Chapter 17
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
LIAM
I arrive at the office before dawn, hoping the early start will help me avoid the ache in my chest. The building is eerily silent, a far cry from its usual buzz of innovation and ideas. As I step into the office, the sight of Nova’s empty desk hits me like a punch. Her chair, slightly askew, looks out of place without her presence. I walk into my own office, staring at her vacant seat.
Why does everything feel so empty without her? I thought I could handle this...
I run my fingers through my hair, the familiar gesture offering no comfort. The silence is deafening, pressing down on me as I try to focus on the tasks at hand. But it’s no use. The room feels like a void, each second stretching into an eternity.
"I miss you, Nova..." The words escape my lips in a whisper, barely audible in the quiet room.
I turn to my desk, the cluttered surface mocking my attempts at order. Documents and screens filled with complex equations and projections—none of it matters right now. The emptiness gnaws at me, a constant reminder of what I've lost.
Her laughter used to fill this space, her quick wit challenging me in ways no one else ever dared. Now it’s just me and the relentless hum of machinery.
I lean back in my chair, closing my eyes. Images of Nova flash through my mind—her determined expression as she tackled problems head-on, the way her eyes lit up when she made a breakthrough. Each memory sharpens the longing in my chest.
The office door creaks open slightly, a gust of air brushing past me. For a fleeting moment, hope flares—could it be her? But no, it’s just the HVAC system kicking in.
I sigh deeply, pushing away the memories that threaten to overwhelm me. Focus on work—that’s always been my solution. But even QuantumLeap's most pressing problems seem trivial now.
Nova had become more than just an assistant or an undercover journalist trying to expose me. She became real—so painfully real—and now her absence is a void nothing can fill.
I pick up a pen from my desk and start fidgeting with it, spinning it between my fingers. It’s a small habit that betrays my underlying anxiety. Without Nova here to keep me grounded, my racing thoughts seem uncontrollable.
The morning sun starts to filter through the large glass windows, casting long shadows across the room. It highlights every corner that now seems desolate without her presence.
My gaze falls on a discarded note still sitting on the corner of her desk—a relic from when she was here every day, pushing us all to be better, including me. It’s funny how someone can leave such a lasting imprint in such a short time.
I stand up abruptly and walk over to her desk, running a hand over its surface as if expecting to find some trace of her warmth still lingering there. The coolness under my fingertips is another reminder of her absence.
I return to my chair and glance at the clock—only thirty minutes have passed since I arrived. Each tick of the second hand feels like an eternity stretching out before me.
Nova used to say this office needed more life—a plant or two, maybe some artwork on these sterile walls. I always dismissed it as unnecessary clutter but now... maybe she was right.
I wake up with a start, my heart racing as remnants of a restless night cling to my consciousness. The morning light filters through the blinds, reminding me that another day has arrived. With a heavy sigh, I drag myself out of bed and go through the motions of my morning routine, each movement feeling mechanical and detached.
The elevator dings, and I walk into my office. Everything's as I left it—meticulously organized, a testament to my need for control. But now, it all feels pointless. I drop into my chair and try to immerse myself in work. The screens flicker to life, displaying complex equations and projections for RealityPlus.
I start typing, but my fingers hesitate over the keys. Her laughter echoes in my mind, her smile flashes before me.
"Liam," a voice interrupts. It's Daniel, my CFO, standing at the doorway.
"Yeah?" I reply, not bothering to hide my irritation.
"You seemed distracted," he says cautiously. "Everything alright?"
I force a smile, nodding. "Just a lot on my mind."
Daniel looks unconvinced but doesn't press further. He hands me a stack of documents before retreating.
I try to dive into the reports, but Nova's image keeps intruding. Her determined expression as she worked late into the night beside me. The way she'd challenge me with her sharp wit.
Damn it, focus.
I skim through a document, barely absorbing its content. My eyes glaze over charts and figures without really seeing them. The words blur together, meaningless without her here to make sense of them.
"Liam," another voice breaks through—Vitoria this time. She steps into my office with her usual confidence. "You seem off today."
"I'm fine," I snap before softening my tone. "Really."
She raises an eyebrow but doesn't push it. "Alright. Just... take care of yourself."
I nod and watch her leave, feeling a pang of guilt for snapping at her.
Minutes turn into hours as I go through the motions—attending meetings, reviewing documents, interacting with colleagues—but it all feels hollow and mechanical.
In one meeting about RealityPlus' launch strategy, I realize halfway through that I've missed half of what's been discussed.
"Liam? Your thoughts?" someone asks.
I clear my throat, scrambling for something coherent to say. "We need to focus on scalability," I reply mechanically.
It seems to satisfy them for now, but inside I'm fuming at myself for slipping up again.
Back in my office, I try to lose myself in the avalanche of tasks that never seem to end. My eyes scan the room, seeking refuge in the familiarity of my meticulously organized space. But then, my gaze lands on a pen resting on the corner of Nova's desk—her desk, as if it's still hers.
