Chapter Twenty-Two
Thursday morning
Quinn
I arrive at work early, determined to get a head start on our investigation. My office building is quiet; most businesses in the building won’t open for another hour. This solitude is exactly what I need. It gives me time to think, to process everything that happened yesterday.
My desk looks exactly as I left it, despite the memory of yesterday morning. I’d spent half the night in bed making notes, creating a timeline for both leaks, trying to identify connections. My notepad is now filled with names; question marks fill more of the space than arrows—a chaotic reflection of my thoughts.
As I was doing that, I got a text from Jonathan saying the Dallas Lifestyle piece came back to them for final approval. After looking at it and suggesting edits of their own, they’d sent it back. And from what I’d read this morning when the story broke, it was exactly what we all wanted—warm, authentic, focusing on their love story while tactfully avoiding any mention of the scandal. I anticipate it’ll shift the narrative significantly once it gains more traction.
I boot up my laptop, which groans in protest with its now familiar buffering before reluctantly coming to life. The screen flickers twice before eventually stabilizing. I swear, this thing is on its last legs.
“C’mon, work with me,” I mutter to the machine, opening a spreadsheet where I’ve started cataloging everyone who had access to both sets of information.
The list is shorter than I anticipated. Jonathan, Nathan, and Jake definitely knew about the NorthStar deal. And I only knew because Nathan told me. Kiera likely heard of it because she works closely with her fiancé. Marco wouldn’t have known about anything, other than wedding details. Every person I think about as I mentally go down the list for the tenth time just doesn’t seem right for the crime.
I’m so absorbed in my work that I almost don’t hear the knock at first. I look up to see Nathan through the glass panel of my door, holding a cardboard tray of coffee in one hand and a pink box in the other. A large bag hangs from his wrist.
My heart does a complex little flip that I immediately try to suppress. This is business, I remind myself. We’re working together to solve a problem, nothing more. What will happen afterward is another bridge I don’t plan to cross until I have to.
“Come in,” I call, straightening involuntarily.
Nathan pushes the door open with his shoulder, the familiar scent of coffee and something sweet filling the small space. He looks better; not as tired. The dark circles under his eyes have begun to subtly subside. Overall, there’s a determined energy about him.
“Morning,” he says, setting the coffee tray and box on my desk. “I figured we could both use the caffeine. And sugar never hurts when trying to solve mysteries.”
I can’t help but tease him. “Spoken like someone who watched too many Scooby-Doo episodes as a kid.”
He plays along. “Jinkies!”
I let out a small giggle before turning serious again. “Thank you.”
I accept the vanilla latte he slides toward me—he still remembers my order, an extra shot and light on the foam. That shouldn’t matter, and neither should the fact he made me laugh, yet they do.
He sets down the shopping bag and pulls up a chair. “I’ve been going over the security footage again. Still can’t get a good look at her face, so I’m having Scott work on enhancing what we have.”
I nod, opening my laptop again only for the screen to go dark. Again. “You have to be shitting me. Not again.”
“Before we go on swearing like sailors…” He places the large bag on my desk and pulls out whatever is inside. “I brought you this.” He shows me a sleek laptop box. “If we’re going to investigate, we’ll need two functioning computers.”
I stare at the brand-new laptop, look up at him, then look back at the device again, hesitating. “Nathan, I can’t?—”
“Yes, you can,” he interrupts. “Consider it a tool for the job or a small step toward making amends. Either way, we need it. You need it.”
He isn’t wrong. And his directness makes it harder to refuse. He’s just about pointed out every reason I need a new laptop. Rejecting it would be a disservice to myself, especially when I need one now.
“Okay,” I concede. “But only because it’s for the investigation.”
As he unpacks the laptop with methodical precision, I slide my notepad toward him. “I’ve been working on a list of who had or could’ve had access to both sets of information and potential motives.”
His brows furrow in concentration as he scans the names. “Short list. Not surprising. I came to the same conclusion too.”
“I wondered.” I breathe out a long sigh. “I keep having this feeling there’s a connection we’re missing. What if there’s another person we haven’t considered?”
“Who are you suggesting?”
I shrug. “I don’t know. Haven’t gotten that far. But one thing is for sure, these attacks feel personal.”
“That text message I received certainly did feel that way,” he agrees.
I reach for a donut, suddenly needing comfort food. “Let’s think outside the box. Is there anyone that comes to mind to you who’d benefit from either event?”
“Besides Knight Industries’ competitors? Hard to say.”
“Same here.”
We fall into contemplative silence as Nathan continues setting up the new laptop. The machine whirs to life with none of the painful delays I’ve grown accustomed to. My old laptop sits beside it, the screen dark again despite being plugged in.
Nathan frowns at my old computer, his expression shifting from concentration to something that looks more like he’s solving a puzzle. He taps a few keys, and to my surprise, the screen flickers back to life.
“How’d you do that?” I ask. “I’ve been wrestling with that thing for months.”
He doesn’t answer immediately, his attention focused on my laptop’s display. I notice his posture change subtly. His shoulders tensing, eyes narrowing, his whole demeanor becoming more alert.
“Do you mind if I check something?” he asks, already pulling the laptop closer to him.
“Be my guest,” I reply, sipping my latte.
I watch as he navigates through several screens, his fingers flying across the keyboard with practiced precision. Task manager. Performance monitor. System configuration. Places I wouldn’t think to look.
“How long has this laptop been acting up?” he asks, his voice slightly distant as he continues to assess whatever he’s seeing.
