The gallery was busy that morning.
People moved through the long hallway carrying frames, tools, and wrapped canvases as they prepared everything for the exhibition scheduled the next day. Some were adjusting the lights fixed to the ceiling while others carefully hung paintings along the white walls.
Anna stood near the center of the hall, looking around as the final arrangements were being made.
The place was large, so everyone had spread out across different sections. At the far end, Joy was standing on a ladder, trying to adjust a painting that had already been moved at least three times.
"Wait," Joy said, tilting the frame again. "Does this look straight?"
Tony, who was crouched on the floor arranging the small labels beneath the paintings, glanced up briefly.
"It looked straight ten minutes ago," he said. "You're the one who keeps changing it."
Joy squinted at the wall.
"I swear it's leaning."
"That's because you are leaning," Tony replied.
Joy glared down at him.
Anna watched them for a moment before speaking.
"Tony, if you spent half the energy on working rather than complaining, we'd have finished an hour ago."
Tony slowly turned his head toward her.
"Wow. Betrayed by my own team."
"You're still on the team?" Anna asked calmly.
Joy snorted from the ladder.
From the entrance, Mia walked in carrying a tray filled with paper cups.
"Coffee delivery," she announced.
Tony stood up immediately.
"Finally. Someone who understands my suffering."
"You were literally just standing," Mia said, handing him a cup.
"That's the suffering part."
She rolled her eyes and passed another cup to Joy, who had just
climbed down from the ladder.
"Perfect timing," Joy said, taking a sip. "If I had to stare at that wall any longer, I would've started arguing with it."
Mia laughed softly before walking over to Anna and handing her the last cup.
Anna took it with a quiet nod.
They sat down on a bench near the wall while the others continued working around them.
For a moment they simply watched the gallery slowly come together.
Mia glanced toward one of the paintings hanging nearby — one of Anna's.
It showed a quiet shoreline under a grey sky, waves frozen in motion, the colors deep and layered.
She tilted her head slightly.
"I still don't understand how you do this."
Anna looked at her.
"Do what?"
"Paint things like that," Mia said, gesturing toward the canvas. "Every time I look at your work it feels like there's some deep story behind it."
Anna followed her gaze to the painting.
"But the thing is," Mia continued, narrowing her eyes thoughtfully, "people usually create things like that when they've gone through something heavy. Some kind of trauma or emotional disaster."
Anna raised an eyebrow.
"Are you accusing me of secretly living a tragic life?"
Mia shrugged.
"I'm just saying… the paintings look like they come from someone who has."
Anna took a slow sip of her coffee.
"You don't need trauma to paint something meaningful."
Mia frowned slightly.
"Then what do you need?"
"Situations," Anna replied simply. "Observations. And imagination."
She nodded toward the painting.
"You see something. You think about it long enough. And eventually your mind builds a story around it."
Mia observed the painting again.
"So you're telling me none of your paintings are secretly about some hidden heartbreak?"
Anna gave her a flat look.
"Mia."
"…Okay, fair."
Across the room, Tony walked over while fixing the sleeve of his shirt.
"Are you two discussing art or planning my character assassination again?"
Anna glanced at him.
"You're not that important."
Tony looked offended.
"Wow."
Joy joined them, stretching her arms.
"You're lucky she even acknowledges your existence."
Tony sighed dramatically.
"This workplace is toxic."
Anna smirked slightly.
"Yet you show up every day."
"Because I need the money," Tony replied immediately.
That made Mia laugh.
After a while, the last few adjustments were finished. The lights were checked, the paintings aligned, and the labels placed beneath each frame.
About half an hour later, the gallery finally started to look ready.
Tony stepped back and looked around the hallway.
"Well," he said, stretching his arms, "that should be everything."
Joy walked along the wall once more, double-checking the placements.
"Looks good."
Mia exhaled softly.
"Tomorrow is going to be hectic."
Tony nodded.
"After this exhibition ends, we are all going out."
"Out where?" Joy asked.
"Movie night," he declared.
Anna glanced at him.
"You're the worst person to watch a movie with."
"That is a lie."
"You talk through the entire film."
