Chapter- 17

"And what if he really is my assistant, Sarah?"

Gut wrenched, two of the heads cork towards the owner of the speaker— Ethan Smith himself is shoving an ID card to the receptionist, that reads,

Name: Ryan Miller

Age: 19 yrs

DOB: 01/01/20xx

Sex: male

Gender: male

Position: Personal Assistant

Address:

Contact info: 9176xxxx

A chaos brewing in Ryan's heart reaches its tempest tossed crescendo. Doubt and panic titillate his every fibre, rendering him immobile— how the hell did Ethan show up? Ryan is stuck in an agonising limbo. Web of assumptions entangle Ryan's thoughts. Could it be that Taylor, his supposed confidante, betrayed him, snitched on him? Or worse yet, had Ethan, his employer, caught onto the intricate net of deceit he had spun? Followed Ryan because the ravenette doesn't trust his assistant an inch? And if Sarah was playing any treacherous game, the receptionist with secrets concealed beneath her deceptively pretty, innocent face? The infinite possibilities stretch out; possibilities are endless, justifications are none.

Ryan's nails dig painfully into the tender flesh between his teeth, without guidance. He stifles the desperate crave to scream, fear cradles the brunette in its arms. How could he possibly prepare a coherent explanation now? The strength to articulate his truth escapes him.

In a symphony of fate, in the least, the truth about Ryan's existence hangs like a noose above their heads. Ethan, the orchestrator of their lives, holds up the damning evidence: an ID card bearing Ryan's identity, a direct contradiction to the whispers of doubt that had threatened to dismantle his existence within LOVESICK for a moment.

Sarah's face falls. Her remorse etched into the very crevices of her being, "I was only trying to ensure safety, Sir," she confesses, disappointed for her own misjudgement. "I beg your forgiveness, Sir, Mr. Miller. Please, sign here and you may proceed then."

In this single revelation, their reception is transformed. Guilt and shame pervade the air, suffocating Ryan in its pervasive embrace. Apologies sound hollow, it does so little to ease the emotional turmoil storming inside him.

Sprinkling disdain in Ethan's blue eyes, the employer mentions Sarah and her shortcomings. "Performing so-called 'duties' without being primed with necessary information is nothing but imposition. Remember that," he chides, his laid out authority permitting to be disapproving.

"I'm sorry, Sir."

"Mr. Miller, here is your ID card," in a manner of offering, Ryan's superior extends the card. "You sure have your shares of confusion with directions. Because this is definitely not what our restroom looks like."

Tentatively, Ryan reaches out, his dampening hands gingerly accepting his evidence of legitimacy. Why he had to be accepted under these circumstances? Right now, it holds a weight heavier than any metal, thrusting him further into the abyss of his self-doubt.

"Sir…" Ryan stumbles, unable to come in direct contact with a vision of Ethan's blue eyes, "I…I have some business to attend to, but you… who are you? What brings you here, I mean—"

"You've come here to investigate, haven't you?" A testament to Ethan's astute observation skills honed by his position as the owner. "That's why you're here. Correct me if I'm wrong."

His supervisor already knows the truth, Ryan could no longer deny it. With a marinating apprehension to his resignation, he meekly acquiesces to the unavoidable confrontation, "Yes," he gives his true intentions away. "But please understand, I harbour no ill intention. You must trust me."

Ethan's gaze intensifies, searching for an explanation that would solve Ryan's silence until now. "Why didn't you tell me earlier? Why keep this from me?"

Nervous frequent swipe of his tongue moistens the parched lips of Ryan, attempting to buy himself a moment of clarity. "I… I believed it was inadvisable. False alarms seldom result in favourable outcomes."

Ryan's response holds significance, a tacit acknowledgement of the potential consequences of premature disclosure.

"Do you truly believe that the malfunction of the elevator wasn't just a random occurrence?" A view from Ethan's eyes narrow.

"I don't just not believe it," Ryan lights up with certainty, "I'm absolutely sure. There was something distinctly unnatural about the whole thing."

Ethan sighe, submitting his permission begrudgingly, "Fine. I'll like to trust you this one time and see where it takes us. But remember, I will be sticking close by. . .ensuring no one can hinder your objective…"

Sarah's attention climbs from her desk, her emerald eyes blazing with intensity, "That was for me, wasn't it? I was only trying to protect everyone, if you recall."

"Mr. Miller," Ethan says coolly. Ryan is assuming the role of custodian, the former is following suit. "Could you kindly inform my esteemed receptionist that I didn't mention any names?" A hint of smirk pulling, "But if the shoe fits…"

Sarah's guilt gnaws at her. She casts quick glances towards the elevator, the epicentre of the turmoil— wheeling past the workers, the mechanics, Ryan has reached the elevator, his boss loitering nearby. Ethan's assistant examines the photographed control panel with a touch of delicate brilliance, nothing detective-like.

"Look here," Ryan points, his voice vibrating with intrigue, "these wires are frayed. Doesn't that mean someone intentionally tampered with them?"

"You mean like foul play?" Located miles away, Ethan's mouth widens, left agape.

"At least it seems so," Ryan nods gravely, "Looks very deliberate…"

Two men's minds align— is this the work of a rival company seeking to sabotage their success? Or is there something more sinister at play?

"Are there any surveillance cameras present in this location?" Ryan's hopes are alive with the anticipation of discovering a clue that could efficiently guide them towards their lead.

