Chapter 16
April
The security feeds flickered across my tablet screen, each frame a reminder of what I was missing. Three empty chairs at our usual breakfast spot. Two untouched coffee cups growing cold. One message from Christian explaining they were working late again.
No word from Rory.
I scrolled through the feeds again, the blue light harsh against my tired eyes in the dimness of my kitchen. The emptiness of our home seemed to pulse around me, a living thing growing with each passing hour. The scent of Christian’s aftershave still lingered on the throw pillow beside me—he’d at least come home to shower yesterday—but Rory’s side of our shared closet remained untouched, his favorite coffee mug gathering dust in the cabinet.
On my way to work, my mind went in circles, the familiar route offering no distraction from the spiraling thoughts. The morning air carried the scent of fresh rain, reminding me of last spring when Rory had pulled me into an impromptu dance in our backyard during a sudden shower. His laughter had mingled with the rainfall, his hands warm against my chilled skin as we’d spun through puddles like carefree children. Where was that man now?
I questioned every moment of the past few weeks, asking myself if I’d done something wrong. If he ever even loved me at all. The thought sent a physical pain through my chest, sharp enough to make me gasp.
My fingers hovered over my phone, muscle memory wanting to text him like I had every morning for the past three years. But what would I say? Miss you felt too needy. Where are you too accusatory. Please talk to me too desperate. I set the phone down, the small clatter against the car’s console sounding unnaturally loud in the silence.
Through the car window, I watched people hurrying to work, their lives continuing while mine seemed suspended in uncertainty. The golden morning light caught on a couple sharing coffee at a sidewalk café, their hands intertwined on the table between them. My throat tightened as I remembered last month’s lazy Sunday brunch—Stewart feeding me bites of his pancakes, Christian’s foot playfully tangled with mine under the table, Rory’s arm draped casually around my shoulders as he argued good-naturedly with Stewart about baseball statistics.
The memory was so vivid I could almost taste the maple syrup, feel the weight of Rory’s arm, hear the gentle cadence of his voice as he teased Stewart about the Yankees’ pitching lineup. My eyes burned with unshed tears.
The tablet chimed with an incoming video call from Reeves, the sound pulling me back to the present moment. I checked my reflection in the darkened screen—professional mask firmly in place, despite the shadows under my eyes that even careful makeup couldn’t quite hide. I ran my fingers through my hair one last time, straightened my shoulders, and accepted the call.
“Good morning, April,” Reeves greeted as his face filled the screen. His tone carried just the right mix of professional courtesy and genuine warmth. Even through the screen, I could see the clarity in his eyes, the attentiveness in his expression. “I’ve got those security protocols drafted for the venue. Mind taking a look?”
“Of course.” I forced my attention to the documents he shared, grateful for the distraction from my spiraling thoughts. The plans were meticulous—every entry point covered, sight lines analyzed, potential vulnerabilities addressed. My fingers traced the screen, following the detailed schematics. “This is… incredibly thorough.”
“Well, can’t be too careful. We want to make sure anyone looking too closely believes I am actually a security contractor, right?” His smile was reassuring, creating small crinkles at the corners of his eyes. “Especially with everything that’s happened. How are you holding up?”
The simple question, asked with such evident concern, threatened to crack my carefully maintained composure. I swallowed hard, feeling the tightness in my throat, the prickling heat behind my eyes. I focused on the security diagrams, on the clean lines and precise annotations, anything to keep from falling apart. “I’m fine. Just busy with—” I gestured vaguely at my screen, hoping he wouldn’t notice the slight tremor in my hand.
“April.” His voice softened, somehow more intimate through the electronic connection. “You don’t have to pretend with me. I’ve seen how hard this has been. We’re in this together until this corruption is exposed and everyone is safe.”
I looked up, startled by the gentleness in his tone. Through the video feed, his eyes held nothing but compassion—no judgment, no ulterior motives, just genuine understanding. For a moment, I wanted to tell him everything—the growing emptiness in my home, the way Christian and Stewart kept insisting nothing was wrong, the unauthorized access I’d discovered on my computer with Rory’s credentials.
