Billionaires Desire

under the surface

The car ride to Atticus’s workplace was quiet, the tension between them simmering just beneath the surface. Desiree couldn’t shake the feeling that their world was darker than she had first imagined, and yet here she was, willingly driving further into it.

When they arrived, she expected to see a sleek, corporate office building. Instead, the car pulled up to a secluded industrial complex, the cold, sterile facade of the facility looming in the distance. Atticus said nothing as he led her inside as they navigated the long, dimly lit corridors.

They entered an office that overlooked what appeared to be a factory floor. From behind the one-way glass, Desiree could see men in lab coats moving around, attending to strange machines and large vats. They were handling what looked like ordinary cotton—fluffy and harmless, but the meticulous care with which they treated it told her there was something more beneath the surface.

“What is this place?” she asked, her voice hushed as she pressed her hand against the cool glass, watching the operation unfold below.

Atticus stood behind her, his hands resting lightly on her shoulders. His eyes followed the movement on the factory floor with a calm detachment. “A project,” he said simply.

Desiree’s brows knitted together as she watched the cotton being placed in various items like pillows. But on the other side she noticed something strange, flour maybe?.

“What’s the powder for?” she asked, her voice tight with apprehension.

Atticus didn’t answer right away. Instead, he turned her around gently, so she was facing him. His eyes searched hers, the intensity of his gaze making her pulse quicken. “You don’t need to worry about that,” he said softly, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.

Her heart pounded in her chest. Every part of her screamed that she should be asking more questions, but the way Atticus looked at her—calm, confident, in control—it made it hard to focus. Still, the uncertainty gnawed at her.

“It just looks like cotton,” she murmured, glancing over her shoulder at the factory below.

“It is,” Atticus replied, his voice casual. “But it's made that way so it can be transported easily. You’ll learn soon enough—everything has a purpose.”

---
The rest of the day he spent in a lab with a one of the scientist, she had watched as they melted down the cotton in an acid solution and dyed it into a small amount of power one that could be blown away into nothing by a simple sneeze. This led her to believe that there was something more to it perhaps it was a drug.

---

The ride back was silent. Atticus had slipped a jacket full of the cotton into the trunk without a word, and Desiree couldn’t shake the growing unease that settled deep in her bones. She stared out the window, the dim city lights flickering as they sped through the night. Atticus drove fast, his knuckles tight around the wheel, but there was something almost reckless in the way he navigated the empty roads.

Suddenly, flashing red and blue lights filled the rearview mirror. Desiree tensed as a police car pulled up behind them, signaling for Atticus to stop.

He slowed to a halt, rolling down the window with the calm precision that made her stomach flip. The officer, a middle-aged man with a stern face, approached, but the moment he saw Atticus, his expression softened.

“Evening, Killian,” the officer greeted warmly, tipping his hat slightly. “You were speeding, but I’ll let you off. Just doing some routine checks tonight.”

Desiree felt the air in the car thicken. The officer’s friendly tone didn’t match the knot of anxiety forming in her chest. “We’re checking all the cars passing through. I’ll skip the formalities and just have a quick look around.”