silence this time.
I didn't move.
Not immediately.
I stayed there, crouched behind the shelf, my body still tense, my breath shallow as I listened for any sign that they might return.
Nothing.
Finally, slowly, I lowered my hand from my mouth, my lungs filling with air in a quiet, shaky inhale.
I was still holding the notebook.
And somehow—
I hadn't been caught.