“I—” The words caught in my throat, thick and heavy. How could I explain the way my world was slowly unraveling? How every unanswered text felt like another tiny fracture in the foundation of my life? The way I’d started sleeping with one of Rory’s t-shirts, the fabric growing less and less like him with each passing night?
A knock at my office door saved me from having to respond. The sound echoed in the quiet space, making me flinch slightly. Georgia stood in the doorway, her usual efficient demeanor softened by concern. The subtle scent of her signature jasmine perfume drifted across the room.
“Sorry to interrupt, but we need to review the press releases for the fight postponement,” she said, her eyes taking in what I was sure was my barely-holding-it-together appearance.
“Of course.” I straightened in my chair, feeling the muscles in my back protest after hours of tension. My professional mask slid back into place with practiced ease. “Special Agent Reeves, I’ll look these over and get back to you?”
“Take your time.” His smile was understanding, a small gesture of compassion that made my chest ache. “And April? My door’s always open if you need to talk.”
The video call ended, leaving me staring at my reflection in the dark screen. The woman looking back at me seemed like a stranger—too pale, too thin, eyes too wide with something like fear. When had everything become so complicated? I could still remember simpler times—morning coffee with all three of my partners, easy laughter, absolute trust. Now…
My phone buzzed against the desk, the vibration making my heart leap with hope before I even saw the screen. Christian: Meeting running long. Rain check on lunch?
At least he still checked in. Still cared enough to let me know. Unlike…
I pressed my palm against the cool surface of my desk, anchoring myself in the physical sensation as memories flooded through me. Rory teaching me to make his grandmother’s pasta sauce, his hands guiding mine as we crushed tomatoes, the rich scent filling our kitchen. Stewart and Christian bickering playfully over movie choices while Rory and I curled together on the couch, his heartbeat steady under my ear. The way all three of them had created a protective circle around me after the incident at the gym, their bodies a physical barrier between me and the world, their love a shield I’d never questioned.
Until now.
“Earth to April?” Georgia’s voice cut through my thoughts, the familiar southern drawl pulling me back to the present. “You okay, honey?”
“Fine.” The word came automatically, practiced until it felt like truth. My tongue tasted bitter with the lie. “Just… tired.”
Georgia’s knowing look said she wasn’t fooled, but she played along. The lines around her eyes deepened with concern. “Well, these press releases won’t write themselves. Want to grab coffee first?”
I nodded gratefully, gathering my tablet. The weight of it in my hands felt disproportionate to its size, as if all my fears and suspicions had manifested in the slim device. As we walked to the break room, I couldn’t help looking at the feed from our home security system and feeling the emptiness of it. The quiet hallways, the undisturbed living room, the kitchen where we’d shared so many meals now sitting in shadow. I looked away quickly, but not before catching Georgia’s concerned frown.
“You know,” Georgia said carefully as we waited for fresh coffee to brew, the rich aroma beginning to fill the small space, “sometimes when things seem darkest, it’s because we’re not seeing the whole picture.”
“What do you mean?” The coffee maker gurgled and hissed, the sound filling the silence between us.
“Just… don’t lose faith yet.” Georgia squeezed my arm gently, her hand warm through the thin fabric of my blouse. “Things aren’t always what they appear.”
Before I could respond, my tablet chimed with an alert. The sound sent a jolt of adrenaline through me, my nerves already frayed to breaking. Reeves requesting access to additional venue security documentation. Such a simple, professional request. Everything properly documented, completely transparent.
Unlike the unauthorized access I’d discovered on my work computer last night—access logged under Rory’s credentials.
Access I still hadn’t reported.
The memory of finding those logs flashed through my mind. Sitting alone in our home office at 2 AM, the house silent around me, with the only light, the glow of my computer screen. The timestamp of the access—3:27 PM, when Rory had claimed to be at a briefing across town. The cold shock of recognition, followed by the hot flush of something like betrayal.
