A Pause for the Warning

Maya’s hand hovered over the mute button. She looked at Alex, then at the client’s smiling face on the screen. The room felt smaller than the conference table.

"Can we pause for a second?" she said, her voice steady but soft. "There’s something I need to address before we go on."

Alex nodded, his eyebrows lifting in the same calm way he had used during the presentation. He clicked the screen share off and turned his camera toward Maya. The client’s eyes narrowed a little, curiosity flashing across the pixelated face.

Maya took a breath and held up her phone so the tiny screen was visible to the camera. The text read, “You’re making a mistake. Trust the warning.” She turned the phone so the client could see the message.

"I received this just now," Maya said. "It came from an unknown number. It says I’m making a mistake. I’m not sure what to do with it."

The client leaned forward. "A warning? From who?"

Maya glanced at the small slip of paper in her pocket – the note she had found earlier that morning, the one that said, “Trust no one.” She pulled it out and placed it beside her laptop, the paper fluttering in the faint air‑condition breeze.

"I found this in my bag," she explained. "It’s not a joke. I thought maybe someone is trying to sabotage the presentation."

Alex’s smile softened. "If it’s a prank, it’s not funny at 09:00 on a client call. But if it’s real, we should know what’s at stake."

Jenna, who had been nibbling on a half‑eaten donut, gave Maya a quick, encouraging grin. "You’ve got this," she whispered, though the client could probably hear the words.

Darren cleared his throat. "We’re all professionals here. If there’s a genuine concern, we need to address it. If not, we can move on."

The client’s expression shifted from curiosity to concern. "We’re about to sign the next phase of the project," he said. "If there’s a risk, I need to know."

Maya felt a rush of heat. The room was quiet except for the hum of the computers. She could hear her own heartbeat echoing in her ears.

She looked at Alex. He gave her a small, supportive nod. "We can check the source of the text while we keep the call going," he suggested. "I can pull up the call logs on my end."

Maya hesitated. If they kept the call going, the client might think they were hiding something. If they stopped, they might lose the momentum of the presentation.

She decided to be honest. "Let’s take a short break," she said. "I’ll step out for a minute, get the phone, and see what’s going on. I’ll be right back."

The client raised an eyebrow but agreed. "Make it quick," he said.

Maya stood, her chair scraping the floor. She caught Alex’s eye. He raised his hand in a mock‑heroic salute, then slipped his phone into his pocket. "I’ll stay here and keep the call alive," he whispered.

She walked to the hallway, the carpet muffling her steps. The conference room door clicked shut behind her. Maya fumbled with the lock on her bag, pulling out the mysterious note and the phone.

The screen lit up again. A new message had arrived from the same unknown number: “Don’t trust Alex.”

Her stomach dropped. She stared at the words, feeling a mix of panic and amusement. Who could be sending these notes? Was it a prank? Was it someone trying to split her and Alex?

She thought of the text she had sent to her best friend by mistake – the funny meme that started this whole mess. Maybe someone was trying to turn it into a drama.

Maya typed a quick reply: “Who are you? What do you want?”

The reply was instant. “Just watching. Let’s see what you choose.”

She felt a shiver, but also a spark of curiosity. Who was this mystery person? Was it a coworker jealous of her new bond with Alex? Was it a rival from another agency? Or was it just a random stranger who liked to mess with people?

Maya’s phone buzzed again, this time with a notification that the battery was low. She glanced at the time – 09:02. She needed to get back.

She slipped the note back into her bag, slipped the phone into her pocket, and walked back to the conference room. The client was still on screen, his expression a mix of patience and impatience.

Alex lifted his chin as she entered. "All good?" he asked, his voice low.

Maya smiled, trying to hide the unease. "Just a little hiccup. Let’s finish strong."

She sat down, placed the note on the table, and turned the camera back to the client.

"Sorry for the interruption," she said. "We had a small technical issue, but we’re ready to continue."

The client nodded. "Very well. Let’s move on."

Alex clicked the next slide, a clean chart showing projected ROI. Maya felt the pressure lift a bit as the numbers glowed on the screen.

Just as she was about to speak, her phone buzzed again, louder this time. The screen flashed: "You’re about to lose everything."

She glanced down, heart pounding. The client’s eyes flicked to the screen, then back to Maya.

"Is everything okay?" the client asked, voice gentle.

Maya swallowed. She could either ignore the message and finish the pitch, or she could bring it up again, risking the client’s confidence. She could also ask Alex to help trace the number while she stays on the call. Or she could step out again, this time to confront the sender.

The room seemed to hold its breath. Maya’s decision would shape not only the deal, but also the fragile connection she felt with Alex.

She looked at Alex, then at the client, then at the blinking phone. The future of the project, her job, and perhaps something more, hung on the next few words.