Chapter 3 — Secrets Beneath the Surface

Lucy Carter

The hum of VeilTech’s offices had a rhythm to it—a low, mechanical pulse underscored by the quiet clicking of keyboards and muted conversations. Lucy leaned back in her chair, her gaze drifting from her tablet’s glowing screen to the vast expanse of the twenty-third floor. The floor-to-ceiling windows offered a breathtaking view of the city, now bathed in the soft orange glow of a setting sun. Yet the beauty outside couldn’t distract her from the subtle unease that coiled in her chest.

It had been a long day of introductions, sketching, and careful observation. Lucy never took anything at face value; years of navigating competitive workplaces had taught her that much. And VeilTech? This place practically broadcasted a silent transmission of secrets, just waiting for someone to tune in.

She twirled her stylus absentmindedly, replaying her earlier conversation with Julian in her mind. His words had been smooth, calculated, yet there was something beneath them—a depth she couldn’t quite touch. And that look he’d given her… It felt as though he’d been peeling back her layers without her permission, his piercing gray eyes igniting a blend of unease and intrigue within her.

A sharp ping from her desktop computer snapped her out of her thoughts. A notification blinked insistently in the corner of the screen, marked “Internal Memo.” Clicking on it, she expected another routine task update. Instead, a curt message filled the screen:

“Remember: restricted areas are off-limits unless explicitly authorized. Violations will result in termination.”

Lucy frowned, her grip tightening on the stylus. The message's timing seemed too precise, as though someone—or something—knew she had been wondering about those locked doors. She glanced around, noting how her colleagues remained absorbed in their tasks, unaware of or indifferent to the warning she’d just received.

"Off-limits usually means interesting," she murmured under her breath, her curiosity sparking like a live wire.

As the office began to empty for the evening, Lucy packed her tablet and sketchbook into her satchel. On her way to the elevators, she spotted Marcus standing near one of the glass partitions, engaged in an animated conversation with another employee. The sight of him triggered an idea, and she veered off course, approaching him with a determined stride.

“Hey, Marcus,” she called, her voice casual but laced with intent.

He turned toward her, his easygoing smile firmly in place. “Lucy. Settling in okay?”

“Yeah, it’s been great so far,” she replied, feigning nonchalance. “But I was wondering… What’s the deal with the restricted areas? I saw a door earlier—looked like it led to another part of the building. Just curious.”

For a moment, Marcus’s smile faltered. It was faint, almost imperceptible, but Lucy caught the way his fingers flexed at his sides, as if suppressing a reflex. He quickly recovered, his expression smoothing into something polished and professional.

“Oh, that’s just where we handle the more sensitive projects,” he said, his tone carefully neutral. “Nothing you need to worry about. You’ll have plenty to keep you busy up here.”

His answer was too neat, too rehearsed. Lucy had seen responses like this before—the kind meant to end a conversation rather than explain anything. Her instincts, honed from years of reading people, told her there was more.

“Sensitive projects? Like what?” she asked, tilting her head in mock curiosity, her voice light but probing.

Marcus chuckled, the sound lacking its usual warmth. “Sorry, Lucy. It’s…classified. Nothing that concerns your department.” His eyes darted briefly toward the corridor leading to the restricted doors before he added, “You’ll understand the boundaries soon enough. It’s just a VeilTech thing.” He patted her shoulder lightly, a dismissive gesture that made her bite back a retort. “Anyway, have a good night. You’re going to crush it tomorrow.”

She forced a smile and stepped back, watching him walk away. Irritation bubbled beneath her skin, her fingers tightening around the strap of her satchel. She hated being stonewalled, especially when someone did it with a practiced grin.

The elevator ride down was uneventful, but her mind churned with questions. What could be so secretive that it required an entire section of the building to be locked down? And why did everyone here seem so eager to avoid the topic?

Stepping into the cool night air, she pulled her phone from her pocket, expecting a message from a friend or some inconsequential notification. Instead, her breath caught in her throat. The screen displayed an anonymous text with no sender listed:

“Seek the truth behind the veil.”

A chill ran down her spine. Her gaze flicked upward, scanning the quiet street. The faint hum of traffic drifted in the distance, and no one around her seemed to pay her any attention. Yet the message left her feeling exposed, as though unseen eyes were watching her every movement.

The logical part of her brain urged her to delete the text, to ignore it and move on. But the other part—the part that had always burned with curiosity, the part that refused to leave questions unanswered—clamored for her to dig deeper.

By the time she reached her apartment, her resolve had solidified. She would tread carefully, play it smart. But she wasn’t about to let this mystery slip through her fingers.

Inside her apartment, the familiar warmth of her space provided a brief sense of solace. The scent of lavender drifted softly in the air, mingling with the faint aroma of coffee from this morning. She set her satchel down and moved to her desk, glancing briefly at the framed sketches and mementos lining her shelves—faint echoes of her parents’ legacy that always grounded her.

She opened her laptop to check her emails, her fingers automatically navigating through her inbox. But her focus was elsewhere, circling back to the anonymous text. It felt like a dare, a provocation tailored just for her.

A soft chime startled her, pulling her gaze to the screen. A new window had appeared—not an email, not a chat notification, but a command prompt. The black screen glowed stark against the brightness of her desktop, its message simple yet unsettling:

“Do you want answers? Y/N”

Her pulse quickened. She hesitated, her fingers hovering above the keyboard. This was reckless, and she knew it. Whoever was behind this had access to her personal devices, which meant engaging with them could lead to dangerous consequences. Still, the lure of answers was too strong to resist.

Her fingers moved almost of their own accord, typing a solitary “Y” and hitting Enter.

The screen went blank for a moment, her laptop humming faintly in the silence. Then another message appeared:

“Find the door that shouldn’t exist.”

The cryptic words sent a shiver through her. The phrase was maddeningly vague, yet it stirred something in her—a certainty that this was connected to the restricted areas, to VeilTech, to the warning Marcus had tried so hard to downplay. A hidden door. A place that wasn’t meant to be found.

Leaning back in her chair, Lucy stared at the screen, her mind spinning with possibilities. This wasn’t just about her curiosity anymore. Whoever was reaching out to her clearly had their own agenda, and she was caught in the middle of it.

But if they thought she would back down, they didn’t know her at all.

Closing the laptop, she stood, her resolve hardening. Tomorrow, she would return to VeilTech with sharpened instincts and fresh determination. Whatever game was being played, she intended to win.

And if Julian Veyr or anyone else thought they could keep her in the dark, they were about to learn how relentless Lucy Carter could be.