The coffee maker beeped, its cheerful tone a stark contrast to the weight in my chest. I poured two cups with mechanical precision, my mind racing. The porcelain was warm against my palms, the heat almost painful but grounding me in the moment. There had to be an explanation. Had to be a reason why Rory would access my work files without telling me. Had to be.
Was he checking on me or up on me?
My phone buzzed again. The sound made me jump, coffee sloshing dangerously close to the rim of the cup. Stewart this time: Miss you. Dinner tonight?
Another piece of normal in a world increasingly off-kilter. Memories flickered through my mind—Stewart’s laugh as he tried to teach me to dance, his patience when I stepped on his toes, his expression soft with love as he tucked my hair behind my ear. The way he always seemed to know when I needed space and when I needed to be held.
I started to reply, my thumb hovering over the keyboard, then froze as movement on the security feed caught my eye. Rory, slipping into the house through a side entrance. My heart stuttered in my chest. He looked tired, shadows under his eyes, his normally rigid posture slightly stooped. For a moment, relief washed through me—he was home, he was safe.
Then I saw him talking to someone in the doorway—a figure I couldn’t quite make out. A woman? The angle of the camera made it impossible to tell. He’d set this feed up on my computer himself, calibrated the angles, installed the software. Would he not know I could be watching?
My fingers tightened around my coffee cup as I watched their heads bend close together, sharing secrets I couldn’t hear. The ceramic burned against my skin, but I barely noticed. My mind filled with possibilities, each worse than the last.
Was he bringing someone into our home? Our sanctuary? The space where the four of us had built something beautiful and unique?
What else didn’t I know about the man I thought I knew completely?
“April?” Scarlett’s voice made me jump, coffee sloshing over the rim of my cup and onto my hand. The hot liquid stung, but the pain seemed distant, irrelevant compared to the tightness in my chest. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“No, it’s fine, I was just…” I gestured vaguely at my tablet, quickly minimizing the security feed. The movement felt like a betrayal in itself—hiding my surveillance, my suspicions. “Did you need something?”
Scarlett’s eyes narrowed slightly as she took in my trembling hands, the spilled coffee slowly spreading across the counter. Her gaze was too perceptive, seeing too much. “My office. Now.” Her tone brooked no argument, though her expression held nothing but concern.
I followed silently, grateful when Scarlett closed the door behind us. The familiar comfort of her office—the gentle hum of the air conditioning, the faint scent of lavender from the diffuser Georgia insisted she have, the soft click of the door—suddenly felt overwhelming. Too normal in a world that had tilted on its axis.
“Talk to me,” Scarlett said softly, guiding me to the small sofa rather than the more formal chairs. The fabric was soft under my hands, well-worn in the way of favorite things. “What’s going on?”
“I—” My voice cracked, the sound raw even to my own ears. I stared down at my hands, twisting in my lap, the skin on one still red from the spilled coffee. “I found something on my computer last night. Unauthorized access. From—” I couldn’t finish, the words sticking in my throat like sharp-edged stones.
“Rory?” Scarlett’s voice was gentle, free of judgment.
The simple question shattered my remaining control. A sob escaped before I could stop it, then another. The sound seemed to come from somewhere deep inside me, a place I’d been trying to protect. “Why would he…? I don’t understand. He’s never—” I pressed my hands to my mouth, trying to hold back the flood of emotions threatening to drown me. The taste of salt on my lips, the heat of tears on my cheeks. “Christian and Stewart keep saying I’m imagining things, but I’m not. Am I?”
Scarlett wrapped an arm around my shoulders, pulling me close. The familiar scent of her perfume—something light and floral—surrounded me, a small comfort in the storm. “No, honey. You’re not imagining it.”
“He’s meeting someone. In our own home.” My voice sounded strange to my own ears, almost unrecognizable. “I saw him on the feed just now and—” My words tumbled out between sobs, messy and disjointed like my thoughts. “I don’t know why he put the feed on my computer. I mean why?” I looked up at Scarlett, eyes swimming with tears, the world a watery blur. “What if I’m wrong? What if I destroy everything we’ve built because I’m being paranoid?”
