CHAPTER 31: STALL TACTICS

Sophie slipped to the door with cat-like caution, cracking it open just a sliver, enough to peer into the hallway beyond, where the fluorescent lights buzzed faintly and the distant hum of hospital life created a deceptive veil of normalcy. Nurses hurried by with clipboards, doctors murmured into phones, the occasional beep of a pager punctuating the air.

Minutes ticked by like hours in a suspense film.

She strained to listen over the cacophony, elevator dings echoing like warning bells, muffled voices drifting up from the floor below. Her mind raced with worst-case scenarios, What if he sensed something amiss? What if security cameras had caught their entry? But she pushed the doubts aside, focusing on the task, her breath shallow and controlled.

Then, it came: footsteps, echoing down the corridor, Her breath caught in her throat as she spotted him through the crack. Devon, striding with that infuriating confidence, his coat flapping behind him like a villain’s cape, a slim folder tucked under his arm, his face set in a mask of self satisfaction. No time to waste; panic surged, but she channeled it into action.

She burst back into the office, slamming the door shut with more force than intended, her voice an urgent whisper-shout that cut through the tension like a scalpel. "Helena! He’s coming, right now, down the hall. We have to get out of here!"

Helena was hunched over a small desk in the adjoining room, a thick, leather bound file splayed open before her under the beam of her phone light, her fingers skimming lines of text with frantic speed.

A slow, triumphant smile crept across her face, transforming her features from strained to exultant, her eyes widening as fragments of damning information clicked into place like puzzle pieces, printed emails with incriminating subject lines, transaction logs detailing hush-money transfers, lists of nurses names annotated with "confidential settlements" and dates that aligned perfectly with whispered complaints. This could be it, irrefutable proof of his pattern, his payoffs, his empire built on fear and exploitation. Her heart leaped; visions of headlines and handcuffs danced in her mind. "Wait, just a second, Soph. I think I’ve got something huge here. This file... it’s got dates, payments, even email chains admitting to ’discreet resolutions.’ If we can snap a few photos or snag these pages—"

"No time!" Sophie hissed, her voice rising in pitch as she glanced back at the door, her heart slamming against her ribs like a caged animal desperate for escape. Devon’s footsteps grew louder, closer, each one a thunderclap in the confined space. "Helena, please, we leave now, or we’re done for. He’ll be here any second!"

Helena’s smile faltered for a heartbeat, doubt flickering across her face like a shadow, but determination hardened her features into steel. She shoved a handful of the most incriminating pages into her bag, zipping it shut with trembling hands. "Stall him. Just for a minute, Soph. Buy me time to hide the rest of this We can’t let this slip away now, not when we’re this close."

Devon’s footsteps halted abruptly as Sophie burst from the office and positioned herself squarely in his path, her slender frame a fragile barricade against his imposing presence. She planted her feet wide, arms slightly outstretched, as if sheer willpower could hold back the inevitable. Her chest heaved with ragged breaths, adrenaline surging through her veins like electricity, but she forced herself to meet his gaze, those piercing blue eyes that had haunted her nightmares.

Devon tilted his head, confusion etching faint lines across his chiseled features, his lab coat still swaying from his brisk stride. "Sophie? What the hell are you doing here?" he demanded. He gestured dismissively toward the door. "Step aside. Now."

She swallowed hard, her throat dry as sandpaper, words tumbling out in a stammered rush that betrayed her panic. "I—I just... needed to talk to you. About the, um, the protocols from the meeting. There’s something urgent, something that can’t wait. Please, just... give me a minute."

His eyes narrowed, but then they shifted, raking over her body in a slow, deliberate sweep, from the tousled strands of her auburn hair down to the curve of her hips, lingering on the fitted gown that clung to her figure.

It was a gaze heavy with possession, predatory and unapologetic, the same one he’d worn that day when he had sex with her.

Sophie’s skin prickled under the scrutiny, a shudder rippling through her like a cold wave. Her body betrayed her, muscles tensing involuntarily, memories flooding back in visceral flashes, his breath hot against her neck, his hands pinning her down, the helplessness that had left scars deeper than skin. She trembled, fists clenching at her sides, fighting the urge to recoil.

