Episode 9 – Traces of the Past
Jasmine couldn't sleep.
The message from the unknown sender replayed in her head like a broken record. "Check his past. Start with the night he disappeared."
So she did.
At 2 a.m., wrapped in a blanket, she sat in front of her laptop. She typed Callum Reed disappearance, Phoenix Corp scandal, Reed family history—anything she could think of. Most articles were about business achievements, Forbes features, and charity galas.
But one headline stopped her cold.
"Reed Heir's Sudden Exit Linked to Internal Cover-Up?"
The article was five years old. No names, no direct accusations. Just whispers of corruption, a silenced lawsuit, and an alleged financial discrepancy involving the Reed family. Jasmine's stomach twisted. Was this why he left?
She read every word, dissecting every line. Nothing directly pointed to Callum—but the timing matched. Right when he vanished from her life.
Suddenly, her screen flickered.
She blinked.
Her laptop screen went black.
"What the hell—" she whispered.
A moment later, it restarted on its own.
Her wallpaper was gone. Files rearranged.
She froze.
Was someone watching her?
---
The next morning, Jasmine was unusually quiet at work. Callum noticed.
"Did something happen?" he asked as she poured his coffee.
She didn't meet his eyes. "Just didn't sleep well."
"Nightmares?"
"Something like that."
He stared at her a moment longer. "You're not the only one."
She looked up.
For a second, she saw it—real exhaustion under his polished exterior. Shadows under his eyes. A crack in the armor.
But just like that, it was gone.
Back to the unreadable CEO mask.
---
Later that day, she found herself in the building's restricted archive room. She wasn't supposed to be there. Only high-level staff had access—but Max had quietly slipped her the code.
"This stays between us," he had warned.
Now, standing in the dim-lit space surrounded by locked cabinets and silent servers, Jasmine scrolled through digital folders labeled by year.
She clicked on 2019.
Then Internal Reports.
A file titled "Confidential - Reed Holdings Transition" blinked back at her.
She hesitated, then opened it.
Dozens of pages scrolled by—numbers, transfers, legal phrases she didn't understand. But one phrase jumped out:
> "Undisclosed settlement following whistleblower complaint. Individual removed from board position indefinitely."
No name.
No details.
But it felt… close.
She copied the file to her flash drive and slipped out, heart hammering.
---
That evening, Jasmine walked into her apartment and froze.
Her door was slightly open.
She was sure she locked it.
"Hello?" she called.
No answer.
She stepped inside slowly, her keys clenched like a weapon.
Everything looked normal—until she reached her desk.
Her laptop was open. The screen glowing.
A message was typed out, unfinished:
> "He's not just hiding from the past. He's protecting you from—"
The cursor blinked.
And Jasmine realized she hadn't typed it.
---
The next day, she confronted Callum.
"I need answers."
He didn't look surprised. Just tired. "About?"
"Five years ago. Why you left. What you were involved in."
He stepped around his desk and leaned against it. "That part of my life is gone."
"But it's not gone for me," she shot back. "You came back into my life without warning, and now everything is... twisted."
Callum looked at her for a long moment. "If I tell you the truth, you might wish I hadn't."
"Try me."
He walked over, so close she could hear the quiet ache in his voice.
"I left because someone made me. Because staying meant putting you in danger."
She blinked. "Danger? From who?"
He didn't answer.
Instead, he whispered, "I never stopped thinking about you, Jasmine. But loving you came with a cost I wasn't willing to make you pay."
Her heart thudded. "And now?"
He looked at her like she was the only thing keeping him breathing.
"Now the cost has doubled."
Before she could speak, his phone buzzed.
He checked it and went pale.
"I have to go. Stay in your office. Lock the door. Don't talk to anyone."
"Callum—"
But he was already gone.
---
Jasmine stood frozen, the air suddenly too still.
What had he seen on that phone? Who was threatening them?
She had questions. And now, it seemed, she was running out of time to get answers.