I pick up the pen, running my fingers over its surface. It's one of those fancy pens, with her initials engraved on it—N.A. My chest tightens as I trace the letters. Everywhere I look, there's something that reminds me of her. How can I move on when she's everywhere?
Her laugh echoes in my mind, vibrant and unrestrained, a stark contrast to the sterile silence around me now. I close my eyes, surrendering to the flood of memories that rush in. The way she'd furrow her brows in concentration, her eyes lighting up with excitement at each breakthrough. Her touch—soft but electrifying—lingers on my skin like a phantom limb.
"Why did it have to end like this?" The words escape me in a whisper, barely audible but heavy with the weight of regret and longing.
I grip the pen tightly, feeling its coldness seep into my palm. Each groove and curve becomes a link to our shared past—a past now overshadowed by betrayal and loss. Her presence is an indelible mark on this place, on me.
The ache in my chest intensifies as I think back to those late nights working side by side, our conversations filled with sharp wit and unexpected vulnerability. Nova had this uncanny ability to pierce through my defenses without even trying.
Damn it, Nova. You were supposed to be different.
I lean back in my chair, staring at the ceiling as if it holds answers. Each ticking second mocks my attempts at regaining control.
The sun starts to set outside, casting long shadows across the room. The golden light only serves to highlight the emptiness that now pervades this space. Returning to my chair feels like defeat, but what else can I do? The work demands attention even if every cell in my body rebels against it right now.
Her face haunts me as I try once more to focus on RealityPlus projections—the spark in her eyes when she spoke passionately about something; how she could shift effortlessly from professional acumen to personal warmth without missing a beat.
Everywhere I look... she's there.
The penthouse feels like a cavern as I step inside, its silence amplifying my loneliness. I drop my keys on the counter, the sound echoing through the empty space. Every corner of this place holds memories of Nova—her laughter, her warmth, her presence that made it feel like home.
I collapse onto the couch, exhaustion seeping into my bones. My mind races, replaying moments with Nova on an endless loop. Her vibrant smile, the mischief in her eyes, the way she challenged me at every turn. The ache in my chest intensifies with each memory.
"Why did you lie to me, Nova?" I whisper into the darkness. The words hang in the air, unanswered.
My phone buzzes on the coffee table—another message from her. I can't bring myself to read it. Her apologies feel like salt in the wound, each one another reminder of her betrayal. Yet, the temptation to hear her voice, to see her words, is almost overwhelming.
I stand and walk to the window, staring out at the city below. The world continues moving while I'm stuck in this loop of hurt and confusion. Can I ever forgive her? Do I even want to?
My chest tightens as I remember her touch—electric and tender—and her voice, soft yet strong when she whispered my name in our quiet moments. The conflict between my longing for her and the pain of her deception tears at me.
In the kitchen, I open the fridge out of habit rather than hunger. The cold light illuminates neatly stacked containers—optimized, utilitarian, so bland in comparison to the color Nova brought to my life. I close it with a sigh and lean against the counter, gripping its edge tightly.
Sleep eludes me as I toss and turn in bed. Nova's image fills my mind—the way she'd furrow her brows when deep in thought or laugh uncontrollably at something silly. Every detail sharpens both the longing and the pain within me.
As dawn breaks, I find myself on the balcony, gripping the cold metal railing. The city below slowly wakes up, and a sense of clarity washes over me. I can't keep going like this. I need to understand the truth. We need to find a way through this.
Back inside, I notice an encrypted email from Caleb. My heart pounds as I open it:
Investigation reveals Nova Addison was coerced by her boss, Sam Draper. Our analysis shows she only shared publicly available information about QuantumLeap. No private data or personal information was ever compromised. All sensitive details about the company and its employees, especially you, were deliberately omitted or obscured in her reports. It appears she was actively protecting QuantumLeap and you, despite the pressure she was under.
My breath catches in my throat as I read the message again. The realization hits me—Nova had been walking a tightrope, trying to satisfy her boss's demands while safeguarding QuantumLeap's interests and my privacy. She risked her career, maybe even her safety, to protect us.
Determination floods my veins as I start to see things from her perspective. Her entire life has been a battle for recognition and respect. I head to my home office, fingers trembling as I boot up my computer.
I pull up files related to Sam Draper, scouring for anything that might corroborate Nova's story. As minutes turn into hours, pieces start falling into place—a pattern of manipulation and control that aligns with what I've just learned.
Why didn't she come to me sooner? The question gnaws at me even as guilt settles in my chest—I've kept my own secrets too.
My eyes drift to a photo of Vitoria and me on my desk. She's always been there for me, grounding me when things got tough. Maybe it's time I reached out to her for help navigating this mess.
For the first time in days, hope mingles with anxiety in my chest. She infiltrated QuantumLeap driven by ambition, but somewhere along that journey, we found something real. Maybe we can salvage what remains amidst the disarray swirling around us both personally and professionally.
But can I forgive her? That remains the unresolved question echoing deep within me as I search desperately for answers, seeking clarity amidst the turmoil and confusion clouding my judgment.