“And what if you’re right?” Scarlett asked quietly, her thumb gently wiping tears from my cheek. “What if there’s a reason he’s pulling away, accessing your computer, meeting in doorways?”
“Then my whole life falls apart.” My voice was barely a whisper, the words carrying all the fear I’d been trying to contain. “We’re not just… we’re a family. The four of us, we built this together. If Rory’s—” I couldn’t finish the thought, the possibility too painful to voice.
Images flashed through my mind like a slideshow of what I stood to lose—Christmas morning, all of us in matching pajamas, Rory’s laughter as Stewart modeled his with exaggerated poses. Late nights working on cases, Christian bringing coffee just the way I liked it, Rory’s hand on the small of my back as he leaned over to study documents. The four of us moving in perfect synchronicity in the kitchen, preparing dinner together, the domestic rhythm we’d perfected over years.
“I know.” Scarlett’s arm tightened around me, anchoring me to the present. “But you’re not alone. Whatever happens, you have me. And Graham, and the whole team.”
“Reeves has been—” I wiped at my eyes, embarrassed by my breakdown. My cheeks felt hot, my nose running in the undignified way of real grief. “He’s been really supportive. Professional but kind. It almost makes it worse, you know? Having someone be so straightforward when everything else is…” I gestured helplessly, unable to find words for the swirling chaos of my life.
“Falling apart?” Scarlett supplied, reaching for the tissue box on her desk.
I nodded, accepting a tissue. The soft paper was cool against my heated skin as I dabbed at my eyes. “I keep trying to find reasonable explanations. Maybe it’s just the case. Maybe he’s protecting us by staying away. Maybe—” I trailed off, staring at the sunshine streaking across the carpet, creating patterns of light and shadow. “Maybe I’m losing my mind.”
The thought had been growing louder each day—that perhaps this was all in my head. That my fears were creating phantoms where none existed. But then I’d remember the evidence: the unauthorized access, the unexplained absences, the way he flinched when I touched him last week, as if my hand on his shoulder had burned.
“You’re not.” Scarlett’s voice carried absolute certainty, cutting through my spiraling thoughts. “Trust your instincts, April. They’ve never steered you wrong before.”
I remembered the first time I’d sensed something was off—three weeks ago, coming home to find Rory hastily closing his laptop, his expression guarded in a way I’d never seen before. The slight shift in his body language, turning away from me rather than toward me as I entered the room. The way he’d brushed off my questions with answers that seemed rehearsed.
“But what do I do?” My voice cracked again, raw with emotion. “If I confront him, and I’m wrong—”
“And if you don’t, and you’re right?” Scarlett countered gently, her eyes holding mine. “Sometimes the hardest part of loving someone is being willing to ask the difficult questions.”
My phone buzzed—another message from Stewart about dinner plans. Such a normal, everyday thing. The screen lit with his name, accompanied by the photo I’d taken last summer—him standing on the beach at sunset, smiling over his shoulder at me. How many more normal moments would I have before everything changed?
The pit in my stomach deepened as worst-case scenarios played through my mind. What if Rory was the leak? What if he’d been feeding information to someone all along? The thought made me physically ill, bile rising in my throat. But another possibility loomed even darker—what if he was in danger? What if his strange behavior was a sign he was being coerced or threatened?
My mind replayed every unusual interaction of the past few weeks through this new lens. The late-night phone calls he took outside. The way he’d changed all his passwords. How he’d suggested I spend more time at the office rather than working from home. Were these the actions of a man with secrets to hide, or a man trying to protect those he loved?
“I need to call Special Agent Reeves,” I said finally, squaring my shoulders despite the trembling I couldn’t quite control. “About the venue security. It’s… it’s the right thing to do. Professional.”
Scarlett squeezed my hand. “Want me to stay while you make the call?”
I nodded gratefully, drawing strength from my friend’s presence. As I dialed Reeves’ number, I tried not to think about how many other calls I’d have to make before this was over. Tried not to wonder if my family would survive what was coming.
