Fault Lines
The penthouse felt different at night.
Quieter.
More dangerous.
The city glittered below like it was watching them.
Alexander hadn't moved since showing her the email.
The screen still glowed in his hand.
CONGRATULATIONS ON THE ENGAGEMENT. I WONDER IF SHE KNOWS THE TRUTH.
Attached: financial transfers.
Dated four years ago.
Thomas Carter Technologies.
Evelyn forced her breathing to remain steady.
Slow.
Measured.
"What is this?" Alexander asked quietly.
His voice wasn't angry.
That was worse.
It was controlled.
"I don't know," she replied.
Not entirely a lie.
She hadn't known about those transfers specifically.
But she had known there was more.
He stepped closer.
Not aggressively.
Deliberately.
"You said you researched Reed Dynamics," he said. "So why does your father's company appear in a confidential internal transaction?"
The words hit like ice water.
Her father.
So he did recognize the name.
The room seemed smaller suddenly.
"Because," she said carefully, "your company acquired several smaller cybersecurity firms during that period."
"That wasn't an acquisition."
His eyes hardened.
"That was a liquidation."
Silence.
She hadn't expected that.
Her father had always called it a hostile acquisition.
Not liquidation.
Alexander studied her face.
Watching.
Calculating.
"You knew," he said slowly.
It wasn't a question.
Her pulse pounded.
Say it.
Deny it.
Control the narrative.
"Yes," she said quietly.
The truth cracked the air between them.
His jaw tightened.
"You approached me knowing this."
"Yes."
"For what?" His voice dropped. "Access?"
"For answers."
The word landed raw.
Honest.
He took another step forward.
Now they were close enough that she could feel the tension radiating off him.
"You're telling me," he said, "that this entire engagement started because of a four-year-old liquidation?"
"My father lost everything."
"And you think I did it?"
"Didn't you?"
The question hung between them.
Sharp.
Alexander's expression shifted not guilt.
Not defensiveness.
Something more complicated.
"No," he said.
The certainty in his voice made her hesitate.
"I didn't even know your name until two days ago."
"Your company"
"My father's company," he corrected sharply.
The first crack in his composure.
"He ran operations then. Not me."
The silence that followed felt seismic.
Evelyn's entire revenge blueprint had been built around one assumption.
Alexander Reed destroyed my father.
But what if
"No," she whispered.
Alexander ran a hand through his hair frustration bleeding through.
"Daniel Cross chaired the oversight committee on those liquidations," he said. "I wasn't even in Canada half that year."
Her stomach dropped.
Daniel.
The board dinner.
The probing questions.
The subtle interrogation.
Her chest tightened.
"You're saying you had nothing to do with it?" she asked.
"I'm saying if someone manipulated that acquisition, it wasn't me."
The email.
The timing.
The leak.
Someone wanted this exposed tonight.
Not publicly.
Privately.
Between them.
"You think someone sent this to turn us against each other," she said slowly.
"Yes."
A beat.
"And they're succeeding."
The words hit harder than they should have.
Because beneath the anger, beneath the deception, there was something else now.
A fracture.
She stepped back.
Putting space between them.
"You should end the contract," she said quietly.
Alexander's gaze snapped to hers.
"What?"
"You added a clause for emotional compromise. This qualifies as strategic risk."
"This isn't emotional," he said sharply.
"Isn't it?"
Her voice trembled just slightly.
Damn it.
Control.
"Everything about this is personal."
He walked toward her again.
Faster this time.
"You think I would marry someone connected to a hostile takeover without checking?" he demanded.
"Did you check?" she shot back.
"Yes."
Her breath caught.
"And?"
"And the records were sealed under internal board authority. Signed off by Daniel Cross."
The name echoed between them.
Pieces were shifting.
Rearranging.
Dangerously.
Evelyn felt it then the ground moving beneath her certainty.
"If you're lying," she said quietly, "I will destroy you."
The threat wasn't dramatic.
It was steady.
He stepped into her space fully now.
Close enough that her back nearly brushed the cold glass window.
"And if you're wrong?" he asked.
Her pulse hammered.
"I'm not wrong."
His hand braced against the glass beside her head.
Not trapping.
But anchoring.
"You walked into my life with a hidden agenda," he said, voice low. "And you're accusing me of betrayal?"
"I never betrayed you."
"You didn't tell me the truth."
"Neither did you!"
The words echoed in the open space.
Silence crashed down after.
They were breathing harder now.
Too close.
Too aware.
The city lights reflected in his eyes.
"You want the truth?" he said quietly.
"Yes."
"I didn't know who your father was."
His voice softened just slightly.
"But I know what it's like to watch a corporation ruin someone you love."
Her anger faltered.
"What?"
"My father built Reed Dynamics," he said. "And nearly destroyed himself doing it."
For a split second, she saw something vulnerable beneath the CEO exterior.
Something human.
The space between them shifted.
Not safer.
Just different.
Her heart was pounding for reasons that weren't entirely rage anymore.
"This was supposed to be controlled," she whispered.
"It still can be."
"Not if we don't know who the enemy is."
His hand lowered slowly from the glass.
But he didn't step back.
Instead, his fingers brushed hers.
Accidental.
Or not.
The contact sent heat through her veins.
Electric.
Unplanned.
They both felt it.
The shift.
The contract had been strategy.
This
This was something else.
"You should hate me," he said quietly.
"I tried."
"And?"
Her breath hitched.
"I'm not sure anymore."
The admission cracked the tension wide open.
His gaze dropped briefly to her lips.
Then back to her eyes.
"Clause Seventeen," he murmured.
"No emotional attachment."
Her heart slammed.
"We're still within compliance," she said softly.
"Barely."
The distance between them disappeared entirely.
Not a kiss.
Not yet.
But the air was charged with it.
"If this is manipulation," he said, voice low, "it's effective."
"It's not."
She didn't even know if that was true anymore.
Outside, snow lashed harder against the glass.
Inside, the war lines were blurring.
He reached up slowly giving her time to move away.
She didn't.
His fingers brushed her jaw.
Gentle.
Testing.
"You walked in here planning to dismantle me," he said.
"Yes."
"And now?"
Her pulse thundered.
"Now I think someone is dismantling both of us."
Silence.
Then
His phone buzzed again.
The spell shattered.
Another message.
From an unknown sender.
NEXT FILE RELEASES IN 24 HOURS.
Attached:
Board meeting transcript.
Four years ago.
Signed by Daniel Cross.
And Jonathan Reed.
Alexander's father.
The night was far from over.
And neither of them were sleeping.