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CHAPTER 2:A Name Like a Warning
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2026-03-26 17:25:56Every person Alina asked about Adrian Voss gave her the same response: a sharp deep breath, then silence, then the careful face of someone deciding how honest to be.
She started with Priya at work because Priya knew everything about everyone and was constitutionally unable to stop herself from sharing it. "Adrian Voss?" Priya put down her coffee. "Why? Alina, why?" "I just need to know who he is." "Everyone knows who he is. He's the reason half the city's mid-tier property developers lost their jobs in 2021. He's the reason the Kellerman Group doesn't exist anymore. He—" Priya stopped. "Did he contact you?" "I got a letter." "Oh God." "Priya." "No, I'm just — okay. Okay. What did the letter say?" "That he wants to meet. That he has an offer." Priya was quiet for a moment. Then: "What kind of offer?" "He didn't specify." "Right. He wouldn't." Priya picked her phone up, then put it down, then picked it up again. "Alina, men like Adrian Voss don't make offers. They make arrangements. There's a difference. An offer is something you can say no to." She paused. "Can you say no to this one?" Alina thought about the hospital bill. The thirty days. The photograph. "I don't think so." "Then be very, very careful." It wasn't useful advice. But it was honest, which was more than she'd expected. She called Ethan at seven. He arrived at seven forty-five with food and an armful of printed articles he'd stress-researched, which was how she knew he'd already read the articles before he came, which meant he'd already formed the argument. He put everything on the table and stood back and looked at her. "Don't," she said. "I haven't said anything." "You have a face. The face you make when you've already decided what I should do and you're about to explain it to me." "I just think—" "Ethan. I know what you think. I know you. You think I should walk away and that it isn't worth it. You think we can figure something else out." She looked at him. "Tell me what. Specifically." He opened his mouth. "Not 'we'll figure it out.' Something specific." He closed his mouth. "My mother has a pending balance of thirty-two thousand dollars ," she said. The number sat between them like something heavy. "The landlord has given me thirty days before I'm evicted . My salary after existing rent leaves me with two hundred dollars a month, Ethan. Two hundred. I've done the maths. There is nothing I haven't tried. This time there is no version of this where we figure it out." She picked up one of his printed articles. "So yes. I'm going to the meeting." Ethan sat down heavily. He put his elbows on his knees and pressed his face into his hands for a moment. "I hate this," he said, into his hands. "I know." "I hate that I can't—" He stopped. Looked up. "I hate that I can't just fix it and that I feel helpless." "I know you do." She sat across from him. "But you can't. And that's not your fault. And I need you to not make this harder by pretending there's another option, because there isn't, and I need to focus." A long silence. In the kitchen, the refrigerator hummed. Somewhere above them, they could hear a sound from their neighbour's television through the ceiling. "What does he want from you?" Ethan said. "I don't know yet." "He's not just being generous. Men like him aren't generous." He picked up one of the articles. "Three companies destroyed in four years. Not failed — destroyed. There's a difference. This man doesn't do anything without a reason." "Then I'll find out the reason when I meet him." "And if the reason is something you can't do?" "Then I'll leave the meeting." "And if it's something you can do but shouldn't?" She didn't answer that one. Ethan looked at her for a long time, the way he did when he was memorizing her face for a version of events he was afraid was coming. "If anything feels wrong," he said quietly, "you call me. Immediately. Doesn't matter what time." "I know." "I'm serious, Alina." "I know, Ethan." She put her hand over his for a second. "I know." He stayed until almost midnight. They didn't talk about Adrian Voss again. They talked about how her mother's last check-up went , and the film Ethan had been meaning to watch for three months but has been procrastinating, and the city's broken traffic lights on Clement Street. Normal things. The kind of conversation that meant: I'm scared and I love you and I don't know what else to do except sit here with you until I have to go. After he left, Alina sat alone with the articles spread in front of her. She read all of them. Then she turned them over so she couldn't see the headlines, and she typed a message to the number in the letter ,I'll come to the meeting. But I have conditions. The reply came back in under a minute. Mr. Voss expected that. He says: bring your conditions. And bring the photograph — he'd like to return the original. Alina read it twice. Then she read it a third time, because the part that caught her attention was not bringing her conditions. It was the part about the photograph. He had the original. Which meant what she'd been sent was a copy. Which meant he had been carrying her image around for three years, and he'd kept the real one for himself.
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