Chapter 3 Lunch and lies

"I still can't believe you slept with him." Lara's voice was low but laced with panic as she leaned across the tiny cafe table. "Kian freaking Grey, Arya? The man you're supposed to be investigating?"

Arya stirred her coffee slowly, eyes cast downward. The city buzzed around them - traffic, chatter, clinking glasses - but she felt like she was balancing on a wire above it all. "It wasn't planned," she murmured. "I didn't even know who he was until the next day."

Lara's brow furrowed, her salad untouched. "You're telling me you just happened to hook up with one of the most powerful men in the country, and *now* you're going to pretend to be an interior designer so you can sneak into his office and dig up secrets? Arya, this isn't a fashion blog post. This is dangerous."

Arya met her friend's gaze, steady now. "I *need* this story, Lara. I'm tired of writing under other people's names. This could finally put *mine* on the map. I could be famous."

"You could be famous... or sued for espionage," Lara muttered.

Arya smirked, though her stomach twisted. "You're being dramatic."

"I'm being realistic."

They sat in tense silence for a moment, the weight of the plan hanging between them. Arya finally broke it. "He doesn't remember me."

Lara's eyes widened. "Are you sure?"

"I met him at that bar near Midtown. He was... intense, but drunk. We didn't even exchange names." Arya swallowed hard. "When I saw him at Grey Enterprises and he looked right through me - it confirmed it."

"Or," Lara said, "he's pretending not to know. What if he's testing you?"

Arya considered it. The thought had haunted her since she stepped into his office. But Kian had seemed cool, distracted,and not all that happy- not like a man playing a game. "Either way, this is my chance. I already got approval to work on the penthouse redesign. That gets me access to restricted areas."

Lara shook her head in disbelief. "So what's the plan, exactly? You're going to flirt your way into his office and hope he drops his deepest secrets into your lap?"

Arya rolled her eyes. "No. I'll explore the design files, get into the system if I can. Maybe find emails, internal memos - anything that's not already public."

"And what if you find nothing?"

"Then I still get experience inside a billion-dollar company. I still write *something.* But if I do find something... something real... I go from nobody to published investigative author."

Lara sighed, leaning back. "You're not scared?"

Arya paused, letting the question sit. "I'm terrified. But I want this more."

Their food arrived, but the air stayed tense. After a while, Lara muttered, "You're not the same Arya who used to panic over a missing lipstick cap."

Arya gave her a tired smile. "Desperation changes people."

They finished the meal in silence, the weight of ambition and consequence between them. As they stood to leave, Lara touched Arya's arm. "Promise me you'll be careful."

Arya nodded. "I will."

They walked back toward Grey Enterprises, heels clicking in unison, the city's noise rising like a pulse around them. Arya glanced up at the tower, her chest tight with anticipation.

Inside the building, far above them, Kian Grey leaned back in his office chair, staring out the glass wall that framed the skyline like a painting. Behind him, an older man with sharp eyes and a mocking grin paced casually.

"You really do love your cold, empty spaces," the man said, sipping from a travel mug. "What is this? A penthouse or a Bond villain's lair?"

Kian didn't look back. "It's functional."

"It's depressing," the man countered. "Your mother would've filled this place with color and chaos."

"She also filled the tabloids."

Kian's father chuckled. "Still bitter, are we?"

Kian finally turned, raising an eyebrow. "What do you want, father?"

"Oh, nothing." He wandered to the window. "Just thinking. Maybe it's time for a little change. Brighten this place up. Maybe a rug. Or a painting that doesn't look like a geometry problem."

"I'll pass."

"Pity," his father said with mock offense. "You might impress that new interior designer they just brought in."

Kian frowned. "Interior designer?"

"You don't know? I overheard your assistant mention her. Arya... something." He waved a hand. "Snow, I think. Pretty name."

Kian's brow creased. The name flickered something in him - distant but familiar.

"She's working on your penthouse redesign," his father added, already halfway to the door. "Maybe she'll warm the place up. God knows it - and you - could use it."

"But I didn't ask for it father"

Mr. Grey turned, a faint smile on his lips. "Consider it a gift."

Before Kian could respond, his father's expression changed. He staggered, clutching his chest.

"Father!"

Kian rushed forward as Mr. Grey collapsed. Panic surged as he grabbed his phone, dialing emergency services.

"911, what's your emergency?"

"My father collapsed! I think it's his heart!"

"Stay calm. Help is on the way."

Kian knelt beside his father, holding his hand. "Stay with me, Dad."

The ambulance arrived swiftly. Paramedics worked efficiently, loading Mr. Grey onto a stretcher.

At the hospital, Kian paced the waiting room, memories flooding back-his father's stern lectures, rare moments of warmth. Though he didn't spend much time with his father, living in the other part of the world with his mother,he still cherished the moments he had with his dad.

A doctor approached. "Mr. Grey is stable but unconscious,I don't know how long it will take him to wake up."

"What happened to him?Why did he fall?"Kian asked, confused as to why a man who seemed agile went into a coma.

"Don't know yet,but we are running some tests"

"Can I go see him now?"

"Yes, Please excuse me"The doctor said the ran out to help another patient.

He sat beside his father's bed, watching the steady rise and fall of his chest.

"I'm here, Dad," he whispered. "We'll get through this."