“I care about you, Henry!” she snapped, voice cracking. I swallowed. Maybe she wasn’t just putting on the waterworks to try and elicit sympathy. “I care about your wellbeing, and I?—”
“I don’t want you to care!” I rumbled, stuffing my hands into my pockets to hide their angry tremor. “I haven’t wanted or needed anything from you for six years, and you certainly haven’t tried to reach out to me in that time. Funnily enough, it was only once you realised Tickle had become an overnight success that you started trying to reconnect.”
Cadence’s hand flew to her chest. “That’s not … I didn’t know how to!”
I snorted. “And you conveniently figured that out the moment my net worth overbalanced your very long list of cons when it came to me! Who is the real gold digger in this scenario?”
She opened her mouth, but I shook my head, cutting her off. “You need to leave. Irina is meeting me for brunch, and I don’t want her to have to deal with your outburst.”
Atlas chortled in the background. I turned my scowl on him. “I have business to discuss with you too.”
Atlas tried to school the amusement on his face, but even I could tell that it was a poor effort at pretending seriousness. “Yeah, it might be best if you go, Cady. I’ll call you later, okay?”
Those words gave me pause. Why would he be calling my ex-partner? What had she been in here discussing anyway? Surely she hadn’t come in just to grill Atlas about my marriage?
“Well, you can tell yourwifethat I’m ending our brand partnership. It’s not worthwhile to provide her with freebies when her content is reaching such a tiny audience,” she bit out, heading towards the doorway where Lucian stood, glowering down at her.
She shoved roughly past Lucian and strutted stiffly off in the direction of the elevators before I could form a response.
“I’ll see her out,” Lucian muttered. I exhaled hard. Lucian would ensure that Irina didn’t bump into Cadence if she arrived early.
“Well, that was more than enough fun to make coming into the office on a Friday worth my while!” Atlas remarked with a chuckle. “Now, don’t come for me over the TechRaker article, because I?—”
“Shut up.” I stormed around his desk and dropped into the chair, firing up the computer. Once logged into the Tickle back end, I dove straight into the code.
The algorithm script I’d built years ago ran twenty-four-seven, pushing content based on factors most platforms didn’t even consider—time of day, geolocation, proximity to other users. It learned fast, adapted faster, than similar algos, and was the reason we’d scaled so quickly. People stayed on Tickle because it always showed them exactly what they wanted—even before they knew it.
I was proud of it. Protective of it. And I had a strong suspicion our new investor cared more about my code than anything else.
Which is why Cadence’s comment about Irina’s low views set off alarms. This wasn’t something my algorithm should mess up.
My stomach tightened as I scanned the code. No signs of tampering. Was it glitching? Or something else?
Before I ran diagnostics, I needed to check the back end of Ri’s profile. If the problem was there, it might be an easier fix than pulling apart my entire algorithm.
“What are you doing?” Atlas asked, leaning over me, breath hot near the side of my face. I leaned away, narrowing my eyes when I noticed something off about the code attached to Ri’s profile.
“Who the hell did this?” I growled, standing so fast the chair spun away and hit the wall behind. Atlas tensed.
“Did what?”
I gestured at the screen. “Who’s been tampering with Irina’s profile? There’s a suppression code in there, and it’s been purposefully added.”
Atlas shrugged. “You know all of this makes zero fucking sense to me, Chewy.”
“Well, it’s lucky that I can check the staff signature, isn’t it?” I muttered, digging deeper into the renegade line of code.
“What do you mean? Do they have to sign off on it or something?”
I sighed. “Not in the traditional sense. Every staff log in has a unique signature, so I can always trace any errors back to the coder who made them. Helps me to better performance manage the team.”
“Well, that’s … impressive,” he commented, voice thin. “So … who’s in the shit because of this?”
I straightened, turning to face my business partner. “Beau.” But I had an inkling that he was just the lackey doing someone else’s bidding. “But why would you direct him to do this?”
Atlas’s jaw dropped, his face paling. “Shit, Chewy, I … don’t you think that it’s necessary?”
I narrowed my eyes. “To suppress Irina’s content? Why on earth would I think that necessary?”
