Page 122 of Twins for Three Bad Boys

I step closer. “How interesting?”

“Several reports,” he says, tapping the screen, “different parent names… same device. Same origin point. Same browser fingerprint.”

“A pattern.”

“A very lazy one,” Pike replies. “If you’re going to fabricate moral outrage, at least vary your hardware.”

“Can you trace it?”

“I can narrow it.” He cracks his neck. “It’s either a shared home network or someone who doesn’t understand how metadata works.”

“Or,” I say slowly, “someone manufacturing volume.”

He nods once. “That would be my working theory.”

“Any sign of her ex?” I ask.

Pike types again, faster this time.

“Name?”

I give it to him.

He pulls up social profiles, cross-references locations, checks timestamps, assembling a puzzle in real time.

“Not directly tied yet,” he says. “But I’m seeing overlap in geographic pings. Same general area.”

He swivels to look at me fully now.

“You asking because you want reassurance,” he says, “or because you want truth?”

“Both.”

He studies me for longer than is comfortable.

“There’s no proof in these reports,” he says. “No documented incidents. No corroborating statements. Just allegations. Repetition masquerading as evidence.”

Smoke.

But no fire.

“She doesn’t strike me as reckless,” Pike adds. “From the little I’ve seen of her.”

“She’s not,” I say.

He nods slowly. “Then someone wanted her gone. Or someone wanted to weaken her position somewhere else.”

My mind goes to Wayne. To Evan. To the email landing exactly when everything between us is fragile.

“She’s building something here,” I say. “We all are.”

Pike leans back, folding his arms.

“Ah,” he says. “So this is romantic infrastructure protection.”

I glare at him.

He shrugs. “I’m just labeling the emotional stakes.”