Julian arrived with wine and bread and something in his eyes I couldn't read.
"You cooked," he said, looking at the pan.
"I cooked."
He sat at my small counter. I put the steak in. It hissed.
"How are you?" he asked.
"Fine."
"Really?"
I flipped the steak. "She's pathetic. Not evil. Just pathetic. Empty. All that content, all those followers, and nothing inside."
"That's worse?"
"Different. Easier, maybe. Evil you can hate. Empty you just... pity."
He nodded. Watched me cook.
"She took the deal. Ten years."
"I saw."
"Dorian got nine."
"I saw that too."
The steak finished. I plated it. Cut it. Juices ran pink.
We ate in comfortable silence. The city outside. The pan cooling on the stove.
Halfway through, Julian said: "My mother called."
"Yeah?"
"She's not ready to forgive me. But she's talking. Small things. How's work. Did you eat. That kind of thing."
"That's progress."
"It's something."
We finished eating. I cleared the plates. Opened the wine he'd brought.
On the couch now. City view. Two glasses.
"Can I ask you something?" he said.
"Sure."
"Why me? Why, out of everyone, did you come to me?"
I thought about it.
"Because you were the only one who could do something. The police couldn't. The media wouldn't. You could. And I thought—" I stopped.
"Thought what?"
"I thought you might understand. Being betrayed by someone you're supposed to trust."
He looked at me. Gray eyes. Unreadable.
"I did understand."
"That's why."
He nodded. Drank his wine.
"I have something for you," he said.
He pulled out an envelope. Plain. White. Handed it to me.
I opened it.
Papers. Legal documents. My name at the top.
"What is this?"
"Full ownership of the encryption protocol. Your name. Your rights. You developed it. You should own it."
I stared at him.
"Julian, this is—"
"It's fair. You did the work. I just provided the infrastructure. The company will license it from you. Standard terms. You'll get royalties."
"I don't know what to say."
"Say yes. Then sign it."
I looked at the papers. My name. My work. My future.
"Why?"
"Because you're not an employee, Mara. You're a partner. I just realized it before you did."
I set the papers down. Looked at him.
"You're a good man, Julian Croft."
"I'm trying to be."
We sat there. City lights. Wine. The papers on the table.
After a while, he said: "I should go."
"Stay."
He looked at me.
"I mean it. Stay. The couch is comfortable."
He almost smiled. "The couch?"
"The couch. Not a date. Just—company."
He nodded. Settled back.
I got a blanket. A pillow. Put them on the couch.
"Goodnight, Julian."
"Goodnight, Mara."
I went to my room. Left the door open a crack.
Slept better than I had in months.