Settling back into her routine felt impossible.
Every file on her desk seemed to mock her.
Julian's tear-streaked face haunted her thoughts.
That vulnerability, so unexpected, had chipped away at her resolve.
She couldn't ignore the stolen design anymore.
Agnes worked in the archives, a quiet woman with a kind smile.
Her silver hair was always pulled into a neat bun.
She had been with Thorne Enterprises for over forty years.
She saw generations come and go.
Elara sought her out during lunch, finding her by a window, carefully watering a small potted plant.
Clearing her throat, Elara approached.
"Agnes, do you have a moment?" she asked softly.
Agnes looked up, her gentle eyes crinkling at the corners.
"Of course, dear. Always for you," she replied, her voice a comforting murmur.
A nervous flutter started in Elara's stomach.
This was harder than she thought.
Elara sat on the edge of a nearby desk.
"I've been looking into some old designs," Elara began, keeping her voice low.
"Specifically, a collection from about twenty years ago. The 'Ascension' series."
Agnes’s hands, previously busy with the plant, stilled.
Her gaze sharpened, losing some of its habitual softness.
"Oh, yes. A beautiful collection," Agnes said, a faint tremor in her tone.
Elara pressed on, carefully.
"I found something... unsettling. A design, 'Whispering Walls,' that seems to have been attributed incorrectly."
"It looks identical to one of my mother's earliest works."
A sudden pallor spread across Agnes's face.
The lines around her mouth tightened.
She gripped the watering can so tightly her knuckles whitened.
"Your mother?" Agnes repeated, her voice barely a whisper.
Her eyes darted to the empty hallway, then back to Elara.
A bead of sweat trickled down her temple.
Elara felt a cold dread.
"Sometimes, dear, records can be… messy,” Agnes offered, her voice strained.
“Mistakes happen in old files. Especially with so many projects.”
She started wiping down the window sill, meticulously, frantically.
Her movements were jerky, uncharacteristic.
“It’s a big company, Elara. Lots of hands involved over the years.”
“Things get misfiled. Attributions can get… confused.”
Elara watched her, a knot tightening in her chest.
Agnes knew more. Her fear was palpable.
"But this isn't a mistake, Agnes," Elara insisted, her voice firm despite her growing unease.
"The similarities are too exact. The timing too suspicious."
"My mother’s designs were submitted just before Thorne Enterprises launched ‘Whispering Walls’."
"Did you know about this?" Elara asked directly, her gaze unwavering.
Agnes flinched, as if struck.
She wrung her hands, then clasped them together, pressing them against her lips.
Her eyes were wide, filled with an unspoken terror.
She shook her head slowly, almost imperceptibly.
“Please, Elara,” Agnes pleaded, her voice a rough gasp.
She leaned in, her gaze imploring, almost desperate.
Her breath hitched.
“Some things… some things are best left alone.”
She glanced over her shoulder again, a quick, fearful movement.
“It’s dangerous. You don’t understand.”
Her voice dropped to a barely audible whisper, her eyes fixed on Elara's.
"Some secrets are best left buried, child. Especially when they involve the Thorne family."
Without another word, Agnes spun around.
She practically fled, the watering can forgotten on the sill.
Her hasty retreat left a chilling silence in its wake.
Elara sat motionless, the old woman's words echoing in the empty space.
The dread solidified into certainty.
This was bigger than a simple misattribution.
It involved the Thornes. Directly.
Her mother's legacy, Julian's guilt, and now Agnes's terror.
All intertwined in a web far more sinister than she had imagined.
She felt a profound chill, despite the warm sunlight streaming through the window.
The answers she sought were buried deep.
And someone, or something, wanted them to stay there.
Elara stood, her legs feeling heavy.
Her heart hammered against her ribs.
The building, once a symbol of ambition, now felt like a mausoleum of hidden truths.
She needed to uncover them, no matter the cost.
Julian's father. His legacy. The company's foundation.
All of it felt tainted.
Elara swallowed hard, the bitter taste of fear mingling with a surge of stubborn resolve.
Agnes's warning was clear.
But it only fueled Elara's determination.
She wouldn't back down.
Not now. Not ever.