Chapter 27
NATE
“Welcome back to the office, Boss!” Jay, the lead engineer on the Voltage Jet project, says as he steps into the waiting elevator. “And congratulations on the standing ovation!”
I nod in silent thanks as the doors close, but in all honesty, the praise is getting old.
The moment is over. What’s done is done. There’s no need to live in the past when we’re drowning in work in the present.
That’s become my one frustration since getting back to New York. Everywhere I go, I can’t seem to escape what was.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m more than grateful for the outcome at the Aviation Global Forum. Investors are suddenly crawling back—including Kamal Jameel, who threw millions at us like it was nothing. Stocks are slowly rising. The media is painting me in a better light.
For some unexplainable reasons, my reputation seems to have fixed itself overnight. And while that’s all great, we’ve got new problems to worry about. Forming a team to bring my idea to life and protecting it quickly enough not to get stolen from under us is number one.
My lawyer is still mad at me for that.
While Everett Staines still hasn’t gotten back to us regarding the SkyWay Airlines partnership, I’ve accepted it.
Archer Aviation will be plenty busy with this new project once we get it up and running.
It might require additional time to take our planes overseas, but it will come.
That’s the only trajectory when you consistently put in the work.
Obviously, I’m not going to complain about these things to an employee, so I say, “Anything new with the company since I’ve been gone?”
Though I’m kept updated on everything by the executives, it’s nice to chat with those who can give a more personal answer.
Being the brooding, unapproachable tech CEO has never been my intention. I consider myself an engineer, first and foremost, having dedicated countless hours—alongside the team—to the projects we tackle.
To some, Archer Aviation may just be a company, but for me, this was a passion project, and I wanted those who worked here to feel the same—to walk into their offices every day, knowing they’re bringing about positive change to the aviation industry.
The only way I can accomplish that is to find out what’s happening on their side of work when I’m not nearby.
Jay’s brows perk at the question, and his eyes dart to the elevator door in caution. “Actually, there’s been a rumor going around for the past few days.”
“Oh?” Surprise seeps through my voice. “What about?”
“I mean, I’m not sure how true this is, but a few people are saying it’s the intern who set off the spark at the showcase that night.”
My brows pinch in confusion.
Our interns were only ever contracted for the summer, with just a few kept around for the school year. The select who did stay were always deemed trustworthy.
“Do you have a name by any chance?”
“No clue.” Jay shrugs. “According to Martha, it was some tall, lanky kid in a green suit. She isn’t too sure about that, though—pregnancy brain and all.”
I nod along, trying my hardest to remember what went down that night, but nothing comes to mind. I’d been so stressed before the showcase that I hadn’t fully registered what was happening.
Now that Jay mentions it, I do feel slightly guilty that Martha went out on a spark. She stayed long enough to see her project through, then left for maternity leave shortly after.
Although I did visit her in the hospital to congratulate her on becoming a mother, she didn’t indulge in any of this information—understandable when you’re still riding the high of such a life-altering moment.
The elevator dings when I reach my floor.
“Thanks, man, I appreciate it.” I give Jay a pat on the back as I make my way out. “I’ll see you around. Don’t be scared to email if you’ve got any updates.”
He gives me a parting salute as the metal doors close.
Unease washes over me as I navigate the maze of executive offices to reach my own.
Usually, the rich, dark brown wood of the desk, floors, and the bookshelf at the far end would ground me in such a modern space, but today, it feels unexplainably cold. I collapse onto the leather seat behind my desk, replaying that conversation in my mind.
That was not on my list of things to do for the day.
I came into the office with two goals—to send my lawyer enough evidence to prove Carter stole my presentation, and to get through the thousands of emails piling up since the conference.
I thought the spark controversy was now old news, but clearly it isn’t.
With a shake of the head, I push the thought aside, proceeding with my first task of the day.
I scour everything we have on the project Carter stole—how far it dates back, our concept ideas, and the impending patent we hold. I pack it all into one email to my lawyer, getting her usual immediate reply of "Thank you. We’ll keep you updated," just as Melanie barges through my office doors.
“Good morning!” The dirty blonde chirps with a wide smile.
Her hair is down, and there’s no sharp pencil sticking out of her bun. Odd. I haven’t seen her this happy since before my reputation went to shit.
