Elias Renn had always believed people revealed the most when they thought he wasn’t paying attention.
Which was why, instead of heading straight home after work, he detoured into the café across the street from VanceCorp—a narrow place with dim lights, quiet music, and customers who minded their own business.
Perfect for listening.
He took a seat by the window where he could see the building.
He’d watched those doors once as an outsider.
Today, he was watching them as a returning ghost.
Two years of silence.
Two years of planning.
Two years of becoming someone new.
And now?
Everyone was already uneasy.
Good.
But he couldn’t afford to enjoy it too much.
Not yet.
He sipped the coffee, barely tasting it, when a voice spoke beside him.
“You sit like you’re waiting for trouble,” a woman said.
Elias didn’t jump—he rarely reacted outwardly—but he did turn, curious.
A woman slid into the chair across from him without waiting for permission.
She appeared young, maybe mid-twenties, dark hair tied loosely, eyes sharp enough to cut through excuses. She held a notebook in one hand and a half-finished smoothie in the other.
He didn’t recognize her.
And that made her interesting.
“Excuse me?” Elias asked politely.
“I said,” she repeated patiently, “you look like a man waiting for trouble.”
Elias gave a polite smile. “And why would I be doing that?”
She shrugged. “People watch buildings for two reasons: nostalgia or revenge. And you don’t look nostalgic.”
Elias blinked slowly.
A stranger walking in and diagnosing him within ten seconds?
That was… bold.
She opened her notebook. “I’m Lena Hale. Freelance journalist. I’m doing a piece on corporate culture. And you look like someone with opinions.”
Ah.
A journalist.
Of course.
The universe had an odd sense of humor.
“Sorry,” Elias replied smoothly, “but I’m not interested in interviews.”
“That’s fine,” Lena said, unbothered. “Most interesting people aren’t.”
She tucked her pen behind her ear and leaned back, observing him—not flirtatiously, not rudely—just studying, like he was a puzzle.
“What’s your name?” she asked.
“Elias.”
“Last name?”
Elias raised an eyebrow. “Is that necessary?”
“For me, yes. For you… depends on how much you’re hiding.”
He looked at her evenly.
Very few people spoke to him like this.
Ava Lin.
Now Lena Hale.
Two in one day.
Annoying, but also… refreshing.
He finally answered. “Renn.”
Lena flipped a page in her notebook, not writing anything yet.
“Elias Renn,” she repeated, testing the name. “New hire? Or old hire pretending to be new?”
He kept his expression neutral, but inside, he exhaled a slow internal sigh.
She noticed too much.
Just like Ava.
And he didn't like people noticing too much.
“What exactly do you want from me?” he asked.
She tapped her pen against the table.
“I want truth. Most corporations hide things. Most employees lie. And you… lie with a smile.”
Elias froze for half a second.
Ava’s words echoed in his mind.
You pretend too much.
He forced a soft exhale. “You’re very direct.”
“Direct saves time.”
He leaned forward slightly. “And what makes you think I’d give you anything?”
She smiled—not polite, not fake. Real.
It made her look trouble in human form.
“Because people who return to their old workplace after disappearing for years won’t stay quiet long. You came back for a reason. Reason creates motive. Motive creates story. I like stories.”
Elias stared at her for a long moment.
Sharp. Observant.
Unpredictable.
Another problem.
He had enough problems.
“I appreciate your… interest,” Elias said carefully, “but I’m not part of your story.”
“Sure,” Lena said, standing and closing her notebook. “That’s what everyone says before they become the headline.”
He lifted an eyebrow. “Planning to write about me already?”
“No,” she replied lightly. “Planning to watch you.”
Most people said things like that as a joke.
Lena said it like a promise.
She took a step away, then paused. “If you change your mind, I’m usually here around five. That seat.” She pointed at the one across from him. “I like talking to people who confuse me.”
Elias couldn’t help it—his smile slipped for half a moment.
Only a moment.
“Do I confuse you?” he asked.
“Not yet,” she replied.
“Give it time.”
Then she walked out, leaving the café door chiming behind her.
Elias sat still, staring at the empty chair.
He wasn’t annoyed.
Not exactly.
But this was not part of his plan.
He hadn’t returned to attract attention.
He wanted to slip in, quietly dismantle everything Caleb had built on lies, expose the rot at the center of VanceCorp, and walk away untouched.
No reporters.
No curious women with notebooks.
No unexpected variables.
He sighed softly and checked his phone.
A message notification blinked:
Ava Lin:
We start at 8 tomorrow. Don’t be late.
Short. Direct.
Just like her.
He pocketed the phone and finally stood to leave.
---
Outside, the evening wind cut cold across the street. The city lights reflected off the glass towers, turning the roads into strips of gold and blue.
Elias crossed slowly, blending into the crowd.
But as he walked, he thought of two women:
Ava Lin—who saw through his smile.
Lena Hale—who saw through his silence.
Enemies had never scared him.
Enemies were predictable.
People who noticed too much?
Those were dangerous.
He stopped at the curb, watching the VanceCorp tower rising high above.
Two years ago, he had walked away with nothing.
Now he had returned with everything he needed.
Except… a clear path.
His plan had been neat.
Organized.
Controlled.
Until today.
Now there were cracks—thin, hairline fractures in his perfect strategy.
But cracks were not weaknesses.
Cracks were warnings.
And warnings were easy to ignore…
or to use.
Elias let himself smile—not the polite smile he gave the world, but the real one he saved for moments like this.
“A journalist,” he murmured.
“How inconvenient.”
His eyes narrowed.
“How useful.”
Then he turned and disappeared into the city night, already rearranging his plan piece by piece.
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