Chapter 3
I drove straight to Harrington Systems.
Arthur followed in his car.
The roses lay on the passenger seat.
I couldn't bring myself to throw them away.
Not yet.
The ring box was in my pocket.
Every time I felt it, my chest tightened.
I'd spent the morning imagining a future with Nia.
Now I was driving toward a possible security breach involving the company I'd spent years building.
When I arrived, our legal director, Angela Brooks, was waiting.
She was forty-six, sharp-minded, and almost impossible to surprise.
That afternoon, she looked worried.
"Malik, we need to talk."
I followed her into the conference room.
My business partner, Andre Mitchell, sat beside a laptop.
Andre and I had known each other since college.
He was the closest thing I had to a brother.
When he saw my face, he stood.
"Man, what happened?"
I shook my head.
"Later."
Angela closed the door.
Then turned the laptop toward me.
"Devon Brooks's investment group submitted a proposal yesterday."
I frowned.
"I know."
She clicked a document.
"Attached were internal financial projections."
My stomach tightened.
I recognized them immediately.
Those numbers had been prepared for our board.
They included projected revenue, expansion costs, and confidential details about a medical safety product we hadn't announced.
I stared at the screen.
"Who sent these?"
Angela shook her head.
"That's what we're investigating."
Andre leaned forward.
"Only a small group had access."
I nodded.
"Board members. Finance. Legal."
Then I remembered something.
Three months earlier, Nia had visited my apartment while I worked from home.
I'd been preparing a presentation.
She asked whether she could print her resume.
I gave her access to my home printer.
My stomach twisted.
"Angela, could someone have copied files from my laptop?"
She looked at me.
"Possibly. But we need evidence."
I told them about Nia.
The breakup.
Devon.
The meeting request.
And Arthur's warning.
Andre stared at me.
"She left you for him?"
I nodded.
His expression darkened.
"After everything?"
I looked down.
"Yeah."
For a moment, he said nothing.
Then he placed a hand on my shoulder.
"I'm sorry, brother."
I swallowed.
"Thanks."
Angela remained focused.
"We need to preserve logs and review access."
I nodded.
"Do it."
She continued.
"We should also notify the relevant board members and determine whether the documents were obtained improperly."
I agreed.
I wasn't going to accuse Nia of stealing without evidence.
But I wasn't going to ignore the possibility either.
The company had employees.
Families.
Customers who depended on our systems.
This wasn't just about my broken heart.
It was about protecting people who trusted us.
That evening, I returned to my apartment.
I lived in a modest two-bedroom unit outside Atlanta.
Not because I couldn't afford something larger.
Because I liked my neighborhood.
I liked my neighbors.
And I liked the little garden outside my kitchen window.
Nia used to love the place.
At least, I thought she did.
I opened the door.
Everything looked familiar.
The gray sofa.
The bookshelves.
The framed photograph from our first vacation.
I stared at the picture.
Nia and I were standing beside the ocean.
She was laughing.
Her arms were wrapped around me.
For a moment, I wanted to believe the woman in that photograph was still real.
Then I remembered her laughing at my proposal.
I took the picture down.
Placed it in a drawer.
And sat on the floor.
That's when I finally cried.
Not quietly.
Not politely.
I cried until my chest hurt.
Five years.
Five birthdays.
Five Christmases.
A thousand ordinary moments.
And I had believed we were walking toward the same future.
Now I didn't know what had been real.
My phone rang.
Andre.
I answered.
"Yeah?"
His voice softened.
"You okay?"
I laughed bitterly.
"Not even close."
He was quiet.
Then said, "I'm coming over."
I shook my head.
"You don't have to."
"I know."
Twenty minutes later, he arrived carrying takeout.
We sat on the floor.
Ate noodles.
And talked.
I told him about the proposal.
About Nia's words.
About Devon's smile.
About Arthur revealing the tuition payments.
Andre listened.
Then asked something I wasn't prepared for.
"Why did you keep your ownership secret from her?"
I looked down.
"I didn't exactly hide it."
He waited.
I continued.
"She knew I was building something."
Andre nodded.
"But she didn't know the scale."
I sighed.
"No."
"Why?"
I thought carefully.
"Because money changed the way people treated my father."
Andre looked at me.
My father, Samuel Johnson, had owned a small repair shop.
When he earned a little success, relatives appeared asking for loans.
Friends expected favors.
People who barely knew him wanted investments.
Then his business failed during a recession.
Most of those people disappeared.
I watched him lose more than money.
He lost trust.
I promised myself I wouldn't build relationships around financial status.
So when Harrington became successful, I remained private.
I drove the same truck.
Wore ordinary clothes.
And avoided discussing my finances unless there was a reason.
Nia knew I was comfortable.
She knew my company had grown.
But she never asked meaningful questions about my work.
She mostly asked when I'd buy a better car.
Andre sighed.
"Malik, privacy is fine."
I nodded.
"But?"
"Someone you're planning to marry needs to know the truth about your life."
I looked down.
He was right.
I had planned to explain everything before the wedding.
I'd even prepared a folder containing my financial documents and a letter about our future.
But I wanted the proposal to be about love.
Not money.
Now there would be no wedding.
Andre placed a hand on my shoulder.
"Brother, her cheating isn't your fault."
I swallowed.
"I know."
"But next time, don't confuse being private with keeping someone outside your real life."
I nodded.
He was right about that too.
The following morning, Angela called.
Her voice sounded serious.
"Malik, we found something."
My stomach tightened.
"What?"
"One of the confidential files was downloaded through a temporary account."
I sat upright.
"Whose account?"
She hesitated.
"The login was created for a guest printing session."
My blood turned cold.
"When?"
"Three months ago."
I closed my eyes.
Nia.
Angela continued.
"That doesn't prove who made the download, but the session originated from your home network."
I couldn't speak.
Then she said something worse.
"The file transfer occurred while you were attending the Denver conference."
I remembered that week.
I'd asked Nia to water my plants while I was away.
She had a spare key.
She had access to my apartment.
And now a confidential company file had apparently been downloaded from my home while I was gone.
I stared at the wall.
Then Angela added one final detail.
"The recipient email address was registered to Devon Brooks."
May you like
My stomach dropped.
And suddenly, I realized Nia's betrayal might have begun long before she met me at graduation with another man's arm around her waist.
