The message followed me into sleep. I woke with my heart racing, phone clutched tight. Nothing appeared on the screen, which felt worse.
By the time I reached the office, London was moving fast. I unlocked the door carefully, scanning the hallway. Paranoia had become part of my system.
Liam was already there, shoulders hunched over his desk. Coffee sat untouched, eyes locked on his monitor. He looked up when I entered, relief flickering briefly.
"We have traffic anomalies hitting our endpoints," he said.
"They're mapping behavior, not attacking yet," I replied.
We worked side by side without speaking. Urgency stitched us together despite the fractures. Every line of code felt like defense. Still, I felt exposed in ways encryption couldn't fix.
Midmorning, an investor request landed in our inbox. Unsolicited and disturbingly specific. They referenced PayFlow's adaptive routing logic using our internal documentation language. My stomach twisted as I read it three times.
"They know too much about our system," I said.
Liam leaned over my shoulder, tension radiating from him. The heat of his body pressed close behind mine. I felt his breath on my neck as he read.
"This isn't coincidence anymore," he said quietly.
"No, this is extraction," I agreed.
His hand braced against my desk, knuckles white. Close enough that his arm brushed mine. The contact sent electricity through me despite everything falling apart. I shifted slightly, not away but not closer either.
We debated shutting everything down temporarily. But retreat would only confirm vulnerability to whoever watched.
Later, Ashley called.
"I heard things about PayFlow," she said.
"From where?" I asked.
"Channels that shouldn't know you exist." Her voice stayed calm. "You have a leak."
"I know, we're trying to contain it."
After the call ended, silence pressed down.
"You trust her," Liam said.
"Yes, do you?" I replied.
He hesitated, and the pause spoke volumes.
"That hesitation matters," I said quietly.
"It's complicated," he replied.
"So does betrayal," I said.
The argument that followed lived in tone rather than volume. Every word carried weight sharpened by fear and proximity. We stood too close, anger crackling between us like static.
"You think I'm the weak link," he said finally.
"I think someone believes you might be," I replied.
His expression hardened as he stepped closer. "You're saying the same thing."
"No, I'm saying they know where to apply pressure."
He moved until we stood inches apart. Anger bled through his restraint, his chest rising and falling hard. I could feel the heat radiating off him. Something dangerous flickered in his eyes, something that wasn't just anger.
"You think I would sell this out?" he asked.
"I think you're being tested," I said. "And I don't know how."
His jaw clenched. "You're afraid of me."
"I'm afraid for us," I replied. "Those aren't the same."
The air between us felt charged with something beyond conflict. His eyes dropped to my mouth briefly before snapping back up. My pulse hammered in my throat where I knew he could see it.
Neither of us moved for several long seconds.
Then he turned away abruptly, breaking the tension. He grabbed his jacket and left without another word.
I stayed there breathing hard, my body still humming. The room felt smaller without him, the walls pressing closer. I touched my neck where his breath had been.
That night I returned to the mansion. At dinner, conversation felt rehearsed, politeness stretched thin.
Maria watched me too closely.
"You seem distracted lately," she said.
"Something like that," I replied.
"You know, people talk." She smiled faintly. "Especially when money and innovation collide."
My fork paused.
"Who talks?" I asked.
"Important people," she said.
Later, in my room, my phone buzzed.
This time, the message included an attachment.
A partial diagram opened on my screen. Unmistakably ours, annotated in a hand that wasn't mine. Notes circled vulnerabilities I'd never disclosed. Weaknesses only someone close would recognize.
My breath caught painfully.
Another message followed immediately.
We prefer cooperation to conflict. Talk to your partner.
I stared at the screen until my vision blurred. Realization crashed through denial with brutal clarity. Someone had chosen a side for me. They believed Liam stood opposite mine.
I sat on the edge of the bed, shaking. Whatever came next would tear something vital apart.
My phone rang. Liam's name flashed across the screen.
I answered without thinking.
"Don't say anything, just listen," he said. "Someone just approached me outside my flat."
My chest constricted painfully.
"They offered me money to walk away."
"What did you say?" I asked.
"I told them no, but they knew things." His breathing came faster. "They knew about my sister's medical bills."
I closed my eyes, dread pooling.
"They said if I don't cooperate, they'll make sure you blame me." His voice dropped. "They said you already do."
"I don't—" I started.
"Don't lie to me right now," he interrupted.
The silence stretched between us.
"Where are you now?" I asked.
"Walking, trying to think," he said. "They gave me forty-eight hours."
"Decide what exactly?" I pressed.
"Whether to give them everything or watch it taken." He laughed bitterly. "Either way, we lose."
"We don't have to lose," I said.
"Yes, we do," he replied.
I heard footsteps in the background. His breathing changed suddenly, became sharper.
"Liam?" I said.
"They're still following me," he whispered. "I see the same car."
My pulse spiked hard.
"Get somewhere public, somewhere with people," I said.
"I'm trying, but—" His voice cut off.
"Liam?" I said louder.
The line stayed open but silent.
"Liam, answer me right now," I demanded.
I heard muffled sounds, voices, movement. Then a different voice came through. Smooth and calm and terrifyingly familiar.
"Hello Daisy," Maria said. "Your partner and I need to have a conversation."
The line went dead.