The room goes silent. Grey’s fingers freeze over his keyboard, his eyes snapping over to us. “What?” he demands, the disbelief clear in his expression. “How do you know?”
Oliver and Misha exchange quick, worried glances, clearly caught off guard.
“What the fuck…” Misha murmurs.
Jamie’s tone remains calm and matter-of-fact as he begins to explain. “During the attack, Amelia’s health tracker recorded a distinct irregularity in the intruder’s heartbeat pattern. Not from typical stress or excitement, but something more subtle. It resembled the heartbeat pattern of someone with a slightcardiac irregularity, a condition that wouldn’t necessarily be noticeable without close monitoring.”
Grey’s eyes narrow as he listens, his mind clearly racing. “Go on, Jamie.”
Jamie continues without missing a beat. “After identifying this unusual heartbeat pattern during the attack, I cross-referenced it with the data from Amelia’s health tracker for everyone who has ever entered her apartment. This irregularity is rare, and the match appeared in only one individual among those records, which weren’t many in the first place.” Jamie pauses briefly before delivering the final revelation. “The data strongly suggests that the person Amelia encountered during the attack was her boss, Dr. Langley.”
A heavy silence falls over the room as the implications of Jamie’s words sink in. Grey is the first to move, slamming his fist on the table. “Why the fuck didn’t we think to download Jamie and check with him earlier?”
Oliver runs a hand through his hair, frustration evident in his expression. “We should have done this sooner. We had him backed up. We just didn’t think?—”
“Because I told you not to,” I cut him off.
Holy fucking shit.
Langley stole my work and hurt me.
I never liked him, and he is a fucking chauvinistic prick, but this?
Misha looks at me with guilt and realization in his eyes. “No, it’s because we already had all the data Jamie had. We had those records. We just didn’t make the connection.”
Grey walks over to us and sits down beside me, letting out a harsh breath and shaking his head. “I’m sorry, Princess. This is on us.”
I reach out, placing a hand on Grey’s arm, grounding both of us. “You were doing the best you could with what you knew. But now we have the answer. That’s a good thing.”
“We have to tell the police. Or at least Elysium. But I’m not sure this is enough evidence,” Oliver says, a note of doubt creeping in. “That pattern… it works for us because we know Jamie’s capabilities and how reliable he is. But I don’t think it would hold up in front of a jury. It’s just too circumstantial.”
Grey looks frustrated, his hands running through his hair. “You’re right. We need something more concrete, something that will stick.”
Misha, who’s been pacing the room, stops and looks at Grey. “So, what’s our next move? We can’t just sit on this.”
Grey stands abruptly again and walks back to his laptop. “Let me see what I can find on Hendricks.” His eyes flicker with concentration, the tension in the room thickening as we all wait in silence. “Got it,” he finally says, his voice sharp. “I’ve got his new address.”
“Why would that help? I thought we were trying to figure out what to do about Langley? And find out why he just tried to get into my flat again?” I ask, brows furrowed.
Have I missed something?
“Amelia,” Oliver exhales slowly. “It’s strange that Hendricks quit and left right when all this happened. Now that we know where he lives, we need to talk to him. Maybe he knows something, or maybe he’s involved. At the very least, he might have another lead for us to get more evidence.”
“Tomorrow, we’re gonna pay him a visit.” Misha nods in agreement, his earlier frustration giving way to focus. “It’s worth a shot. We need anything we can get to build a solid case.”
Grey closes his laptop, rubbing his eyes tiredly. “All right, let’s call it a night. We’ll figure this out tomorrow after we talk to Hendricks.”
Though the tension in the air hasn’t dissipated, we all agree.
“Want to sleep here or at ours?” Grey asks, and I just shrug.
I’m too fucking exhausted to care.
Oliver walks to the door and makes sure it’s locked, making the decision for me. Then we head to my bedroom, and the four of us pile into my bed. It’s a tight fit but comforting in its own way.
Oliver puts our glasses aside before his arms wrap around me protectively while Misha and Grey settle in on either side, their closeness is a silent promise that they’re here with me, that I’m not alone in this.
TWENTY-SIX
