Chapter 17
LYRA
Isit in front of the monitor, fingers hovering over the keyboard, watching lines of code blur into unreadable patterns.
I’ve been staring at the same function for the past ten minutes, trying to decide whether to rewrite it or leave it as is.
I know what the code needs to do. That isn’t the problem.
The problem is why it needs to do it at all.
I’m not stupid. Ever since Becca told me who Damien really is, I’ve started looking at everything our company does through a new lens.
Damien has been careful with his words, tossing out phrases like “high-priority client” and “secure environments,” but this is military-level anti-jamming technology.
No average business is asking for a custom override protocol capable of hijacking encrypted frequencies.
This is not about fixing bugs or helping someone improve their Bluetooth connectivity.
This is surveillance. Full-blown, illegal, invasive surveillance.
My hands finally settle on the keys, muscle memory taking over as I begin modifying the database signature layer. I know I shouldn’t do this. I could report it to the authorities. But even as the thought forms, I already know I won’t.
I have his baby growing inside me. No matter who he is or what he does, we are linked together in a way that can’t ever be untangled.
My stomach twists as the weight of that truth settles in again.
I still haven’t told him. I’ve barely come to terms with it myself.
It’s been a month since my doctor’s appointment, and every day since, I’ve told myself I’ll figure out what to do tomorrow.
But tomorrow keeps coming and going, and the truth is, I don’t have a plan.
I’m just floating in this in-between space, hoping the right answer will show up if I wait long enough.
It hasn’t yet.
And now, with the truth of who Damien is hanging heavy over me, I’m not sure how to tell him. Maybe it would be better to run the other way and pray he doesn’t come looking for me.
I exhale and shake my head, saving the current version of the program and pulling up the next module.
A quiet knock on my cubicle wall breaks my concentration. I turn and find one of my coworkers, Kara, standing there.
“Hey,” she says, eyes flicking to my monitor. “You’ve been buried in that file for hours. Need a break?”
I click the screen off and shrug.
“I would love to, but this is a special project I’ve been assigned,” I tell her, keeping it vague on purpose. “It’s got a very tight deadline, so I can’t really stop.”
Kara raises a brow at this. Maybe I’ve said too much without meaning to. We don’t usually get special projects.
“What is it?”
“Oh, just some custom software for a high-level client,” I say, keeping my tone casual.
Her mouth presses into a thin line, and I catch the moment her expression changes. It looks like jealousy. If nothing else, she’s read between the lines that this task came directly from the top. And considering I’m still the new girl here, I imagine that doesn’t sit right with her.
If I weren’t so stressed about everything else, I’d probably worry about this, but I don’t have the bandwidth for it.
She nods once. “Right,” she says, a slight edge in her voice. “Well, if you want to grab a coffee any time, just let me know.”
Her words sound kind, but her tone is cold. I’ve gone from potential friend to direct competitor. Then again, she may be acting weird because she knows the truth about who Damien is.
I’ve started to wonder lately if everyone knows and the joke has always been on me.
Once I learned the truth, it became obvious.
I noticed the extra cameras in the hallways.
I paid more attention to the high level of encryption on all our email.
And it struck me as odd how much security we have for a tech firm.
I lean back in my chair and press a hand to my stomach. I’m not showing yet, but there’s a tightness in my pants that wasn’t there before. Soon it will be something I won’t be able to hide. Not from my coworkers, and definitely not from Damien.
That means I have two choices. I can either tell him, or I can start the process of finding a new job.
Neither feels like a particularly good option.
I pull up the code again, trying to distract myself, but my fingers don’t move. I sit there, staring at the screen, feeling a wave of anxiety. If I tell him, will he want the baby? Will he be angry I didn’t say something sooner?
Do I even want him to know? Do I want to be with a man who is potentially dangerous? A man who asks me to create listening software that the NSA would be afraid of?
Plus, if anyone were to find out about this little program I’m working on, Damien would probably be arrested. I don’t want that. If nothing else, I don’t want the father of my child to go to jail.
I do care about him. Even after everything I know, he’s rooted his way so deeply into my heart that I don’t think I could stop caring about him if I tried. But I also don’t want to become someone I don’t recognize, and that’s exactly what’s happening to me.
I rub my temples and close my eyes. It wasn’t supposed to be like this.
