Chapter 4
I wanted to drive straight to Nia's apartment.
I wanted to ask her how she could do this.
I wanted to demand an explanation.
But Angela stopped me.
"Malik, don't confront anyone yet."
I stood in the conference room, my hands shaking.
"She used my computer."
Angela nodded.
"The evidence suggests a file was transferred through a guest session on your home network."
I stared at her.
"To Devon."
"Yes."
My chest tightened.
"Then what more do we need?"
She took a breath.
"We need to establish who accessed the session and whether the transfer was authorized."
I looked away.
She was right.
Anger wasn't evidence.
And I had worked too hard to let personal betrayal make me careless.
Andre stood beside me.
"Let Angela handle it."
I nodded slowly.
"Okay."
We preserved the available logs.
Restricted affected systems.
Reviewed access permissions.
And contacted an outside cybersecurity firm.
Angela also advised the company to document the incident without circulating accusations.
I agreed.
Then I went home.
For the first time, my apartment didn't feel safe.
Not because someone had broken in.
Because someone I'd trusted had apparently used access I gave her.
I changed my locks.
Reset my passwords.
Reviewed my accounts.
And removed Nia's access to shared services.
Each step hurt.
Not because it was difficult.
Because it reminded me how much of my life we'd shared.
The streaming account.
The grocery delivery membership.
The little photo folder filled with vacations.
Even the calendar where we'd planned our future.
I stared at the calendar.
A reminder appeared.
"Graduation celebration. Proposal."
I deleted it.
Then sat quietly.
My phone rang.
Arthur.
I answered.
"Hello?"
His voice sounded tired.
"Malik, how are you?"
I almost laughed.
"I've been better."
He sighed.
"I know."
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
Then he said, "Nia came home last night."
My stomach tightened.
"And?"
"She was crying."
I looked down.
Arthur continued.
"She told me she didn't understand why you never told her about Harrington."
I closed my eyes.
"Did she mention Devon?"
He hesitated.
"Yes."
"What did she say?"
"That he made promises."
My chest tightened.
"What promises?"
Arthur sighed.
"He told her he'd help her build a consulting career."
I stared at the wall.
"And she believed him?"
"Apparently."
I shook my head.
Arthur continued.
"Malik, I need to apologize."
I frowned.
"Why?"
"Because I knew she was becoming obsessed with money."
I remained silent.
He took a breath.
"After her mother died, Nia became afraid of struggling."
My chest softened slightly.
Nia's mother, Patricia, died when Nia was twenty-four.
She'd worked two jobs.
They never had much.
Nia told me she hated watching her mother worry about bills.
I understood that fear.
But I hadn't understood how deeply it shaped her choices.
Arthur continued.
"I tried telling her that financial success doesn't guarantee happiness."
I nodded.
"She used to believe that."
He sighed.
"I know."
Then his voice changed.
"There's something else."
My stomach tightened.
"What?"
"Devon contacted me again."
I sat upright.
"When?"
"This morning."
"What did he want?"
Arthur hesitated.
"He asked whether I could persuade you to withdraw your objection to his investment proposal."
I stared at the wall.
I hadn't publicly objected to anything.
Harrington's legal team had simply requested clarification about the unauthorized endorsement.
Devon apparently knew questions were being asked.
"What did you say?"
Arthur's voice hardened.
"I told him to contact your company's attorneys."
I exhaled.
"Thank you."
Then he added something unexpected.
"He threatened to expose information about your private finances."
I froze.
"What?"
Arthur sounded furious.
"He said people would be interested to learn how much money you actually control."
My stomach tightened.
Devon wanted leverage.
And he believed my privacy was something he could use against me.
I took a slow breath.
"Did he say what he wanted in exchange?"
Arthur hesitated.
"He wanted the company to consider his partnership."
I closed my eyes.
"That's not happening."
"I assumed not."
Then Arthur whispered, "Malik, be careful."
I stared toward the window.
"I will."
After ending the call, I forwarded the information to Angela.
She documented it.
Then advised that future communications with Devon go through counsel.
I agreed.
But the threats kept coming.
That evening, an anonymous social media account posted photographs of my apartment.
My truck.
My workplace.
And an old picture of Nia and me.
The caption read:
"Successful tech executive pretends to be poor while secretly funding his girlfriend's life."
I stared at the screen.
Within hours, strangers began commenting.
Some called me generous.
Others called me manipulative.
A few accused me of trying to buy Nia's love.
I felt sick.
I'd never wanted attention.
Now my private life was being turned into entertainment.
Andre called.
"Don't respond."
I rubbed my face.
"I'm trying."
He continued.
"We'll handle any false claims through proper channels."
I nodded.
Then my phone vibrated.
A message from Nia.
"Malik, I didn't post those pictures."
I stared at it.
Another message appeared.
"Devon has access to things I gave him."
My heart tightened.
I typed a response.
"What things?"
Three dots appeared.
Disappeared.
Then returned.
Finally, her answer arrived.
"Pictures, messages, and some documents from your apartment."
I closed my eyes.
She had given another man pieces of my private life.
Then another message came.
"Malik, I think Devon is using me."
I stared at the screen.
For a moment, I felt angry.
Then sad.
Then exhausted.
I typed one final response.
"Tell Angela everything you know. Do not contact me directly about the investigation."
I sent it.
Then turned off my phone.
I sat in silence for a long time.
Finally, I walked into the kitchen.
The roses from graduation were still sitting in a bucket.
I'd brought them inside because throwing them away felt impossible.
Now their petals were beginning to fall.
I picked up the bouquet.
Carried it outside.
And placed it in the trash.
For the first time, I felt the weight of the relationship leaving my hands.
But the following morning, Angela called with news.
The outside cybersecurity team had found a second transfer.
This one included internal product design information.
And it had been sent to an account associated with a company competing against Harrington Systems.
I felt cold.
"Who owns that company?"
Angela took a breath.
"Devon Brooks is listed as an adviser."
I stared at the wall.
Because now this wasn't simply about a dishonest investment proposal.
May you like
Someone may have been trying to sell our company's confidential work to a competitor.
And I knew the people who could be hurt were not just me and Nia.