"I provide commentary."
"You ruin the plot."
Tony looked personally attacked.
Before he could respond, Mia laughed.
"Okay, okay, chill guys. We'll decide that later."
She looked around the gallery one more time.
"I just hope everything goes well tomorrow."
For a brief moment, the group fell quiet as they looked at the paintings spread across the walls.
Anna folded her arms and nodded slightly.
"Yeah," she said.
"Let's hope tomorrow goes well."
Across the city, the atmosphere was very different from the quiet buzz of the gallery.
Inside the top office of A&M Enterprises, the room was filled with a steady rhythm of work.
Papers slid across the desk as Adrian flipped through a stack of documents signing one after another. His sleeves were rolled up slightly, and his attention never wavered from the files in front of him.
On the other side of the room, Mark sat with his laptop open, fingers quickly across the keyboard. Every now and then he glanced at his phone, cross-checking numbers before typing again.
For a while, neither of them spoke. It was the kind of silence that came from years of working together.
Mark eventually broke it.
"Mr. Richard just sent another email," he said, eyes still on the screen. "He wants to renegotiate the percentage again."
Adrian didn't look up.
"He always does that", he replied calmly, signing another page. "What's his excuse this time?"
Mark scrolled through the message.
"Transportation costs. Apparently they've gone up."
Adrian leaned back slightly in his chair.
"They haven't," he said calmly.
Mark smirked.
"Thought so"
Mark let out a short laugh. "Bold of him to try that with you."
Adrian placed the signed paper aside.
"Offer him five percent more," he said. "No higher."
Mark paused mid-typing and raised an eyebrow.
"Five percent?" he repeated. "Someone's generous today."
Adrian gave him a brief glance.
"Five percent is enough to make him feel like he won something."
Mark chuckled quietly and started typing the reply.
For a moment the office returned to its usual rhythm.
Then Mark suddenly spoke again.
"You know what I'm thinking about right now?"
Adrian didn't bother looking up.
"That you should finish the email."
"No," Mark said, leaning back slightly. "Lunch."
Adrian finally lifted his eyes.
"Lunch?"
"Yes, lunch," Mark said seriously. "A very important topic."
Adrian sighed faintly.
"We're discussing an international deal."
"And we can't do that on an empty stomach," Mark replied confidently.
"What do you want then?" Adrian asked.
Mark pretended to think for a moment.
"Something decent. Not that depressing salad you forced me to eat last time."
"That was healthy."
"That was punishment."
Before Adrian could respond, the office door opened.
No knock. No warning.
A familiar cheerful voice filled the room.
"Hey, buddies! Did you miss me?"
Both of them looked up at the same time.
A tall man walked in like he had every right to be there. Blonde hair slightly messy, a hoodie under a light jacket that was still slung over one shoulder, casual trousers that clearly had no business being inside a corporate office and a bright grin spread across his face.
"Wait! Did you guys forget me already?" He said with a slight pout.
Mark blinked once before suddenly standing up.
"Don't you have manners?" he said dryly. "People usually knock."
The man stepped inside like the comment meant nothing.
"Please," he said dramatically. "I leave the country for a few months and this is the welcome I get?"
"You didn't even tell me you were coming."
"SURPRISE!!"
Mark shook his head slightly and pulled the man into a quick hug.
"Welcome back Liam!"
"And where the hell have you been?" Mark asked.
"Alive, obviously", Liam replied with a grin.
Then he turned toward Adrian with the same energy and opened his arms.
"Come here too—"
Adrian slowly looked up from his chair.
Just one look.
Liam froze mid-step.
"...right," he said awkwardly, dropping his arms. "I forgot Mr. Grumpy hates skinship."
Mark snorted.
Adrian leaned back his chair, his gaze moving calmly from Liam's face to his clothes.
"Don't you know you're supposed to wear formals in the office?" Adrian asked.
Liam looked down at his hoodie.
"...this is formal where I was".
"Where?" Adrian asked flatly.
"The airport", Liam replied.
Mark shook his head with a quiet laugh.
"You still show up like a storm, huh?"
Liam finally walked closer and gave Adrian a casual pat on his shoulder.
