Samantha stayed in the office for a few more hours, finishing up the necessary notes and reviewing the details of her report. As the clock moved into the early afternoon, she decided to leave and treat herself to a late lunch.

The restaurant she chose was one of the best in Cleveland. It was a glass building on the corner of a busy street, offering a view of the city's hustle and bustle. When she walked in, she was greeted by the soft melodies of jazz and the smell of freshly baked bread. The interior was elegant, with dark brown wood and prominent golden details. The tables were meticulously set, each with a clean white napkin and a small vase with a single orchid.
She was seated at a table by the window, where she had a perfect view of the city park. Samantha ordered a steak with herb butter and a glass of red wine. While waiting for her food, she pulled out her phone and absentmindedly scrolled through the latest news.Suddenly, she was interrupted by the voice of the waiter, apologizing for the wait. "Sorry, miss, but the chef wanted to make sure the steak was perfect," he said with a smile as he placed the plate in front of her. Samantha gave him a quick smile. "That's fine, I'll enjoy it even more," she replied.
While eating, she began to pay more attention to the atmosphere around her. On the other side of the restaurant, a man in a dark blue suit seemed to be constantly looking her way. At first, she thought it was just a coincidence, but when their gazes met for the third time, she couldn't ignore it. The man had dark hair neatly combed back, his face sharp, and his eyes intense. He looked like someone with more questions than answers.
Samantha tried to remain calm. She turned her attention back to her plate and slowly cut another piece of meat. But peripherally, she could still feel his gaze on her. The air in the room seemed to grow heavier, as if under the weight of his quiet attention.When the waiter brought her the bill, Samantha quickly paid and stood up. She wanted to leave without a confrontation, but as she walked past the man who had been watching her, he suddenly spoke:
"Miss... Samantha, right?" His voice was deep but unexpectedly gentle.She froze for a moment. How did he know her name? Slowly, she turned toward him, trying to hide her surprise. "Yes? Do we know each other?" she asked, her tone controlled, though her eyes betrayed caution.The man stood up and extended his hand as if to ease the tension. "My name is Marcus. I think we have some mutual acquaintances. Could we talk?"Samantha hesitated for a moment. His gaze was intense but didn't seem threatening, perhaps just curious. She slowly crossed her arms and glanced around to see if anyone was watching them.
"If we have mutual acquaintances, could you be more specific, Marcus?" she asked finally, keeping a deliberate distance.Marcus smiled as if he had expected her response. "I understand. But I believe you'll find a few minutes. Just around the corner, there's a café where no one will disturb us. I could explain why I approached you."His calm demeanor was disarming. Samantha knew that ignoring him could raise suspicion, so she decided to take control of the situation. "Alright then," she agreed after a moment. "But just a few minutes."
Marcus led her to a small, cozy café that was nearly empty. The walls were decorated with antique photographs of the city, and the subtle aroma of coffee mixed with the quiet conversations of two patrons at a distant table. They sat in a corner by a table with a view of the street.
"So?" Samantha spoke, crossing her legs and leaning back in her chair. "I'm curious what you have on your mind."
Marcus leaned forward, studying her for a moment, as if deciding how to begin. "We work for the same people."
Samantha pressed her lips together. Her mind immediately began analyzing the situation. He works for the same people? Is he a spy? Someone Kingsley sent to help her? Maybe she hadn't been careful enough, and now he was gathering information to expose her. Or maybe he had worse plans.
"If you're a spy, you'd better tell me right away," she said coldly, her eyes locked on his face, scanning for any emotion or hint that could give her answers.
For a moment, Marcus's face was completely stone-like, but then he burst into loud laughter. It seemed genuine, amused. "A spy? No, nothing like that. Though... I must admit, that label is a bit flattering. In our line of work, we're kind of spies, aren't we?" He laughed some more.
Samantha wanted to slap herself. Marcus. The name was starting to sound familiar. Then it clicked – she had seen him a few months ago during an official interview for the Cleveland Magazine. "Your cover, you idiot," she scolded herself silently.
He was one of those who stayed in the background, more focused on the analytical side of the work than on the action itself. That explained why he had appeared now."Marcus, for heaven's sake, you could've said that earlier, and we wouldn't have had to come here," Samantha exhaled, laughing. "Sorry I can't stay longer, but I'm really in a hurry. I still have quite a bit of work on my articles, you know how it is. See you next time at work."
She tried to dismiss him politely. Marcus waved her off with reassuring words that she shouldn't feel bad for leaving. They said their goodbyes, and Samantha headed back to the resort.