Chapter 1 — The Long Night
Emma
The elevator doors slid shut with a soft hiss, enclosing Emma Carter in the sleek, mirrored capsule. She adjusted the strap of her leather briefcase, the faint scent of disinfectant mingling with the cool, metallic air. Her breath fogged the polished surface for a fleeting moment before vanishing, leaving only her reflection—sharp green eyes shadowed with exhaustion, shoulder-length chestnut brown hair still perfectly styled despite the late hour. Even now, her tailored gray suit remained pristine, as did the faint gleam of her pearl earrings.
It was nearly midnight. Hours of meticulous preparation for tomorrow’s case had left her weary, but the thought of returning to her spotless apartment provided a small measure of comfort. She exhaled slowly, her hand instinctively brushing against the inner pocket of her blazer where her gold fountain pen rested. She didn’t need it now, but its familiar weight was reassuring—a small anchor of control in a life built on precision.
The elevator began its descent, the hum of the machinery blending with the faint buzz of fluorescent lights. Emma allowed herself a rare moment to relax, her posture loosening slightly. But then, the lights above flickered, briefly casting uneven shadows across the mirrored walls. Her brow furrowed, and the hum of the machinery shifted to an unsettling groan. Without warning, the elevator lurched to a jarring halt.
Her hand shot out to grasp the railing, her heart skipping a beat as the hum of motion gave way to heavy silence. The digital display above the doors blinked: Floor 36. She pressed the button for the lobby, her movements precise despite the flicker of irritation tightening her jaw. Nothing. A metallic creak reverberated through the walls, sharp and grating in the stillness.
Emma’s fingers hovered over the emergency call button. She pressed it with measured force, waiting for the reassuring buzz of connection. Silence. Her jaw clenched as she pressed it again, harder this time, as if sheer determination could will it to work. Still nothing. The faint scent of disinfectant seemed sharper now, mingling with the metallic tang of the stale air.
She inhaled deeply, forcing herself to stay calm. This was an inconvenience, not a catastrophe. She could handle it. She always did.
Just as she reached for her phone, the elevator dinged faintly, and the doors slid open—only halfway. A man stepped inside, his movements casual, almost lazy, as though he hadn’t just narrowly caught the ride. He was tall, dressed in a weathered leather jacket over a faded shirt, his sandy blond hair slightly disheveled. He turned to face her, his warm brown eyes meeting hers briefly before glancing at the half-lit display panel.
“Good timing,” he said, flashing a faint smile. “Thought I’d missed it.”
Emma straightened, her lips pressing into a thin line. “Actually, the elevator—”
The doors slid shut again, cutting her off. He pressed the button for the lobby, his brow furrowing slightly when nothing happened. He pressed it again before turning to her. “Is it stuck?”
“That would appear to be the case,” she replied coolly, shifting her briefcase onto her other shoulder. Glancing at her phone, she noted the 9% battery remaining. Of course. She unlocked it and began scrolling through her contacts for the building’s emergency maintenance number. The man leaned against the mirrored wall, hands tucked into his jacket pockets as though they had all the time in the world.
“Well, that’s inconvenient,” he remarked lightly. “I was hoping to get home before midnight. Guess that’s out.”
Emma ignored him, focusing on dialing the number. The phone rang twice before a robotic voice informed her the line was currently unavailable. A tight breath escaped her as she ended the call with a sharp tap.
“No luck?” he asked, tilting his head slightly. His tone was easy, but his gaze flicked to the display panel with a flicker of unease.
“The emergency line isn’t working,” she said, her voice clipped. “I’ll call the front desk.” She started dialing again, her movements brisk and controlled.
He nodded, unperturbed. “Good idea. I’d offer my phone, but it’s dead. Bad habit of mine—forgetting to charge it.”
She glanced up briefly, her green eyes narrowing. “Perhaps you should invest in a portable charger.”
His lips quirked into a grin. “I’ll add that to my to-do list.”
The call connected this time, and Emma spoke quickly, her tone crisp and precise. “This is Emma Carter in Tower Two. I’m currently stuck in the elevator between floors. Yes, just one other person with me. No, the emergency button isn’t working. Please send maintenance immediately.” She ended the call and slipped the phone back into her pocket.
“Help’s on the way,” she informed him.
“Great,” he said, pushing off the wall. “So, what do we do in the meantime? Play twenty questions? Name that tune? Elevator karaoke?”
Emma’s brows knit together. “We wait.”
“Right,” he said, nodding as if her suggestion had been revelatory. “Waiting. Solid plan.”
She didn’t have the energy for this. Not tonight. Her gaze flicked to her own reflection in the mirrored wall, her composed expression staring back at her. The man, meanwhile, seemed perfectly at ease, his posture relaxed as he surveyed their confined surroundings.
“So,” he began after a beat, “are you always this cheerful, or is it just a late-night thing?”
Her gaze snapped to him, sharp and incredulous. “Excuse me?”
“Cheerful,” he repeated, his grin widening slightly. “You know, sunshine and rainbows.”
Emma pressed her lips into a firm line. “If you’re trying to pass the time with humor, I suggest you recalibrate your approach.”
His chuckle was low and unoffended. “Fair enough. But just so you know, I’ve got plenty more where that came from.”
She let out a measured breath, fixing her gaze on the flickering display panel. Somewhere behind her, the faint creak of his boots against the steel floor broke the silence.
“All right, Ms. No-Unnecessary-Conversation,” he said after a moment, “I’ll bite. What’s so important that you’re in the office this late?”
Emma hesitated. Something about his tone—light yet oddly sincere—gave her pause. “I’m preparing for a case,” she said finally. “A complex one.”
“Lawyer, huh?” he said, nodding. “Figures. You’ve got that whole ‘sharp and polished’ thing going on.”
She arched a brow. “And what ‘thing’ do you have going on?”
He laughed, the sound unguarded. “Good question. Let me know if you figure it out.”
Her lips twitched, almost imperceptibly. She glanced at the mirrored wall again, catching his reflection. His grin had softened, his expression carrying a hint of something quieter, more introspective. She looked away, her gaze settling on the faintly flickering lights overhead.
“You know,” he said, breaking the silence again, “this might be the universe’s way of telling us to slow down. Take a beat. Reflect on life.”
Her gaze snapped back to him, sharper this time. “If that’s your idea of a silver lining, I suggest you keep it to yourself.”
“Noted,” he said lightly. His grin faded slightly, his eyes lingering on the display panel. His casual demeanor faltered for the briefest moment, the edges of his confidence softening.
The silence stretched, heavy with unspoken tension. Emma tightened her grip on the fountain pen in her pocket, her knuckles pale against the leather. Somewhere deep in her chest, a flicker of unease stirred, but she forced it down.
Her reflection in the mirror met his, and for a fleeting second, their eyes locked.
Neither of them said a word.
The elevator remained still.
