Epilogue
One year later
Rhodes
The moving truck blocks half our narrow mountain road, but I can’t stop grinning. The air carries that particular crispness that makes the Highlands special—clean mountain air mingled with the scent of pine and distant wood smoke.
Below us, the valley stretches out in a patchwork of forests and small clearings, the town barely visible through morning mist. This view—this exact vista—is what made both of us stop and look at each other wordlessly during the property tour.
The movers call to each other as they navigate a sectional sofa through the front door, their voices carrying in the mountain air. It’s a symphony of new beginnings—cardboard boxes being cut open, furniture being arranged, a house transforming into our home.
About two months after meeting Sydney on a hiking trail, I made an offer on this spec home when it was in the initial stages of construction.
The fact it was unfinished allowed me to ensure the house was wired to meet our needs for working from home.
It’s in the mountains, not too far from the KOAN offices off Church Street.
Over the last year, we’ve spent time all over.
Sydney went back with me to San Francisco for a couple of months while I worked to handle the fallout from Miles and relocate ARGUS.
We’ve spent time in D.C. on and off as needed for various business projects.
When we’re in D.C., we stay at Sydney’s Maryland condo, which she owns.
We’ve stayed there enough that her once spartan condo feels like a home now, and there are photos of us rock climbing in Colorado, swimming in the Pacific, and dining at a Napa vineyard.
For our six-month anniversary, I surprised her with a trip to Paris, took a private tour of the catacombs as she’s fascinated by the history, and she introduced me to several friends she’d made from her time in France.
For our nine-month anniversary, we went to Rio de Janeiro and visited the Amazon.
I’ve never taken more vacations in my life, which, given the transformative changes at ARGUS, is incredible.
The congressional hearings last year were brutal, but they ultimately vindicated our position.
The new ARGUS operates with an independent oversight board that includes both domestic and international experts in ethics, technology, and civil liberties—a structure Caroline Moore helped design based on KOAN’s model.
We’ve shifted our focus entirely away from government surveillance contracts toward tools that increase transparency in public institutions.
The partnership with KOAN has been revolutionary—their intelligence expertise combined with our pattern-recognition technology has already exposed three major corruption networks that traditional investigations missed.
Daisy now leads her own division focused specifically on counter-surveillance tools for journalists and human rights workers in authoritarian regimes—turning the technology that almost destroyed us into a shield for those most vulnerable to surveillance abuse.
The gleeful way she explains her work to potential clients reminds me why I started ARGUS in the first place.
The irony isn’t lost on me: a year ago, I was contemplating shutting ARGUS down entirely. Now it’s doing more important work than ever, but with greater balance that allows me to prioritize what truly matters.
Working with the KOAN team has been an unexpected gift—these people who once surveilled me have become extended family.
Jake, Sydney, and I go rock climbing regularly when I’m on the East Coast. Jake’s southern drawl and straightforward perspective, a refreshing change from Silicon Valley’s tech bubble.
Quinn’s technical brilliance rivals Daisy’s, though their styles couldn’t be more different; watching them debate encryption protocols is like witnessing an intense chess match.
Hudson maintains his professional distance, but I caught him smiling when Sydney and I announced our house plans during a team dinner.
Even Caroline, initially skeptical of my intentions with both her friend and her organization, has become a trusted ally in navigating the complex world where technology meets intelligence work.
What began as an awkward partnership of necessity has evolved into something none of us expected.
Last week, when the KOAN team helped us pack up some personal items from Sydney’s condo, there was a moment—everyone laughing as Jake attempted to bubble wrap Sydney’s collection of unusual rocks from our travels—when I realized how completely our worlds had merged.
The surveillance expert and the tech founder, surrounded by people who bridge the gap between those identities.
Nana loves Sydney. She pulled me aside on our first visit and whispered in my ear that this one was the real thing. I couldn’t agree more.
I doubt Sydney remembers, but today is our one-year anniversary. The builder tried to shift our move-in date, and I about lost it on him. Sydney didn’t get why it mattered what day we moved in, but it does to me.
We’ve basically been living together, shifting from temporary rentals, hotels and condos, but we’re moving into a home that is ours on our anniversary.
Sydney picked the countertops and cabinets, and I selected the entertainment system and adjusted the floor plan so we both have offices with stellar mountain views.
We picked everything down to the paint colors together.
As we planned this home, the world around us continued to evolve.
Senator Crawford is up for re-election next year and faces stiff competition.
While he wasn’t directly involved, polls show his constituents question the accuracy of the investigation findings.
It doesn’t help that his wife left him for another man, and rumors abound about his indiscretions.
Miles awaits his trial. He hired lawyers who have been using every delay tactic in the book.
Perhaps out of guilt, perhaps because he needed the money to fund legal costs, he sold me his shares in ARGUS.
I’ve distanced myself from his trial. I don’t know the extent of the evidence the prosecution has against him, and I don’t want to know.
He’s called me a few times, but I haven’t taken his calls. I don’t owe him anything.
Alex stayed and helped me through those initial first months after Miles’ arrest, but he accepted a role as CFO at a company with plans to go public, and I couldn’t be happier for him.
In my hand, I hold a key ring with keys to every lock on the property.
