While she was lost in her thoughts, smiling without even realizing it, he cleared his throat and said, "Do you mind if I ask you something?"
She jumped a bit and replied, "Yeah, sure, go ahead."
He said, "I know you're not being honest with me."
Trying to deflect, she replied, "Did I ask you anything about yourself?"
He stared at her seriously. "No, but I saved you. You're living in my cabin, eating and sleeping here. You're wearing my sister's clothes, and I heard you screaming in your sleep, saying, 'Don't touch her.' If that's your truth, then what was that scream all about? You didn't bother to ask me anything. Want to tell me what you're hiding?"
Her face turned pale as she processed his words. She had been screaming in her sleep. She opened her mouth to respond, but closed it again.
He took a step closer, and she instinctively took a step back. He followed her in again, and once again, she retreated. When he got closer this time, her back hit the counter. He moved even closer, bracing one hand on the counter while grabbing her around the waist with the other, shaking her slightly. "Now, tell me what you really are, a runaway hacker or something else? Because the look on your face and the fear in your eyes say there's more going on here."
Her breath caught in her throat as he held her waist tightly. It wasn't painful, but it was firm enough to show that he wasn't asking anymore; he was demanding answers. His gaze dug into hers, looking for any signs that she might crack under the pressure.
Her lips quivered, but she couldn't find the words.
"Speak," he urged, his voice low and kinda threatening. "Or do you want me to figure this out on my own?"
She shook her head quickly but didn't push him away. Inside her, a voice was screaming for some space, but another part of her, softer, yet stubborn, kept her right where she was. She really wanted to just spill everything, to drop the heavy stuff weighing on her chest, but fear held her back. What if he reacted badly? What if he already knew everything, since the news had been all over the place? Or what if he told someone else that she was there? The thought sent a chill through her.
And then there were the memories, all those nagging reminders from her past clawing to break free, threatening to pull her under. The urge to talk battled against the fear that kept her glued to the spot, unsure of what would happen if she opened up.
His expression hardened as she stayed quiet. "You really think you can hide forever?
Pretending isn't going to make your nightmares just vanish. I heard you last night. Don't think I didn't notice, because I did."
Her throat felt tight, and the sting of tears pricked at her eyes. "I—" The word stumbled out, weak. She swallowed hard and tried again. "I'm... I'm telling you the truth. I didn't lie."
Her voice shook, sounding thin and fragile, as if it might shatter under the weight of his gaze. He leaned in closer, his breath warm against her cheek. "Look me in the eyes and say that again."
Her heart raced so loudly she thought he could hear it. She forced herself to meet his gaze, even though her hands were shaking at her sides. "I'm telling you the truth," she whispered, trying to keep it together.
For a long moment, he studied her face, catching every little twitch and flicker of emotion.
The silence felt heavy and overwhelming, and she thought she might crumble under it.
Then he let out a humorless chuckle, low and bitter. "You're a terrible liar."
His words stung, even though she knew it was true. "I'm not lying—"
"Yes, you are." His voice cut through the air, firm and final. He slammed his hand against the counter beside her, making her flinch. "Your eyes give you away. Your silence gives you away. The way you shake every time I ask…"
His jaw tightened. "You're hiding something, and whatever it is, it's enough to scare you to your core."
She pressed back against the counter, wishing it could just swallow her whole. She wanted to disappear, to escape his gaze, but his presence was like a shadow weighing her down.
"I don't know what you think you see," she whispered, her voice trembling. "But I told you everything. That's it. That's all."
His eyes darkened. "That's all?" He tilted his head, studying her like she was a puzzle missing pieces. "Because 'that's all' doesn't make a girl scream in her sleep. 'That's all' doesn't turn her pale as a ghost when I mention the word truth."
Tears filled her eyes, blurring his face. She shook her head, holding onto the only shield she had left. "I'm not lying to you."
"Then prove it," he snapped.
Her breath caught. Prove it? How could she, when the truth was a double-edged sword that could cut them both? Her silence dragged on too long, and he noticed. He could see the hesitation and the fear.
His lips curled in frustration, and he pulled back just enough to create space between them.
"You can't. Because everything you've said since I found you has been a half-truth at best."
He shook his head slowly. "And you think I'm going to trust a stranger?"
Her heart sank. He was right. She hadn't even shared her real name. She wrapped her arms around herself, trying to hold her secrets tight.
"I can't…" she whispered. "Please… just don't ask me anymore."
His expression hardened, but there was something else underneath the anger, a flicker of hurt. He turned away, running a hand through his hair in frustration.
"One day," he muttered, facing away from her, "you'll realize that staying silent won't save you. And when that day comes… I hope it's not too late."
Her chest ached at his words, but she stayed quiet, biting her trembling lip. Because even if she wanted to trust him, she couldn't, not yet.
Not when the truth could tear them apart.
*********
Now for the real work.
Investigation: Michael Arthur.
She opened the sandbox again, and the man's face popped up on the screen. Late thirties, with thick brows and a charming grin, he looked like the perfect dad and husband. He was clean-shaven and calm, but there was something about him that felt familiar, even though she couldn't quite place him.
Determined to find out more, she tapped into street cameras, private servers, phone towers, and mirrored signals to track his movements. Soon enough, she found out he was married and had an eight-year-old daughter. GhostNet showed that he hadn't changed his identity in the last ten years. Maybe that was why he was still married now.
But still, the first day's results came back looking pretty normal.
Maybe too normal for a man like him, who's a businessman.
Breakfast was right at 7:12 AM, and he had a simple meal: oats, a boiled egg, and an avocado sliced up nicely.
At 8:00 AM, he dropped his eight-year-old daughter off at school, her little backpack bouncing as she waved goodbye with a smile.
His workday was just as mundane, full of routine meetings, numerous emails, and endless tasks. The surveillance footage showed him in the office until noon, sitting at his desk with two computer monitors, focused on completing his work.