Caught Red-Handed
Dante
The Day Before
“I just received notice of the preliminary injunction. I don’t intend to contest it. Valeria will be reinstated tomorrow.”
A faint murmur ripples through the room.
“We could challenge the injunction,” Peltier says. “Drag the proceedings out. It would give us time to understand her motives.”
“The law is on her side,” Arthur Picard, our legal director, interjects in a neutral tone.
“Contesting it without serious grounds would expose us more than it would her. She’s not just an employee we can hold accountable.
She’s a cofounder and a major shareholder.
She holds nearly enough shares for a blocking minority. ”
Bianca presses her lips together.
“So there’s really nothing we can do?”
“Our best option is to let her come back and see what she really wants.”
Peltier and Bianca are clearly against the idea, but the other board members nod in agreement.
“The matter is settled,” I say. “Let’s move on to the next item.”
The meeting ends under tightly controlled tension.
On the way out, Bianca catches up to me.
“Peltier’s upset. We should have lunch with him to smooth things over.”
“Go without me. I have an important call.”
Despite her obvious irritation, she smiles, then rises onto her toes to kiss me.
I freeze.
The gesture is inappropriate here.
I turn my head away, and her lips land on my cheek instead.
I don’t stay long enough to see how she takes it.
That’s a conversation we’ll have in private.
Back in my office, I shut the door behind me and dial Andrea’s number.
He picks up almost immediately.
“I’m listening.”
“I want discreet surveillance installed in Valeria’s office. Internal cameras, activity logs, server snapshots on all sensitive directories.”
Silence.
“You want to see what she does... or what she’s looking for?”
“Both.”
A pause.
“When do you need it?”
“Tomorrow morning. Seven a.m.”
“That’s going to cost you.”
“Can you do it or not?”
A quiet exhale on the other end.
“It’ll be done.”
I hang up.
She wants to play.
Then we’ll play by my rules.
*
Wednesday, December 21
The receptionist calls me at eight-oh-two.
“She just arrived, sir.”
“Thank you.”
I enter Valeria’s office three minutes before she does, close the door behind me, then step into the bathroom and lock it. Andrea’s men installed a large monitor on the wall.
Three silent video feeds flicker across the screen. One shows the office, another the laboratory, and the third is black for now.
I could’ve monitored her from somewhere else.
But I wanted to be inside.
Right where she thinks she’s safe.
Soon, I watch her walk in, sit down, and power on the workstation with that absolute focus I know so well.
She’s planning something.
My third video feed comes to life and displays her screen.
Then she bends down, removes her heel, and pulls a composite USB drive hidden inside it.
I go still. My jaw tightens.
She came prepared.
Meticulously.
She forces open a security cover using tools I don’t recognize. Professional-grade. Expensive. Nearly impossible to obtain.
She plugs in the USB drive. Double-clicks the device icon.
An interface opens.
She selects folders and drags them into the program.
An automatic snapshot starts running in the background, copying every file she touches.
Then the progress bar appears.
0%.
She makes a phone call.
I can’t hear the person on the other end.
“It’s started,” she says from the other side of the door.
So she isn’t acting alone.
“Thank you,” she adds before hanging up.
Cold rage rises inside me.
But beneath the rage, there’s something else.
Something even more devastating.
Pain.
She vanished for two years.
Then she came back with a lawyer, a security team... and a plan.
The woman I loved more than anything didn’t return for me.
She came back to steal data from my company.
Maybe I never really knew her at all.
I stare at the screen as the progress bar advances.
7%.
I let her continue.
For now.
Because I want to see how far she’s willing to go.
And because while she destroys whatever remains between us, I’m mourning the woman I loved for the second time.
The first time, I grieved a dead woman.
This time, I’m grieving a stranger.
I watch her sweat. Her hand trembles slightly. She keeps glancing toward the door, as though expecting someone to burst in at any moment.
Then she stands, takes a deep breath, and walks toward the bathroom.
My heartbeat quickens.
On impulse, I silently unlock the door and lean back against the sink.
I hear her hand on the handle.
The moment she opens the door, she startles violently. A strangled gasp escapes her.
For an instant, neither of us speaks.
We just stare at each other.
And it feels as though two years collapse all at once.
She’s still as beautiful as she used to be.
Maybe even more.
But beauty is deceptive.
I search her face for any trace of deceit. Something I missed before. A sign I should’ve seen.
But I see nothing.
Nothing except Valeria.
My Valeria.
Except she isn’t mine anymore.
She takes a step back. Her breathing quickens.
“This... this isn’t what you think.”
Pathetic.
And yet part of me — the stupid, stubborn part that refuses to let go — wants to believe her.
“What exactly do you think I believe?”
She lowers her eyes, unable to hold my gaze any longer.
“I just want to protect my research from the wrong hands.”
“Really?”
I push away from the sink and walk slowly toward her in the other room.
Every step takes a superhuman effort.
She must feel my rage, because she retreats with every step I take. Her back hits the glass. She stops and lifts a terrified face toward me.
Her phone starts ringing on the desk.
She shoots it a desperate glance.
“That your boyfriend downstairs? Don’t you want to answer it?”
She goes pale.
I see the exact moment she realizes she’s been completely exposed.
Her pupils dilate. Her breathing catches.
And from the look on her face, I also see the moment she decides to change tactics.
Exactly the way she used to during meetings whenever a project stalled.
I used to love that about her.
That sharp intelligence. That ability to adapt.
Now it makes me sick.
“Listen to me,” she pleads, her voice trembling. “The cyberattack attempts... I’m sure they’re after NRX-889. You know how dangerous it is. We need to keep it out of their reach.”
NRX-889.
Her secret project. The one she hoped could repair nerve damage, slow neurodegenerative diseases, and stimulate neural regeneration.
But it’s still unfinished and potentially deadly.
The audacity.
“Stop lying to me. No one knows it exists except you and me.”
My voice hardens as I add,
“You know what I think? I think you want to steal it and exploit it yourself.”
“How can you believe that? How can you think that of me? And why would I do it? I don’t care about fame or money. Give me one reason why I would.”
She’s good. I could almost believe her. Because while she speaks, I see all the passion that drives her. The same passion that made me fall hopelessly in love with her.
But that woman no longer exists. This one is a mirage.
I look at her, and whatever remained of my trust dies a little more.
“If you’d come to me directly, maybe I could’ve believed you. But all I see now is a traitor. First, you let me believe you were dead. You let me mourn you. Then you come back and steal data from my company.”
My shoulders slacken, as though my body is finally accepting defeat.
“You disappoint me so much, Valeria.”
At those words, she breaks.
A violent sob tears from her throat. Tears spill down her cheeks, uncontrollable, devastating.
She slides down against the window, collapsing.
I should feel satisfied seeing her broken.
But all I feel is an overwhelming exhaustion.
And a stupid, pathetic urge to kneel beside her and pull her into my arms. As if two years of lies had changed nothing. As if she hadn’t just betrayed me in the worst possible way.
“And to think I spent two years mourning you...”
My voice is barely audible.
“I regret ever loving you. I regret ever knowing you.”
At those words, she lifts her eyes to mine.
And what’s written in them destroys me.
Pain. Raw. Absolute.
“Stop,” she begs. “Please, Dante. You have no idea what you’re doing to me.”
Tears stream down her face.
“Yes,” I reply, with all the hatred I can muster and all the pain I can no longer contain. “I’m erasing you from my life.”
I’m lying, because you don’t erase someone you still love.
You just try to survive what they did to you.