The phone rang, each tone another crack in my carefully constructed world.
“April?” Reeves answered on the second ring, his voice warm with recognition. “Everything alright?”
I cursed inwardly at the tremor in my voice. “Yes, I… I wanted to let you know Ms. Swanson approved the security plans for the venue.”
A pause. “You sure you’re okay? I can come by the office if you need—”
“No,” I cut in quickly, perhaps too quickly. The last thing I needed was another complication, another person to perform normalcy for. “No, I’m fine. Just… tired. It’s been a long week.”
“Tell me about it.” His tone was sympathetic, professional. “Well, let me know if you need anything else. I’ll start implementing these protocols right away.”
After ending the call, I slumped back against the sofa. The soft fabric caught at my blouse, the physical sensation grounding me as my mind continued its frantic race through possibilities. Scarlett’s hand found mine, squeezing gently. Her skin was cool against mine, which felt fever-hot with stress.
“I keep thinking—” My voice wavered, emotions threatening to overwhelm me again. “What if he’s met someone else? Someone who doesn’t come with all this complexity, all these partners to juggle—”
The possibility had haunted my sleepless nights. Someone simpler. Someone who didn’t share him with two other partners. Someone with a normal job, normal hours, normal expectations. I’d searched his things like a jealous teenager, looking for evidence—unfamiliar perfume, unexplained receipts, the telltale signs of infidelity. I’d found nothing, which somehow made it worse. At least betrayal would make sense.
“April.” Scarlett sat up straighter, something changing in her expression. A new intensity that made me hold my breath. “What if it’s not that at all? What if—” She paused, choosing her words carefully. “What if he’s working on something? Something he can’t share?”
My breath caught, the implications of her words sinking in slowly. “You mean like… a cover?”
“Think about it.” Scarlett’s voice dropped lower, barely above a whisper though we were alone in her office. The hum of the air conditioning seemed suddenly louder, masking our conversation from potential listeners. “Everything that’s happened lately. Jenny. The office. All these connections we keep finding.” She didn’t finish the thought, but she didn’t need to.
The implication hung heavy in the air between us, almost tangible in its weight. Someone had to be feeding information. Someone with access. Someone they trusted.
My mind raced through the possibilities, connecting dots I’d been too emotional to see clearly before. Rory’s strange hours. The unauthorized access. The secretive meetings. But if he was investigating something—or someone—from the inside…
My stomach lurched as another thought surfaced—what if he wasn’t investigating? What if he was the one being investigated? Or worse, what if he was the one…
“Oh god,” I whispered, the possibility both terrifying and somehow hopeful. If he was undercover, working to protect us, to expose the corruption from within… it would explain everything. His distance. His secrecy. His absence.
But if he was the one betraying us…
The thought was physically painful, like a knife between my ribs. I pressed my hand to my chest, feeling my heartbeat rapid and uneven beneath my palm. Memories swirled through my mind—Rory holding me after nightmares, his steady presence a shield against the darkness. Rory’s face the first time I told him I loved him, the wonder in his eyes, the gentleness of his hands. Rory coaching Jenny at the gym, patient and kind even when she grew frustrated.
Could that man—the man I’d built a life with, shared secrets with, loved with everything I had—could he really be capable of the betrayal I feared?
Or was he, even now, sacrificing our happiness to keep us safe?
The uncertainty was a physical presence between us, a shadow growing longer as the sun shifted across the floor. I looked at Scarlett, finding both fear and resolve in her expression.
“What do we do?” I asked, my voice steadier than I expected.
“We wait,” she replied, her hand tightening around mine. “We watch. And we prepare for whatever comes next.”
The words hung in the air, a promise and a warning. Whatever was coming, I wouldn’t face it alone. But as I glanced at my phone—still silent, no message from Rory—I couldn’t help wondering if we’d be prepared enough.
Because one thing was becoming increasingly clear: someone in our circle wasn’t who they claimed to be. And the consequences of discovering the truth might destroy everything we’d built.