Chapter 2: The Game Begins
Julia
A week had passed since I first messaged Ethan, and I found myself smiling at my phone more than I cared to admit. We’d been chatting daily, each conversation flowing naturally, as if we’d known each other for ages. I hadn’t expected it to feel so easy. He had this way of making me laugh, of saying exactly what I needed to hear at precisely the right moment.
But there was always that shadow hanging over me—the memory of David, the guilt gnawing at my insides. I’d been hesitant to tell Ethan about him, afraid that talking about my late husband would scare him off. Instead, I kept our conversations light, focusing on the mundane details of our daily lives. He never pried, which I appreciated. I wasn’t ready to open that door just yet, and he seemed content to let me take things at my own pace.
We arranged to meet for coffee one afternoon at a small café near my office. As I waited for him to arrive, I felt the familiar anxiety creeping up on me, my hands growing clammy as I checked my phone for the time. Was I really ready for this? Could I trust myself to move on?
Just as I was about to talk myself into leaving, I saw him walk in. Ethan was even more striking in person. He had an easy confidence in his stride, a relaxed smile on his face as his eyes scanned the room until they found mine. He waved, and I stood up, trying to shake off the nerves.
“Julia,” he said, stepping closer. “It’s good to finally meet you.” His voice was warm, smooth, and I felt an unexpected flutter in my chest.
“Ethan,” I replied, managing a smile. “Glad you could make it.”
We sat down, and for the next hour, the conversation flowed effortlessly. He told me about his job—something vague about freelance consulting that sounded suspiciously non-specific—but I didn’t press him. I wasn’t here to scrutinize every detail of his life; I was just trying to enjoy the moment.
“So, what about you?” he asked, leaning forward. “What do you do for work?”
I hesitated, the word “security” on the tip of my tongue. It wasn’t that I was ashamed of my job; it just felt too complicated to explain in the middle of a coffee shop. “I work in security,” I finally said. “Mostly behind the scenes, risk assessment and stuff like that.”
He nodded, seeming genuinely interested. “That sounds intense. Do you enjoy it?”
“I do,” I replied, surprised by the enthusiasm in my own voice. “It’s challenging, but it’s also rewarding. I get to help people feel safe, and that’s important to me.”
There was a pause, and I saw a flicker of something in his eyes, a shadow that seemed out of place. It was gone as quickly as it had appeared, replaced by that easy smile again. “I bet you’re really good at it,” he said, his voice softer now. “You strike me as the kind of person who doesn’t back down easily.”
It felt like a compliment, but there was something in his tone that made me pause. Before I could dwell on it, he shifted the conversation to something lighter, asking me about my favorite movies and whether I preferred cats or dogs. We spent another hour talking, laughing, and sharing stories, and by the time we parted ways, I found myself feeling lighter than I had in months.
Ethan
I watched her walk away, my mind racing. She was different from anyone I’d scammed before, that much was clear. There was a strength about her, a resilience that made her an intriguing challenge. But she was also vulnerable, and I knew how to work with that. Vulnerability was the currency of my trade, and I’d made a good living off it.
As I walked back to my car, I pulled out my phone and dialed Benny, my contact for this job. He was waiting for an update, and I knew better than to keep him waiting.
“Yeah?” Benny’s voice was rough, impatient.
“It’s going well,” I replied. “She’s hooked. Shouldn’t be long before I can get her to open up more.”
Benny chuckled. “Good. Just remember what we talked about. Don’t get too close. She’s a mark, Ethan. Nothing more.”
“I know,” I said, trying to ignore the faint unease that had settled in my gut. “It’s just business, right?”
“Exactly. Just business.”
But as I hung up the phone, I found myself questioning my own words. Julia was supposed to be just another job, another paycheck, but there was something about her that I couldn’t shake. The way she talked about her work, her passion for keeping people safe—it was admirable. It reminded me of my brother, Thomas, who had always wanted to help others, even when he was too sick to help himself.
I shook off the thought. This wasn’t the time for sentimentality. I had a job to do, and if I wanted to keep my head above water, I needed to focus. But as I drove away, her face lingered in my mind, her laughter echoing in my ears. I was in control here. I had to be.