But before he could respond, or worse, advance, a faint rustle echoed from within the office, muffled but unmistakable, like papers shifting or a drawer easing shut. Devon’s head snapped toward the sound, his brows furrowing into suspicion. "What was that?" he muttered, more to himself than her. Without another word, he reached out, his large hands encircling her waist with effortless strength. He lifted her aside as if she were nothing more than an inconvenient obstacle, his fingers digging into her sides just enough to send a jolt of revulsion through her. Sophie’s eyes squeezed shut on instinct, her breath hitching at the unwanted intimacy, the ghost of his past assault making her stomach churn.

The moment his grip released, reality crashed back. Her eyes shot open, wide with alarm, and she spun on her heel, darting into the office right behind him, the door clicking shut in her wake.

Inside, Sophie froze, her jaw dropping in stunned disbelief. The room looked pristine, drawers neatly closed, papers stacked in orderly piles, the USB drives she’d pocketed earlier the only evidence of their intrusion hidden away. Helena had worked a miracle in those frantic seconds, restoring the chaos to spotless perfection. How? Sophie’s mind raced, but there was no time to ponder.

Devon’s gaze swept the main office like a hawk scanning for prey, his expression a mask of calculated neutrality, lips pressed thin, jaw set. He didn’t linger, striding purposefully toward the adjoining room, his polished shoes clicking against the floor. Sophie hurried after him, her pulse thundering in her ears, every step a desperate bid to draw his attention away from any overlooked detail.

In the room, Devon’s scrutiny intensified. He paced slowly, eyes darting from the rumpled couch to the diplomas on the wall, then to the small desk where Helena had been moments ago. Something felt off to him; Sophie could see it in the subtle tightening of his shoulders, the way his fingers flexed at his sides. He couldn’t name it, but the air hummed with unspoken violation.

"Who’s been in here?" he asked suddenly, turning to face her with an intensity that pinned her in place. His voice was low, edged with accusation.

Sophie frowned, feigning confusion to buy precious seconds. "No one," she replied, her tone sharper than intended, laced with a defiance she hoped masked her fear. "Why would anyone be? I just came by to wait for you after the meeting. Like I said, about the protocols."

He studied her for a long beat, skepticism flickering in his eyes, but he didn’t press immediately. Instead, he resumed his circuit of the room, moving with deliberate slowness. Each time he paused, at the desk, by the rug’s edge, near the overturned cushions now flawlessly plumped, his gaze flicked back to Sophie, watching for any tell, a twitch, a glance, a bead of sweat. It was a game of cat and mouse, his stare probing her reactions like a lie detector, searching for cracks in her composure.

Unbeknownst to him, Helena huddled in the narrow wardrobe tucked against the far wall, her body crammed into the confined space amid hanging coats and forgotten files. She held her breath, heart pounding so loudly she feared it would give her away, the messenger bag clutched tight against her chest like a talisman.

Devon’s path brought him closer to the wardrobe, his shadow stretching across the floor like a noose tightening. He stopped mere feet away, his hand absently trailing over a nearby shelf, but his eyes locked on Sophie once more. "If I find out someone’s been snooping around in here without my permission," he said, his voice dropping to a silken threat, heavy with implied consequences, "heads will roll. Starting with yours. You understand that, don’t you, Sophie? "

Devon’s hand hovered over the wardrobe’s handle, his fingers grazing the polished brass, the faint creak of the hinges already whispering betrayal. Sophie’s heart seized, her mind flashing to Helena, curled tight in the cramped darkness, clutching the damning evidence that could end this nightmare. Time fractured, each second stretched into eternity. If he opened that door, it was over, for them, for the truth.

"Devon, wait!" Her voice sliced through the tension, sharp and urgent. She lunged forward, grabbing his wrist with a strength born of desperation, pulling his hand from the wardrobe. Rising onto her toes, she pressed her lips to his in a calculated, heart stopping gamble.