He didn't.
At 9:47, I let myself into his office with the spare key I'd found in his nightstand drawer two nights ago, while he slept. The key turned smoothly in the lock—hehadn't changed it since my last intrusion, which meant either he hadn't noticed or he was confident I hadn't found anything significant. Both possibilities were useful.
The laptop sat on his desk, closed and waiting. I opened it, and the password screen glowed to life.
This time, I didn't bother guessing. I pulled the USB drive from my pocket—the one I'd prepared after my first visit, loaded with a keylogger program I'd found on a security forum and modified with skills I hadn't known I possessed until I needed them. I inserted it into the port, waited for the indicator light to blink green, and then typed a random password.
The screen shook its head at me—incorrect password—but the keylogger had already captured the keystrokes from the login screen's security protocol. It would give me what I needed, but not yet. The program required time to burrow into the system, to map the encryption architecture, to find the backdoors Nathan had either overlooked or considered too obscure to matter.
I had time. Not much, but enough.
The desk drawers yielded more than they had on my first visit. Either Nathan was getting careless, or he'd decided the locked study door was sufficient security. The paper files were still there—personnel dossiers, intelligence reports, financial records—but now I had the presence of mind to photograph each page with my phone, creating a digital archive I could examine later.
One file caught my attention immediately. It was labeled "Acquisition Costs," and inside were spreadsheets detailing payments made to various entities over the past three years. The amounts were staggering—hundreds of thousands of dollars, sometimes millions, transferred to accounts identified only by code numbers. But it was the dates that made my blood run cold.
Three years ago. Two and a half years ago. Eighteen months ago. Payments that corresponded, with unsettling precision, to the timeline of my own conditioning at the Institute. And more recently—six months ago, four months ago, two months ago—payments that aligned with the "consulting" trips Nathan had taken since we'd been together.
I photographed every page. Then I photographed the personnel files, the intelligence reports, the map of trafficking routes that covered half the east coast. By the time the USB drive beeped its completion signal, my phone's storage was nearly full and my hands were trembling with the effort of keeping my breathing steady.
Don't jump to conclusions,I told myself.Wait for proof. Wait for something undeniable.
But the photograph of Nathan and Gabriel as children was still hidden in my underwear drawer, and the name "Cross" was still echoing in my memory from Volosin's dying confession, and the pieces were assembling themselves into a picture I desperately didn't want to see.
I removed the USB drive, closed the laptop, and locked the study door behind me. The key went back into Nathan's nightstand. My phone went into my pocket. And the smile I'd been practicing for weeks went back onto my face.
By the time Nathan came home, I was in the kitchen, seasoning salmon fillets and chopping vegetables for the dinner I'd planned. The domestic tableau was perfect—candles flickering on the table, wine breathing in its decanter, soft jazz playing from the speakers. I'd even changed into the dress he liked best, a pale blue sundress with thin straps that made my shoulders look delicate.
"There she is," he said, setting down his briefcase. "Something smells incredible."
"Lemon dill salmon. Your favorite." I tilted my face up for his kiss, and he gave it freely—warm, possessive, everything a fiancé should be. "How was the meeting?"
"Productive." He loosened his tie, watching me move around the kitchen. "New client, corporate security consultation. Should be a good contract."
"That's wonderful." I poured him a glass of wine—the Pinot Noir he'd been saving for a special occasion—and handed it to him with a smile that had become second nature. "You work so hard for us."
"For you." He took a sip, his eyes never leaving mine. "Everything I do is for you."
The words should have been romantic. Instead, they made me think of the ledgers. The payments. The timeline that aligned so perfectly with my own destruction.
Everything I do is for you.
Including, perhaps, the things I was only beginning to understand.
Dinner was an exercise in performance. I asked about his meeting—the details he was willing to share, the clients he'd be working with, the timeline for the project. He asked about my day—the bar shift I'd taken to cover Matt's inventory, the book I was reading, the walk I'd gone on through the park. We talked about wedding plans, honeymoon destinations, the house we'd buy someday with a garden and a study and a nursery.
It was all so beautiful. So perfectly constructed. So exactly what I'd wanted to believe.
After dinner, I led him to the bedroom with a hand gentle on his wrist. "You've been working so hard," I murmured. "Let me take care of you tonight."
He didn't argue. He never argued when I offered to take the lead—another pattern I'd catalogued, another weakness I'd learned to exploit. I undressed him slowly, letting my fingers trail across his skin with deliberate reverence. The scars on his chest. The muscle of his shoulders. The trail of dark hair that disappeared beneath his waistband.
"Lie back," I said, pressing him onto the mattress. "Just relax. Let me do everything."
I started at his neck, pressing soft kisses along the line of his jaw, feeling the stubble scrape against my lips. My hands moved across his chest, tracing patterns that made his breath catch, finding the places where his body responded most intensely. I'd memorized these places over months of careful observation—the spot behind his left ear, the curve of his collarbone, the sensitive skin just above his hip bone.
"God, Bunny." His voice was already rough. "You're incredible."
"I know." I smiled against his skin. "That's why you love me."