"No. Not at the moment," thoughtfully, Ethan chooses the words, studying thoughtfully the control panel, "The labourers advised against installing any cameras that required electricity at this moment. Considering the external sources of the elevators, they were concerned that the ongoing construction activities may lead to a potential short-circuit, all those machinery, paints and cements and waters. So, it was decided not to take the risk."

"Hmm…" Ryan ponders, then shifts his focus, "What about other types of cameras? Laptops, PCs, mobile phones even? Battery cameras? Anything?"

The CEO understands Ryan's frustration, but there's really nothing he can do to lift his assistant's mood. He lets out a desolate sigh. "You yourself witnessed the absence of any personnel here yesterday, so it's highly unlikely that someone would have had access to operate a camera out of thin air. As soon as we arrived, Taylor went off for his lunch break. There is simply no chance that anything was captured on any device. No clues, Mr. Miller. I apologise for letting you down."

Undeterred, Ryan refuses to give up after gaining access this far— "Then, propose an alternative plan."

"I suggest we engage with the security staff and interview the emergency team," Ethan suggests confidently; the assistant is relieved that his worries about getting caught can now be put to rest.

"That sounds great!" Twittering with enthusiasm, Ryan claps, and corresponds, "Let's proceed with that. I'm not sure if it would work because we still will be depending on 'living beings' who are in the power to twist and turn events, and despite this, this is the best option we have as of now."

And so, their quests for answers continue, "I wouldn't say that the thought didn't cross my mind…the engaging with their alibis, but, well, I kind of dreaded your reaction, Sir."

Dark tendrils of anxiety embark on its arduous journey along Ryan's neckline, for he knows that the answers he seeks may lurk within the dimly lit room— they approach the security office, a sense of unease washes, symbolic to a tempestuous wave crashing against a weathered shore. There, the CEO and his assistant perceive two emergency workers, engrossed in a game of cards at a modest desk. The room itself exudes secrecy, or maybe that's what Ryan has been constantly thinking about, in turn seemingly manifesting it…that's not the reality. A solitary pale light bulb suspends from the ceiling.

"Pardon us," clicking the tongue against his roof, Ethan stops their nefarious card game. He begins, a fragility of what is known as the 'fear-of-unknown', "We need to ask you a few questions regarding yesterday's incident."

One worker, an imposing figure adorned with a dense moustache, wearily raises and emits a grumble, but will he let that get to his countenance? No way, "Yes Sir. What do you want to know?" Sugar-coating words that we don't mean isn't an art, it has just been evolved from generation to generation, naturally.

An embodiment of resolve, Ryan enquiries, "Were you on duty yesterday?"

The worker nods, taking a drag from his cigarette, "Yeah, me and Dave were here. I know, by the way, why you both are here. It's about the elevator incident that took place. Sorry to disappoint you, but no, we didn't see or hear anything unusual. Though, during lunch break none of us were here, except…er…you two."

"How can you be so sure? Did you check the entire site?"

Exhaling a cloud of smoke, the guard quenches, not without derision. "Look, kid, we've been doing this job for years. We know when something is off and when it's not. Yesterday was just a normal day for us, nothing out of the ordinary."

Disappointed with the guard's vague, uninterested replies, Ryan moves to "If you were on duty yesterday, where were you during lunch breaks. If I'm not mistaken, your lunch breaks aren't similar to the rest. Let's just say it is, according to the usual policy, aren't you supposed to sit tight until whoever is to take over the next shift arrives?"

The rescuers exchange glances, sharing a silent premade conversation. Finally, Dave speaks up, "Excuse us for his behaviour. But, we were just as shocked as you two are now to be informed that we should be off work immediately. No one gave us any explanation."

"Off work? What do you mean?" Ryan feels puzzled, "Who gave you such a stupid command?"

"That's what our team leader said. He said we were in some kind of danger, our CEO, Ethan Smith himself mailed, warning our leader about whatever the danger was…or still is," Dave, his eyes locked with the senior Mike lock glances in silent discourse, share a subtle agony.

Ryan steps forward, "I would like to take a look at that mail."

"No can do," Mike leans back in his chair, stumping the cigarette butt in an ashtray, "Sorry, kid. Our boss is the only one who can access the inbox. We don't have permission to touch it."

Ryan's persistence kicks into high gear, "Alright then, where can I find your boss? I need to speak with him."

The workers hesitate, until Dave chooses to point to an office at the end of the hallway, "He should be in there. But good luck getting anything out of him, he's a tough nut."

Ryan nods, his boss copies, "Thanks, we'll give it a shot."

Ryan knows he has to try— if the boss is anything like his employees described, getting answers might be a challenge, but the brunette knows he has to try, it MAYBE worth a try.

They reach the office door, and Ryan takes a deep breath— prelude to knocking. "Come in," a gruff voice from inside tells them to enter, into a cramped space filled with shelves of Ethan's dusty files, they step in.

Sitting behind a cluttered desk, one encounters a man in his budding twenties. "Welcome," a formidable contender to rival the likes of Ethan Smith, had he achieved the same level of popularity. Clad with a discerning expression, he gracefully adorns his visage with an ever-present smile, one that warmly beckons others into his presence. This perpetual grin, despite, conceals striking depths, an enigmatic essence that eludes definition and description— he looks welcoming, but he is actually alluring.

Ryan locks eyes with dark grey orbs of the man, "We're trying to get to the bottom of the incident yesterday, and we're hoping to get to look at the mail or mails you received," a spark of unparalleled hope flickers.

"Hello to you too. Myself Cameron Rodriguez. You can call me Cameron, Ryan," Cameron says with an unsettling smile, "I was waiting for you, Ryan."