After that very intriguing session with Julian Marcus, Arielle was ushered into her employers office. For a second time that morning, she sat across from Clinton Richmond in his expansive office, the soft hum of activities in the offices below barely audible through the thick, reinforced windows. Richmond , a man in his mid-thirties with a light beard and a presence that commanded respect, leaned back in his chair, his piercing eyes locked onto her.

“Dr. O’Neill ,” he began, his tone warm yet professional. “I must say, I had my doubts initially, but you’ve exceeded expectations. Getting Marcus to speak—and for that long? That’s a milestone.”

Arielle offered a polite smile. “Thank you, sir. I can’t say it was easy, but he’s… intriguing. Complex, even. There’s something about him that makes me think he wants to talk, but on his own terms.”

Richmond nodded, lacing his fingers. “Exactly why I scouted you for this role. My gut told me you’d be the one to break through. Marcus is a hard man to read, but you’ve managed to get farther than anyone else has. Now we need to keep pushing. The information he has could save lives. I’m sure you know how important it is that we shut down his syndicate?”

Arielle’s smile faded slightly. “I’m aware of what’s at stake, Mr. Richmond . But he’s not just going to hand over details about his operations. It’ll take time. For now, I’ll suggest meeting with him everyday, at least until he’s comfortable and familiar with me, before we probe him further.”

“Time we don’t have much of,” Richmond replied, his tone sharpening. “You know the kind of damage his syndicate has done. Drugs, weapons, trafficking—the list is endless. The civilians affected by this? Innocent lives ruined. I’m not asking for miracles, Dr. O’Neill . I’m asking for results. We need something concrete.”

Arielle nodded, meeting his gaze. “Understood, sir. I’ll do my best. But you must keep in mind that this man is familiar with interrogative tactics. He won’t give up information easily, trust has to be established.”

Richmond ’s expression softened, and he leaned forward. “I believe in you, Arielle. And I believe in the instincts that led me to bring you here. Don’t let me down.”

Arielle’s apartment complex was a stark contrast to the tension-filled environment she’d just left. The modern building was equipped with top-tier security, making her feel safe as she parked her car in the underground garage. As she walked toward the entrance, she noticed a sleek black car idling near the curb. Its windows were tinted so dark she couldn’t see inside. A slight unease prickled at the back of her neck, but she shook it off.

“The security here is airtight,” she muttered to herself, punching in her access code at the door. “No way anyone gets in unnoticed. Gosh! A couple of hours in that place and I’m starting to get paranoid.”

Once inside her apartment, she kicked off her shoes and sank onto the plush couch, dialling her best friend Andy. The line barely rang before his cheerful voice came through.

“Arielle O’Neill ! To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Oh, Andy, you won’t believe the day I’ve had,” She said, groaning dramatically.

“Try me,” he replied. “I’ve been stuck editing my manuscript for hours. Anything is more exciting than that.”

Arielle laughed softly. “Alright, picture this: my patient is a mafia Don. Six-four, ocean eyes, the whole brooding, dangerous package. And he’s… impossible. Smug, infuriating, but also…”

“Sexy?” Andy interjected, a grin evident in his voice.

“No! Well… maybe. I mean, objectively speaking.” Arielle rolled her eyes, though her cheeks flushed slightly. Goodness, something must be wrong with her. “But that’s beside the point. He’s completely unreadable. I spent the entire session trying to get him to open up, and he just kept playing games.”

Andy gasped theatrically. “This is gold! Mafia Don meets his match in a feisty therapist. Nicky, you’re living in a romantic thriller!”

“Oh, please,” Arielle replied, laughing. “If this were a book, it’d be a psychological horror.”

They bantered back and forth, Andy occasionally throwing out absurd plot twists for his imaginary novel. The conversation eventually shifted to Arielle’s consideration of pursuing a master’s degree.

“Do it,” Andy urged. “You’re brilliant, and you know it. Plus, you’d look amazing in a graduation cap.”

Arielle snorted. “That’s your metric for success? Fashion?”

“Hey, don’t knock it until you see the pictures,” Andy quipped.

A knock at the door interrupted their laughter. Arielle frowned, glancing at the clock. “Weird. I’m not expecting anyone. And I didn’t order anything.”

“Maybe it’s your mysterious mafia Don come to declare his undying love,” Andy teased.

“Very funny,” she replied, standing. “I’ll call you back.”

“Don’t get kidnapped!” he called out before she hung up.

Arielle approached the door cautiously, peeping at the door cam. A man in a sharp suit stood on the other side, his expression unreadable. She hesitated but eventually unlocked the door, leaving the chain latched.

“Can I help you?” she asked.

The man pushed the door open with enough force to snap the chain, stepping inside as if he owned the place. Arielle stumbled back, heart racing.

“Who the hell are you?” she demanded, reaching for her phone. “I’m calling security.”

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” the man said, his voice calm but carrying an unmistakable warning.

Arielle froze, her thumb hovering over the emergency dial. “What do you want?”

The man didn’t answer immediately. He surveyed the room, his gaze lingering on her bookshelves and the framed photos on the wall. Finally, he turned back to her. “Maxern ,” he said simply. “One of Marcus’s men.”

Arielle’s stomach dropped. “No! I… I’m just a rookie therapist. I don’t know anything about Julian Marcus’s business.” Her words tumbled out in a rush. “I’m not involved with the organization. I’m just a college graduate doing her job, and they needed my input on stuff. I didn’t even get him to talk much…”

Maxern sighed, muttering under his breath. “Barry should’ve done this. I’m terrible with people.”

“What?” Arielle blinked, momentarily thrown off by his comment. “Why are you here?”

“Marcus,” Maxern replied, as if it were obvious. “He wants eyes on you.”

“But he’s in custody,” Arielle pointed out, her voice rising. “He can’t… how is he even…”

Maxern hummed, a sound that was both amused and patronizing. “Let’s just say his reach isn’t as limited as you might think.”

Arielle’s panic was quickly giving way to anger. “Listen, I don’t know what you think I can do, but I have nothing to do with his detainment. I’m just trying to live my life.”

Maxern raised a hand to cut her off. “Relax. I’m not here to hurt you. Marcus’s orders were clear. I’m to stay out of your business unless absolutely necessary. Consider me a… silent guardian.”

Arielle stared at him, incredulous. “Silent? You broke into my apartment!”

“Minor details, don’t let him know about that though,” he said dismissively. Walking over to her coffee table, he picked up her phone and entered his number. “Here. If anything happens, call me. But trust me, you won’t need to.”

Before she could protest, he took one last look around the apartment, as if assessing its safety, and headed for the door. “Stay safe, Dr. O’Neill ,” he said over his shoulder before disappearing into the hallway.

Arielle sank onto the couch, her phone dangling precariously from her hand. Her heart was still racing, her mind a whirlwind of confusion and fear. Whatever she’d gotten herself into, it was bigger than she’d imagined. And now, it seemed, there was no turning back.