Chapter 2

"Strip," Alexander commanded, his voice cold and unyielding as he stood before me in his opulent office. The word hung in the air between us, sharp and unforgiving.

I stared at him in disbelief, my body instinctively shrinking back. "What?"

"You heard me." He pulled a handheld metal detector from his desk drawer. "Remove your clothes. All of them."

My hands trembled as I gripped the edge of his desk. "Please, I'm telling you the truth. I'm nobody important. I don't have anything to hide."

His pale eyes narrowed, scanning my face with clinical detachment. "Everyone hides something, Ms. Hayes. The question is whether you're skilled enough to hide it from me."

I felt tears burning behind my eyes as I slowly reached for the hem of my shirt. "This is humiliating."

"Tears won't work on me," he said dismissively, turning the metal detector on with a soft beep. "I've seen better performances from actual actresses."

My fingers fumbled with the buttons of my polo shirt, each movement feeling like a surrender. The fabric fell to the plush carpet, followed by my jeans, my shoes. I stood there in my underwear, arms wrapped tightly around myself, trying desperately to maintain some shred of dignity.

"Everything," Alexander repeated, not even looking up from the device in his hands.

I closed my eyes, fighting back a sob as I removed the last of my clothing. The expensive carpet felt soft beneath my bare feet, a strange contrast to the harshness of this moment.

"Now turn around," he instructed, his voice devoid of any emotion.

I complied, slowly rotating my body while trying to ignore the clinical way his gaze swept over me. The metal detector hummed as he ran it over my shoulders, down my arms, across my back.

"Please believe me," I whispered, my voice breaking. "I'm just a cleaner. I don't know anything about corporate espionage or oil companies or—"

"Save your breath," he cut me off, kneeling to check my ankles. "We're just getting started."

After confirming I wasn't carrying any devices, he handed me a white terry cloth robe. "Put this on. We're not finished."

The bathroom he led me to was larger than my entire apartment—all black marble and gold fixtures, with a glass-walled shower that offered no privacy whatsoever. Alexander settled into a leather chair positioned directly facing the shower, crossing his legs with casual elegance.

"Get in," he nodded toward the shower.

"You can't be serious," I protested, clutching the robe tightly around me.

"Tracking devices can be surgically implanted," he explained, his tone conversational. "Body heat can mask their signatures. A thorough cleaning will reveal anything hidden."

"I don't have any tracking devices!" The words came out as a sob.

"Get. In. The. Shower."

The water was scalding hot, steam immediately fogging the glass walls. But it didn't matter—I could still feel his eyes on me, burning through the steam like lasers. I turned my back to him, trying to preserve some fragment of modesty.

"Turn around," he commanded.

"Please don't make me—"

"Turn. Around."

I did, keeping my eyes fixed on the marble floor, on anything but his face. The shame was overwhelming, crushing. When I was finished, he tossed me a towel without looking away.

"Dry off. We have more work to do."

The interrogation room was in the basement—stark white walls, a metal table, and a single chair bolted to the floor. Industrial lighting blazed overhead, harsh and unforgiving. Alexander's men positioned me in the chair and secured my wrists with zip ties that bit into my skin.

"This is your last chance to tell me the truth," Alexander said, loosening his tie and rolling up his sleeves. "Who sent you? What were you looking for in that conference room?"

"Nobody sent me," I repeated for what felt like the hundredth time. "I work for Apex Cleaning Services. I was assigned to the forty-second floor. I heard voices and got curious—that's all."

He adjusted the lights, angling them directly into my eyes until I had to squint against the glare. "Corporate espionage is a billion-dollar industry. Companies pay handsomely for the right information. What were you promised?"

"Nothing! I don't even know what you're talking about!"

The questions came rapid-fire, each one more incomprehensible than the last. He spoke of mission objectives and extraction protocols, of competing energy conglomerates and industrial sabotage. None of it made sense to me, but he seemed convinced that I was playing dumb.

Hours passed. The zip ties cut deeper into my wrists. My throat was raw from repeating the same denials over and over. The bright lights made my head pound, and I could feel myself starting to crack under the relentless pressure.

"Please," I gasped when he paused to check his watch. "Water. I need water."

He studied me for a long moment, those pale eyes searching my face for something—weakness, maybe, or signs of deception. Whatever he saw there must have concerned him, because he nodded to one of his men.

"Get her water," he ordered. "And check her pulse."

The man—Ivan, I thought—pressed his fingers to my neck while another brought a bottle of water to my lips. I drank greedily, the cool liquid soothing my parched throat.

"Her heart rate is elevated," Ivan reported. "Blood pressure seems high."

Alexander frowned, stepping closer to examine me himself. His fingers were surprisingly gentle as he tilted my chin up, studying my face in the harsh light.

"When did you last eat?" he asked.

"I... yesterday morning, I think. Before my shift."

Something flickered across his features—concern, maybe, or calculation. He stepped back, his expression unreadable.

"We'll continue this later," he said finally. "Take her upstairs. Give her food and let her rest. But watch her carefully."

As his men untied me and helped me to my feet, I caught a glimpse of something in Alexander's eyes that I hadn't seen before. It was gone almost immediately, replaced by that familiar cold mask, but for just a moment, he'd looked almost... uncertain.

Maybe there was hope after all.