"Hi, buddy."
Adrian gave a small, acknowledging nod back.
"So," Liam said, dropping into the chair like he belonged there, stretching his arms behind his head, "what dangerous business are you too working on without me?"
Mark crossed his arms.
"First tell us why you're back, he said. "You didn't even call."
Liam's grin softened slightly.
"Oh," he said casually.
"I came because I found something interesting."
For a few seconds after Liam spoke, the room stayed quiet.
Mark leaned against the desk, arms folded.
"Something interesting?" he repeated. "You disappear for two weeks and come back saying that like it's nothing."
Liam shrugged lightly.
"Well… you did ask me to look into something," he said, glancing at Adrian.
Adrian's eyes lifted from the documents on the desk.
"I ask a lot of people to look into a lot of things," he replied calmly.
Liam smirked.
"Oh come on," he said. "Don't act like you don't remember."
He leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees.
"You told me to check where the leaks were coming from."
Mark's expression changed a little at that.
Adrian didn't react immediately. He simply closed the file he had been reading and placed it aside.
Then he looked at Liam.
"And?" he asked.
Liam tilted his head.
"You know," he said casually, "a thank you would be nice."
Adrian raised an eyebrow.
"You should bring me results first."
Liam let out a small laugh.
"Man, at least pretend you're happy to see me."
"Don't joke around," Adrian said quietly.
The playful tone faded a little.
Liam nodded once, understanding.
"Alright," he said, pulling a small flash drive from his pocket and placing it on the desk.
"I started with the financial records," he continued. "The missing transfers you mentioned."
Mark moved closer.
"You found something?"
"More than something," Liam replied.
He leaned back in the chair while speaking, like someone explaining a long story.
"At first it looked random. Small amounts moving out through different accounts. Nothing big enough to raise alarms."
Adrian listened silently.
"But when I tracked the pattern," Liam continued, "it wasn't random at all. It's systematic."
Mark frowned.
"Meaning?"
"Meaning someone inside your system has been leaking information for months," Liam said.
Mark's jaw tightened slightly.
Liam gestured toward the flash drive.
"Those transfers were basically payments," he explained. "Not huge ones, but consistent."
"For what?" Mark asked.
"Internal data," Liam replied.
Adrian's gaze sharpened.
"What kind of data?"
Liam shrugged.
"Schedules. Shipment routes. A few private communications."
Mark muttered under his breath.
"Damn."
Liam continued.
"I also checked the phone records connected to the accounts. That's where it got interesting."
He pulled his phone out and scrolled for a second.
"The numbers receiving the messages are mostly masked," he said.
"Temporary lines. Probably burned after use."
Adrian leaned back in his chair.
"But," Liam added, raising a finger, "one number kept appearing again and again."
Mark looked at him.
"You traced it?"
"Working on it," Liam said. "It's routed through three different servers. Whoever is behind this knows what they're doing."
Adrian's voice remained calm.
"And the person leaking it?"
Liam exhaled slowly.
"I think I found him."
The room grew quieter.
"Mid-level staff," Liam said. "Access to logistics records. Nothing too important, but just enough to pass information out."
Mark shook his head slightly.
"All this for some pocket money?"
"Not exactly pocket money," Liam replied. "He's been getting paid pretty well."
Adrian's fingers tapped once on the desk.
"Where is he now?"
Before Liam could answer, Mark's phone vibrated loudly on the desk.
All three of them looked down.
Mark picked it up.
It was one of their men.
He stepped a little aside and answered.
"Yeah?"
The conversation lasted only a few seconds.
His expression slowly shifted.
When he ended the call, he turned back toward Adrian.
"We might have something," Mark said.
Adrian looked at him.
Mark spoke quietly.
"They found him."
Liam straightened in his chair.
Adrian stood up slowly.
"Where?"
Mark met his eyes.
"The warehouse."
For a brief moment, Adrian's gaze shifted toward the window, as if considering something.
Then he picked up his coat from the chair.
"Good," he said simply.
His voice was calm again.
But the air in the room had already changed.
And Mark knew exactly what that meant.