“What’s with the positive attitude?” I nod in her direction.
Melanie fakes a gasp, hand pressing over her heart. “Can’t a girl be joyous?”
“No,” I reply genuinely. “The last time we talked, you yelled at me, called me an imbecile, and threatened to point a high-pressure water gun at me if things don’t fix themselves. So, no, a girl can’t be happy.”
Melanie shrugs. “I guess this is the version of me you get when you’re not hated by everyone…don’t get used to it, though.” She gives me a pointed look, and I roll my eyes in disbelief.
A satisfied smirk tugs on her lips as she opens her laptop and swivels it around to show me those ridiculous tabloid articles. The PTSD from that time Adam forced me to read these is still very much present, but I do so, nonetheless.
Beauty and Brains: Why Women Can’t Get Enough of Nate Archer.
A compliment—but I’m not sure why that matters when they know I only care about one. I don’t dwell on it and move to the next article.
Standing Ovation? More like Scrambling to Get Our Lives Together—Here’s How Nate Archer Managed to Inspire Everyone at This Year’s Global Aviation Forum.
Then the next.
Lovebirds Celebrate—Power Couple, Nate Archer and Fiancée Enjoy a Private Moment After Stellar Presentation.
Melanie zooms in on the picture used for the front page of this article—Vivienne and I backstage, my hands cupping her face and our foreheads pressed together as we look into each other’s eyes.
It was a happy moment; one I thought would stay between us.
And while I do care about the invasion of privacy, it’s their use of “power couple” in the subtitle that baffles me.
Only days earlier, they had claimed our relationship was fake—but that just goes to show how quickly the narrative can shift when the media wants it to.
“Is this the reason you told me to stop planning the PR dates?” Melanie catches me off guard with her inquiry.
I meet her eyes straight on, unwavering. She clearly knows the answer to that question, and I’m not looking to entertain it. When a moment passes and I still haven’t answered, she shakes her head in disbelief, a wry smile tugging at her lips.
“Did I not warn you not to get involved with your fake fiancée?”
My jaw grows taut, and my knuckles turn white from the hard clench of my fist. Maybe she did, or maybe she didn't, but—“As far as I know, it doesn’t concern you.”
“It does concern me as your PR agent. If this thing comes to an end before the intended timeframe, it’ll only look worse for you in the media.”
I face her gaze head-on.
I’m a grown-ass man, one who makes his own damn decisions, and it isn’t up to my twenty-two-year-old cousin to comment on it. If I get scorned in the end, so be it.
“You’re just going to stay silent?” My cousin raises a brow at me.
I refrain from rolling my eyes. “There are more important matters at hand—like the cause of the spark.” Melanie’s features harden as I recount everything I was told in the elevator.
Within milliseconds of the end of my story, she’s clacking away at her laptop, putting to use what I can only assume are her impeccable stalking skills.
“Ethan Wallace,” she says, looking up at me. “He was the only intern at the event.”
A ringing sets off in my ears at that last name.
No. This can’t be.
There must be another Wallace in engineering—one who isn’t so entwined with my past.
“It can’t be him,” I say in denial.
“I can confirm that he was lingering in the backstage area before I yelled at him to get out.”
The memory of Melanie yelling at the son of the man I once worked for comes crashing back to me. The green suit. The deer-caught-in-the-headlights look before scurrying away. The missing puzzle piece is right in front of me, but I don’t want it to click in place because it’s simply “Impossible.”
“Why would Martha make up something of that caliber? The woman was pregnant, not out of her mind!” Melanie shoots me a knowing look.
A hand runs down my face, the feeling in the pit of my stomach growing heavier than it was this morning. “I was really starting to think the spark was Carter’s bidding.” I deflect the blame.
It’s not impossible with the stunt he pulled at the conference, but even Melanie seems to question that narrative when I tell her the history I share with Winston Wallace—Ethan’s father.
“Did you end on bad terms at the company?” she asks, brows pinching together.
Fuck no. There’s a reason I hired his son when his name popped up in the internship application pool.
Winston and I caught up once in a while, whether over it was the phone or a cup of coffee. I considered him a mentor. All he’s ever done is support me endlessly throughout the launch of Archer Aviation. This…would make no sense.