Chapter 5 When the Ground Is Gone

Pressure, Ellie discovered, did not announce itself with chaos.

It arrived quietly-systematically-like a hand tightening around the throat while everyone else insisted nothing was wrong.

The morning after the industry event, she walked into the office to find her access temporarily restricted.

Not revoked. Not denied.

Delayed.

Her badge flashed yellow instead of green. The security gate hesitated before opening. The receptionist smiled a little too carefully.

"System lag," the woman said. "It'll clear."

It didn't.

Ellie said nothing. She didn't escalate. She didn't react.

She took the stairs.

By the time she reached her desk, three emails had vanished from her inbox-messages she distinctly remembered flagging the night before. Her calendar had shifted by thirty minutes, just enough to misalign her with Todd's schedule.

Small things.

Intentional things.

She logged everything quietly, fingers steady, pulse controlled. Whoever was testing her had moved from observation to interference.

And they wanted to see whether she would panic.

She didn't.

Instead, she walked straight to Todd's office.

He was already standing when she entered.

"You felt it," he said.

"Yes."

He gestured for her to sit, but she remained standing.

"They're touching my access," she said. "Not enough to cause disruption. Enough to unsettle."

Todd nodded once. "They're mapping your tolerance."

"And yours," she added.

His jaw tightened.

"Yes," he said. "Mine."

He moved to his desk and activated the privacy field, then turned back to her with a look she had never seen before-focused, sharp, threaded with something dangerously close to anger.

"They're escalating faster than anticipated," he said. "Which means either they're confident-or impatient."

Ellie crossed her arms. "What changed?"

Todd didn't answer immediately.

That silence told her everything.

"Me," she said quietly.

"Yes."

The admission was clean. Undeniable.

"You should remove me," she said.

Todd's eyes snapped to hers. "No."

"You should," she insisted. "Strategically, it's sound. Distance me. Reduce visibility. Let them recalibrate."

Todd stepped closer, his presence filling the room.

"That would signal vulnerability," he said. "And worse-it would validate their assessment."

Ellie met his gaze. "And keeping me close doesn't?"

"No," he replied. "It tells them I don't yield under pressure."

"And if they push harder?"

His voice dropped. "Then they'll reveal themselves."

She hesitated. "At what cost?"

Todd didn't answer.

That, too, was an answer.

The retaliation came that afternoon.

Ellie was midway through a data review when an alert lit up her screen-an unauthorized request for her employment history. Not internal. External.

She froze.

Then she moved.

She shut down the terminal, encrypted her personal files, and walked swiftly-but calmly-toward Todd's office.

She didn't get there.

Two men intercepted her in the corridor.

They were dressed like consultants. Neutral suits. Professional smiles. Faces designed to be forgettable.

"Miss Carter," one said pleasantly. "We'd like a word."

Ellie's instincts screamed.

"I'm busy," she replied evenly.

"So are we," the other said. "This won't take long."

They guided her-not forcefully, not visibly-toward a glass-walled conference room. Anyone watching would see nothing alarming.

Inside, the door closed.

"You've attracted attention," the first man said, folding his hands. "That's rarely accidental."

Ellie said nothing.

"We represent parties interested in understanding your... alignment," the second continued. "Specifically, whether your loyalty is professional-or personal."

Ellie felt a chill spread through her chest.

"I don't discuss my employer," she said.

They smiled.

"We weren't asking about him."

Silence pressed in.

"What do you want?" Ellie asked.

"Perspective," the first man said. "Todd Blackwood has enemies. Powerful ones. People who believe his control has gone unchecked for too long."

"And you think I'm leverage," Ellie said.

They didn't deny it.

"You're new," the second said gently. "Which means you're not insulated. Not protected. Not yet."

Ellie leaned back in her chair. "You're wrong."

The first man tilted his head. "Are we?"

Before Ellie could respond, the door opened.

Todd Blackwood stood there.

The temperature in the room dropped instantly.

"This meeting is over," he said.

The men rose, surprised-but not frightened.

"We were just-"

"-making a mistake," Todd finished. His voice was calm. Deadly. "One you will not repeat."

The men exchanged a glance.

"This isn't personal," one said carefully. "It's business."

Todd smiled faintly.

"No," he said. "This is personal. And you've misjudged the terrain."

They left.

The door closed.

Silence roared.

Ellie stood slowly, heart pounding.

"You shouldn't have come," she said.

Todd turned to her. "Yes. I should have."

She swallowed. "You exposed yourself."

"I clarified a boundary," he replied.

Her voice dropped. "You chose me."

Todd's expression hardened.

"I chose control."

She didn't believe him.

Neither did he.

That night, Ellie was escorted home.

Not officially. Not announced.

A black car waited for her outside the building. Todd stood beside it.

"I don't need this," she said.

"Yes," he replied. "You do."

She hesitated, then got in.

The ride was silent at first.

Then Ellie spoke. "You've crossed a line."

Todd didn't look at her. "So have they."

"You didn't have to intervene."

"I did."

"Why?"

He turned then, gaze piercing. "Because allowing them to touch you would have taught them something dangerous."

Her breath caught. "What?"

"That I calculate people as expendable."

She stared at him.

"And you don't?" she asked softly.

Todd looked away.

"I don't," he said. "Not all of them."

The car slowed.

Ellie felt something shift irreversibly inside her.

"This can't continue," she said. "Not like this."

"I know."

"Then what are we doing?"

Todd met her eyes, and for the first time, he didn't offer control as an answer.

"We're adjusting the rules."

The adjustment was drastic.

Ellie was relocated-temporarily, officially "for security review." The residence was discreet, secure, elegant. Todd's.

Not his primary home.

But not neutral.

She stood in the living room, taking in the space. Clean lines. Minimal warmth. Everything intentional.

"This is inappropriate," she said.

"It's practical," Todd replied.

"People will talk."

"They already are."

She turned to face him fully. "You're risking reputation. Authority. Control."

"Yes," he said.

Her voice dropped. "For me."

"For containment," he said automatically.

She stepped closer. "Say it without lying."

Todd held her gaze.

"For you," he said.

The words settled between them like a declaration neither of them was ready to examine.

Later that night, Ellie lay awake in a guest room that didn't feel like one.

She understood the stakes now.

She was no longer adjacent to power.

She was inside its blast radius.

And Todd Blackwood-brilliant, controlled, untouchable Todd Blackwood-had just proven that when forced to choose between optimal strategy and personal protection...

He would choose her.

That knowledge was exhilarating.

And terrifying.

Because the people watching them would not stop now.

They would escalate.

And the next move would not be subtle.