Wiretap
Dante
The first phase of our plan is in motion.
I scheduled an emergency meeting with all department heads at four o’clock.
I take my seat at the head of the table while she remains by the door to control entry.
To avoid raising suspicion, Valeria stayed in my office with Stephen and Andrea.
Only Sandrine knows what’s really going on.
For our plan to work, everyone has to behave exactly as they normally would.
Just as expected, Bianca arrives first.
The urgency of the meeting has clearly put her on edge. She wants to know what’s happening.
“Before entering, please place your phone in this box,” Sandrine says, holding out a secure case. “Exceptional containment procedure.”
Bianca frowns slightly.
“A containment procedure?” she repeats without moving.
“You’re free to refuse,” Sandrine replies calmly. “But in that case, you won’t be allowed to attend the meeting.”
Bianca hesitates.
Her gaze shifts toward me.
She’s looking for a sign, an approval, or some form of complicity.
I don’t look up from my laptop.
After a few seconds, she finally places her phone in the case.
“What’s going on, Dante?” she asks as she approaches.
“Something serious,” I reply without interrupting the email I’m typing. “I’d rather wait until everyone’s here before explaining.”
She nods slowly, patient and alert.
To preserve the fragile balance of our little performance, I ask the question any man in my position would ask:
“How are you holding up?”
The question seems to catch her off guard.
She blinks once.
Then her expression hardens almost imperceptibly.
“How do you think I’m doing, Dante? You canceled our wedding forty-eight hours before the ceremony.”
She plays her role well.
I glance away slightly.
“I never meant to hurt you.”
If she knew what was coming, the canceled wedding would be the least of her concerns.
Luc enters the room and cuts the exchange short.
The other directors follow soon after.
I sense the awkwardness the moment they notice Bianca sitting beside me.
By now, everyone already knows the wedding is off.
The smiles are strained.
I don’t care.
Once everyone is seated, Sandrine closes the door behind her and leaves us alone.
The silence grows heavy.
I take a moment to study every person around the table before I begin.
“I gathered you here because we’ve just suffered an extremely serious attack.”
I turn toward Luc.
“Luc, could you explain what happened this morning and earlier this afternoon?”
The technical director nods.
“This morning at 10:37 a.m., we were hit by a massive, coordinated attack against our research servers.”
At the words massive and coordinated attack, Bianca straightens almost imperceptibly.
An anxious murmur ripples around the table.
“The intruders exfiltrated several files dating back two years, listed under the name NRX-889.”
Louane Nguyen speaks up then, her expression closed off.
“The NRX-889 file is part of Valeria... Delorme’s research.
Based on the information I have, it involves a treatment with tremendous potential, though still dangerous in its current state.
The project was suspended following Ms. Ivanov’s disappearance.
Unfortunately, the current results are promising enough to attract unscrupulous individuals. ”
I give the executives a few seconds to absorb the information before continuing:
“However, Ms… Delorme anticipated that risk. She moved the real data onto an isolated server. All they recovered were abandoned research files and unusable leads.”
Glances are exchanged around the table without a word being spoken.
Then I drop the real bombshell:
“But most importantly, she embedded a tracker into the stolen files.”
The lead in Bianca’s mechanical pencil snaps sharply against her notebook.
She replaces it in two quick clicks before brushing the broken pieces aside with the back of her hand.
I continue as though nothing happened:
“This tracking system should allow us to trace the breach back to those responsible.”
Arthur Picard, the head of legal, reacts immediately.
“I’m not sure that’s entirely legal. Ms. Delorme can’t booby-trap files, even to protect company data.”
“To my knowledge, she didn’t install any malware. Just a simple tracking system.”
Arthur nods slowly.
“In that case, it makes sense. If she suspected industrial espionage, this could even constitute solid evidence in legal proceedings.”
I pretend to consider that for a moment before conceding:
“That is, in fact, what she’s hoping for.”
The more we speak, the paler Bianca becomes.
Her gaze drifts to the door Sandrine disappeared through with the secure case containing all the phones.
“You don’t sound entirely convinced yourself…” Arthur points out.
“Ms… Delorme reappeared after two years of absence. You understand that we have to remain cautious, especially since I still don’t know why she disappeared in the first place.”
Some of the tension leaves Bianca’s features at those words, even if the rest of her body remains taut.
When the meeting finally ends, the executives leave the room in heavy silence.
Sandrine is waiting in the hallway with the secured case.
One by one, they retrieve their phones.
Bianca grabs hers without sparing me a glance before disappearing immediately.
I watch her leave: back straight, neck rigid, as though nothing in the world could reach her.
But she’s walking fast, eager to get out of here.
I thank Sandrine for her help before joining Andrea, Stephen, and Valeria in my office.
“It’s done,” Andrea tells me. “Bianca’s phone is tapped. My team is now monitoring all her communications.”
He leaves almost immediately afterward, Stephen following close behind.
