Billionaire Bae

Chapter 1

Jasmine

The click-clack of my heels echoes through the bustling city streets as I speed-walk towards the office, my coffee sloshing dangerously close to the lid with each step. I fumble with my phone, scrolling through my daily agenda while trying not to spill my liquid lifeline.

"Another riveting day of reporting on the latest trends in office supplies," I mutter to myself, rolling my eyes.

My column, "Staples of Success," is about as exciting as watching paint dry. But it pays the bills, and I'm haven't gotten my hands on anything thrilling in a while. Investigative journalism is why I was hired, or at least I thought it was. When I actually started working, they assigned me to a column I knew nothing about.

Might as well be an expert now.

As I push through the revolving doors of the newspaper building, I'm greeted by the familiar cacophony of ringing phones and clacking keyboards.

"Morning, Jasmine!" calls out Sarah from reception. "Ready for another thrilling exposé on paper clips?"

I flash her a wry smile. "You know it. I hear there's a new ergonomic stapler hitting the market. Hold the presses!"

Making my way to my desk, I nod and wave to my colleagues, most of whom are already engrossed in their work. I plop down in my chair, ready to dive into the fascinating world of three-hole punches when-

"Thomas! My office, now!"

My boss's booming voice cuts through the office chatter like a knife. Heads turn, and suddenly I feel like I'm under a microscope. What did I do? Did someone finally realize that my last article on pencil sharpeners was mostly fiction?

I stand up, smoothing out my skirt and taking a deep breath. "Coming, Mr. Jameson!"

As I walk towards his office, I can feel the eyes of my coworkers on me. I hear whispers behind cupped hands.

"What'd she do this time?"

"Ten bucks says she's getting canned."

"Nah, probably just another boring assignment."

I square my shoulders and knock on the door frame. Mr. Jameson is hunched over his desk, his bald spot gleaming under the fluorescent lights.

"You wanted to see me, sir?"

He looks up, his bushy eyebrows furrowing. "Close the door, Thomas. We need to talk."

My heart races as I shut the door behind me. This is it. I'm either getting fired or promoted to covering stapler reviews. I'm not sure which is worse.

"Have a seat," he grunts, gesturing to the chair across from him.

I perch on the edge of the seat, my back ramrod straight. "Is everything alright, Mr. Jameson? If this is about the pencil article, I can explain-"

He holds up a hand, cutting me off. "This isn't about your coverage of office supplies, Thomas. It's about your future at this paper."

I lean forward, my heart pounding against my ribcage. "My future at the paper? Mr. Jameson, I know the pencil article wasn't that great but-"

He waves his hand dismissively. "Forget the damn pencils, Thomas. I've got something big for you. Real big."

My eyes widen. Could this be it? The break I've been waiting for?

"I'm listening," I say, trying to keep my voice steady.

Mr. Jameson leans back in his chair, the leather creaking under his weight. "There's been a string of disappearances. Young women and children. The police are stumped, but we've got a lead."

I can't help but lean in closer. "A lead?"

"Ever heard of Declan Reed?"

The name rings a bell, but I can't place it. "The tech guy? CEO of... something or other?"

Mr. Jameson nods. "Reed Technologies. He's a big shot, Thomas. Philanthropist, charmer, the whole nine yards. But we've got an anonymous tip linking him to these disappearances."

My mind races. A high-profile case like this could be my ticket out of office supply hell. "What kind of link?"

"That's what you're going to find out." He slides a file across the desk. "Everything we know is in here. It's not much, but it's a start."

I flip through the file, my excitement growing with each page. "Mr. Jameson, this is... this is huge. Are you sure you want me on this?"

He fixes me with a stern look. "You've got potential, Thomas, it's why I pushed for you to be hired. Don't make me regret this decision."

"I won't let you down," I promise, clutching the file to my chest.

"Good. Because if Reed is involved in this, it's going to be dangerous. You'll need to be careful, smart, and above all, discreet. Which I trust you know well.”

I nod, determination flooding through me. "Absolutely. Where do I start?"

"Do your research, become an expert on Reed Technologies and the company history. Get close to him, see what you can find out."

My mind is already spinning with possibilities. "Consider it done."

As I stand to leave, Mr. Jameson calls out, "And Thomas?"

I turn back. "Yes?"

"Don't screw this up. A lot of families are counting on us to find the truth."

The weight of responsibility settles on my shoulders. "I understand. I'll find out what's going on, Mr. Jameson. Whatever it takes."

I clutch the file to my chest as I exit Mr. Jameson's office, my mind racing with possibilities. This is it—my big break. No more mind-numbing articles about office supplies. I'm finally getting a chance to sink my teeth into some real investigative journalism for the paper, to put my degree to work.

At my desk, I pull up Reed's company website, scanning through the glossy photos and carefully worded mission statements. Everything looks perfect on the surface. Too perfect.

"What are you hiding, Mr. Reed?" I mutter under my breath, clicking through to his biography.

The photo shows a man in his early thirties, with piercing blue eyes and a smile that could charm the birds from the trees. But there's something in those eyes—a hint of something deeper, darker.

I lean back in my chair, tapping my pen against my lips. This may be the most important assignment of my life—if I can get to the bottom of it. But how do I get close to one of the most influential men in the city without raising suspicion?

I need to dig deeper, to find the cracks in Reed's perfect facade. And I need to do it without tipping him off.

I glance at the clock. Five hours until I can leave the office and really dive into this. Five hours of pretending to be engrossed with my other projects, when this case has now become my top priority.

I take a deep breath, steadying myself. This is what I've been waiting for. My chance to make a difference, to uncover the truth.

"Game on, Declan Reed," I whisper, a determined smile playing on my lips. "Let's see what you're really made of."