The cursor on the screen blinks like it’s waiting for me to make a decision.
Write the next line. Complete the next block.
Finish the system that will help him listen in on someone.
Or I can walk away from this. I can put an end to this right now, tell him I can’t complete the code, and leave this job forever.
I don’t want to be responsible for what happens with this software. I don’t know what damage this program might inflict. Then again, if I don’t do it, someone else might come along and build something even worse.
I start typing again, forcing myself to focus. I already crossed the line by saying yes. I’ve already committed to this. Finishing it is the least I can do.
Hours pass without me noticing. The office gets quieter, the soft hum of machines fading into the background.
Most of the staff has gone home by now, and the overhead lights have dimmed automatically.
I don’t realize how late it is until my phone buzzes with a low-battery warning.
I glance at the clock and see it’s almost nine. I’ve completely lost track of time.
I sit back, rub my eyes, then save my progress and lock the files behind biometric encryption. Only Damien and I have access. No one else can open them.
I gather my things and step into the hallway. It’s dark and still, making my footsteps echo louder than they should. I pass the break room, the main conference space, and the wall of glass that overlooks the city. The lights from the skyline glitter like a sea of eyes. Watching. Waiting.
When I get to the elevator, I pause. My reflection in the metal doors looks different somehow.
A little more tired. A little more uncertain.
I touch my stomach again, barely breathing.
One way or another, this secret won’t stay hidden for long.
I just hope I can figure out what to do before everything changes.
I toss and turn that night, arguing with myself about what I should do. Finally, I fall into a fitful sleep, and when I wake up, the answer has come to me so clearly I almost laugh.
I get to the office before the sun rises and sit at my desk.
I have a steaming cup of tea next to me, but I already know that by the time I drink it, it’ll be lukewarm.
I’m too lost in this project to pay much attention to anything else.
I hardly look up as people start to trickle in, and I ignore all my emails. All I can focus on is the code.
Because I’m not just building what Damien asked for anymore. I’m building something else, too.
A way in. A door only I can see.
I want to know what he’s doing. I want to hear the things he doesn’t tell me, see the choices he makes when no one’s watching. I want to know the kind of man my child’s father will be, so I can decide whether he even knows this child exists.
The back door is subtle and elegant, so well-hidden that only the most adept coder would even realize it’s there.
It’ll ping a secure relay server I’ve designed off-grid, one that only I can access.
From there, I can tap into the audio feed once the system goes live.
Whatever Damien hears, I’ll hear too. And then I can have a better idea of what I’m getting myself into.
It’s wrong. I know that. But this whole situation is wrong. Damien’s job is dangerous and could put me in harm’s way. And I don’t just have my own safety to worry about anymore. I have to safeguard my child’s future.
By Friday, the software is finished. I run the last round of internal diagnostics and encrypt the final build.
Then I close the lid of my laptop, sit back in my chair, and press a hand to my abdomen.
I refuse to feel guilty about what I’ve done.
Damien kept something major from me. I’ve just leveled the playing field.
When I walk into Damien’s office, he’s standing by the windows, looking out over the city like it belongs to him. Hell, maybe it does. I have no way of truly understanding the world he occupies.
“The program is ready,” I say.
He turns to face me, eyes scanning my expression in a way that makes me queasy.
“That was faster than I expected,” he says with a smile. “Good work, Lyra.”
“If you’d like, I can test it for you. I’m pretty sure it’s perfect, but I haven’t seen it in action. Testing it will help me work out any bugs.”
His eyes flicker briefly with something I can’t place, then he stiffens.
“That’s okay, I’ll take it from here.”
I realize, of course, that he doesn’t want me to test it because he doesn’t want me to know what it’s really for. He trusts me to build the thing, but he doesn’t trust me with the truth about who he is and what he does.
“I’ll install it directly. I’ll let you know if we run into any bugs.”
My heart tightens, but I keep my face blank. I expected as much, but part of me hoped he would be forthcoming. I wanted him to be honest.
“Okay,” I say, handing him the flash drive. “Let me know how it goes.”
I walk out without another word.
Back at my desk, I log in to the secure server I’ve created. I name it something innocuous, project_archive_temp1, and wait.
Whatever Damien is up to, I’m going to get to the bottom of it.