They leave us alone.
The mood shifts instantly.
I turn toward Valeria.
She’s standing near the window with her arms crossed. The late-afternoon light brushes against her face.
God... I missed her.
And we still have so much left to say to each other.
The thought of spending the next two days away from her is unbearable.
“Tell me I can come with you tonight.”
My voice comes out lower than I intended.
“I’ll sleep on the couch if I have to. But don’t ask me to spend another night without you.”
Suddenly, I realize what I’m doing.
“I’m sorry. I’m just a selfish bastard. This isn’t about me. It’s about you. About what you need.”
I run a hand through my hair.
“I want to be with you. I want to fight for us. But if you decide that I’ve hurt you too deeply, then I’ll keep my distance.”
She looks at me for a long moment without answering.
And in that silence, I can feel the weight of everything she’s considering: the risk, the closeness, the trust.
“I’d like you to come with me too,” she finally replies. “I just need to talk to my head of security first.”
I frown.
“Isn’t that Stephen?”
“No.”
She dials a number.
The person picks up immediately.
They exchange a few brief sentences. Her voice stays low and controlled.
Valeria explains my request, listens to the response, gives a short nod, then hangs up.
“It’s fine. But she’ll be the one driving you to my safe house. She wants to make sure no one’s following you.”
I watch her, despite myself impressed by the extent of their precautions.
Before leaving the office, Valeria gives me her head of security’s number. I text her immediately.
Then, following her instructions, I head straight back to the penthouse to pack a bag.
The silence hits me the moment I walk in.
This apartment… doesn’t really feel like mine anymore.
Bianca moved in two months ago, claiming it was ridiculous to keep paying for the apartment downstairs when she was already spending most of her time here.
I didn’t fight the idea.
Just like I didn’t fight the wedding.
She kept saying it reassured the investors. The employees. The media. That the board needed a strong signal.
And me… I no longer had the energy to fight anything. Ever since Valeria disappeared, I’d been surviving more than truly living. So I let it happen. Day after day. Decision after decision.
While I drowned in my grief, Bianca settled into every empty space I left behind.
How did I confuse presence with comfort?
When did I stop defending what was left of the only woman I’ve ever loved?
My gaze slowly sweeps across the room.
Bianca left her mark everywhere.
Framed photographs. Carefully staged memories. Pictures where I’m smiling… without truly being there.
I look around, and I finally understand.
Little by little, she erased Valeria.
Replaced every trace. Every object. Every detail.
A few more weeks… and nothing of Valeria would’ve remained, and I would’ve been tied to Bianca for better or worse.
And the worst part is that I let her do it.
A shiver runs through me at the thought.
There’s no way I can bring Valeria back here.
Even though we lived some of our happiest moments in this place, it’s contaminated now—saturated with the memory of another woman.
I grab my phone, scroll quickly through my contacts, and dial a number.
“Dante... what do I owe the honor?” David asks.
“You still work in real estate?”
“Among other things.”
A short laugh escapes me. The man juggles at least five different industries.
“What are you looking for?”
“A townhouse. Not too far from headquarters. With a garden.”
“You’re getting back together with Valeria?”
“Did Andrea tell you?”
“No, your brother didn’t tell me anything. But you’re not the type to call off an engagement without a reason... and this sudden need to change everything... You just have to know how to read between the lines.”
I fall silent for a moment. Being this transparent to him is unsettling.
“The truth is, nothing’s been decided between us yet. But I’m going to do everything I can to convince her to give me a second chance.”
“In that case, I’ll put together my best selection and send it to you tomorrow. What’s your budget?”
“Price doesn’t matter. Find me something that can be delivered quickly.”
“I’ll take care of it.”
“Thanks. I owe you one. Give your family my best.”
I hang up.
A few seconds later, a text appears.
MARA: I’m downstairs.
I grab my bag, cast one final look around the apartment I’ll never step foot in again, and close the door behind me.
In the underground parking garage, a Peugeot 3008 flashes its headlights at me.
I walk over. The trunk unlocks. I toss my bag inside.
When I move around the vehicle and open the passenger door, I freeze.
“Sandrine?”
My secretary of three weeks looks at me calmly.
A faint smile curves at the corner of her lips.
“Mara,” she corrects.
Shock roots me to the spot as everything suddenly clicks.
“You’re how Valeria knew about the fundraising round... the confidential clauses... the exact meeting time...”
She doesn’t answer. Doesn’t confirm. Doesn’t deny.
She simply waits for me to get in before starting the engine in silence.
I understand immediately. I haven’t earned her trust yet.
We leave the garage.
She checks her mirrors with mechanical precision, changes lanes twice, takes two unnecessary detours, then suddenly slows down.
Surveillance detection.
She’s a professional.
After several minutes, we leave Paris behind.
Buildings give way to darker roads.
Finally, she stops in front of a gated property.
An isolated estate.
The gates slowly swing open.