We don’t actually need keys. The house is equipped with every security feature, including a retina scanner for front door entry.
But there’s always a chance we could have a blackout and the backup generator might not work, so we also have keys. Plus, I like the symbolism.
It’s funny. I spent seven years in a relationship and never felt ready for marriage. But I’m ready now. With every fiber of my being, I’m ready.
But I’m not sure Syd is. She’s younger, and I absolutely get it.
I debated proposing today—our one-year anniversary—but held off.
Before me, her relationships never lasted a year.
It’s something that shouldn’t matter, but it’s been in the back of her mind.
She mentioned it when I casually mentioned we’d made it nine months.
I’ve made comments about us getting married, of course.
And she’s responded with jokes. Her go to.
She’ll say things like, “Are you sure about that, Rhodes?” or “Let’s break my record first.” Well, now we’ve broken her record.
I already have the ring. Actually, I have two.
My mom’s ring and another ring I saw that I thought looked like Sydney.
The golden topaz in the center is associated with Apollo, and the diamonds around it and the band, if one believes the Romans, are gifts from the gods and can be used as protection in battle.
My mother’s is a classic set solitaire, elegant and also perfect for Syd.
Sydney appears in the doorway, her raven locks up in a high ponytail, shorts that are short enough I’m sure the movers are appreciative, and a cotton tank that flatters her svelte shoulders and curves.
“There you are. Do you want to come look where they put the sofa? I know you were specific about the distance from the television. It looks fine to me but…while we have them here…” Her gaze drops to my hand. “Why do you have keys? I thought that was the point of the retinal scan.”
“Well, yes, but still, just in case?—”
“If the world as we know it ceases, we’ll have keys.” She’s mocking me. She does that.
I step up to her and place the keys in her palm.
“These are the keys to everything. To this house, to my place in Colorado, to the ARGUS office, to my grandmother’s home in Charlotte, to everything.” I wiggle the one bulky key to the car, which we don’t need because our phones unlock my car. “The Rivian. Everything. Right here.”
“Well…thank you. You have a copy of the key to my condo in D.C. You should add it. That way, we’ll have all the keys in one place, and we can put them in the junk drawer in the kitchen.”
“We have a junk drawer already?”
“Everyone has a junk drawer, Rhodes. Everyone.”
“I see.”
She steps away but then stops, eyeing me.
“What’s up? Is everything okay?”
“Do you know what today is?”
“Move in day?”
“It’s our anniversary.”
Her golden-brown eyes widen with awareness. “That’s why it was so important we move in today.” She points at the key ring in my hand. “And the keys. Look at you, so romantic.”
“Well, a year ago today a woman pretended she was injured, just to get to know me. That’s pretty romantic, too, don’t you think?” She grins, but I grow serious. “I want lots and lots of anniversaries with you, Syd.”
She loops her arms around my shoulders, clasping her hands behind my neck.
Two movers exit the house headed to the truck, but we disregard them.
“I want the same, Rhodes. This year has been everything to me. I want countless anniversaries with you.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
She kisses me and the world falls away. She’s always been able to do that. Carry me away to a mental space where it’s only the two of us and I’m my old self, free of the weight of the world.
“Marry me,” I say, the words emerging so naturally they surprise even me—light on my tongue, barely audible above the distant sounds of furniture being arranged and the mountain breeze rustling through nearby pines.
Time seems to pause as Sydney’s eyes widen, those remarkable golden-brown irises catching the morning light. For a heartbeat, I see a flicker of wariness.
“Are you sure, Rhodes?” Her voice carries that blend of teasing and vulnerability that I’ve come to recognize as uniquely hers. But beneath the question is a deeper one—are you sure about me, with all my complexities, my history, my inherent distrust of permanence?
The weight of the two rings sitting in the glove compartment of my car—one classic and elegant, one uniquely designed for her—suddenly feels insignificant compared to the weight of this moment.
“I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life,” I tell her, my voice steadier than my racing heart.
Something shifts in her expression—the last wall coming down. Her smile breaks across her face like the sunrise across the mountains we both love, transforming her features with a joy I’ve seen glimpses of but rarely this complete, this unguarded.
“Then yes,” she says, and then louder, as if testing how the commitment feels in the mountain air. “Yes!”
I lift her off her feet, spinning her in a circle as her laughter—that open, full-throated sound I’ve spent a year working to earn—echoes against the mountainside. The movers pause their work, watching us with knowing smiles, as Sydney wraps her arms tighter around my neck.
When I set her down, she presses her forehead against mine, both of us breathless from spinning and laughter. “You know what Nana would say about this?” I murmur.
“That her mythology stories finally taught you something?”
“That the greatest hubris isn’t flying too close to the sun,” I say, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “It’s believing you can build a life worth living without love.”
Her smile softens. “And what do you say?”
I look around at our half-unpacked home, the mountains stretching endlessly before us, this woman who saw through all my carefully constructed walls to something worth saving.
“I say the ancients were wrong about one thing—sometimes the gods reward those brave enough to reach for what they need most.”
Her commitment is absolutely everything. But this—our quiet defiance of the tragic endings that fill mythology stories—this is everything else.