“A little over three years,” I answer. “Got progressively worse. I’ve had tech support look at it several times, but nothing they did fixed it for long.”
He nods, continuing his analysis. “And this started…?”
“After Bethany and I decided to split.” I pause; an older memory pops into my mind. “Actually, no. It started before that. Right around the time of the NorthStar leak, now that I think about it.”
Nathan’s hands freeze over the keyboard. His expression sharpens, and he looks up at me with a strange intensity. “Quinn, how did you set up this laptop?”
“I didn’t.”
“Then who did?”
“Bethany did. She handled all our tech stuff, including this computer.”
“Is that laptop for work use or personal?”
“Both.”
“And she had full access to it? Administrative rights?”
The question seems off, but I nod. “Sure. We were partners, I trusted her with everything back then.”
He leans back in his chair, a muscle ticking in his jaw. His gaze shifts back to my laptop, then to me, anger behind his eyes.
“What?” I ask, suddenly uneasy. “What did you find?”
Nathan checks his watch. “I’d like to discuss this, but not here.” He turns the laptop so the screen faces away from the door. “Let’s grab some fresh air.”
His tone is deliberately casual, but there’s an undertone that raises goose bumps on my arms. He tilts his head toward my old laptop’s camera, his message clear without being spoken.
Could someone be listening? Watching?
My blood runs cold. I follow his lead, keeping my voice steady as I respond. “Sure, I could use a coffee refill anyway.”
Once we’re in the stairwell with the door firmly closed behind us, his casual demeanor drops instantly.
“I think your computer has been compromised,” he says in a low voice. “If I’m right, someone could be listening to every conversation in your office.”
“What?” I stare at him in disbelief. “How is that possible?”
“Spyware,” he confirms. “Not the basic kind either. This is sophisticated stuff—military grade. It’s designed to run deep in your system where standard diagnostics would never catch it. That’s why none of those ‘fixes’ worked.”
My mind spins, trying to process what he’s saying. “You mean like a virus?”
“Much worse. This type of software can activate your microphone, your webcam, track your keystrokes, access your files—all without you knowing.”
I’m so stunned, I don’t know what to say.
Nathan must see that, because then he continues. “I’ve seen similar patterns before when our security team ran penetration tests. It shows up as a system lag, sudden crashes, battery drain—exactly what you’ve been experiencing. But it’s programmed to disguise itself when diagnostics are running, which is why tech support never found it.”
“You’re saying someone’s been watching me?” My stomach turns. “How long?”
“Given the timing of when you say the issues started,” Nathan says, his voice grim, “this could have been happening since before the NorthStar leak.”
My stomach drops as the implications sink in. The timeline aligns perfectly. The laptop issues, the leak, Bethany’s sudden change in behavior.
Nathan’s expression darkens. “Bethany had full access to set everything up?”
“I guess so. I didn’t think much of it at the time. She was the computer genius of the two of us,” I confirm, the weight of my naivety hitting me. “Bethany insisted on upgrading each other’s laptops,” I say, the pieces starting to click into place. “She kept both of them for a weekend. Said it was for updates and optimization.”
His expression hardens as he watches me begin to panic.
“Oh, god!” I gasp. “My emails, my files—everything?”
“Everything,” Nathan confirms grimly.
A chill runs all over my body. “They could see into my office? My home?” Every late conversation, every confidential document I viewed, every time I’d brought work home…all potentially monitored, recorded, exposed.
“That’s how NorthStar got leaked,” I realize, everything finally starting to make sense. “The night you told me about it, you were at my apartment. I had my laptop there because I was planning to pull an all-nighter after you left. It was open.”
“They saw and heard everything,” Nathan says, the color draining from his face. “Every word of the NorthStar leak, everything I confided in you, was seen by someone else.”
“And they used it to make it look like it was me,” I finish, my voice hollow.
Our eyes meet, the revelation cementing a new understanding between us. Nathan is finally seeing the complete truth and I’m getting the true vindication I deserve. This confirms someone deliberately set me up.
“If the laptop came from Bethany, and she took care of your equipment, it had to have been her.”
I exhale a shaky breath. “Bethany.” I whisper her name, the betrayal cutting deep. As if screwing me over wasn’t enough, she had to invade my privacy and let me take the fall for something she did. “Why would she do this to me?”
“We can’t know for sure it was her. She looks good for the crime, but there’s nothing concrete showing she installed that spyware herself.”
“That’s true. What should we do?”
“Tell me about her,” Nathan says, his attention fully on me now. “When did things start going south between you two?”
“After the NorthStar deal collapsed and you and I had split,” I admit. “She started questioning my judgment, my decisions, and began micromanaging me not long after. Then clients I’d cultivated started mysteriously preferring to work with her instead of me.” I pause, another realization dawning. “Oh, my god. She was probably using information from my laptop to poach clients even before the NorthStar leak. Do you think she used it to get into my phone too?” My anxiety starts to rise.
He pulls me against his chest, steadying me. “No, baby. From what I can tell, the spyware is designed to monitor specific devices, not entire networks.”
I take in a breath. “Small mercies, I guess.”
Nathan’s eyes narrow as he quickly reaches for his phone.
“W-what are you doing?”
“Wait a minute.” His fingers move quickly across the screen. “I had Scott run a background check on you and others around you when you were first hired by my brother. That included Bethany.”
I’m not surprised, but that doesn’t mean I’m not pissed off. I slightly pull away from him. “Seriously?”
“I was skeptical of you. I wanted to cover my bases. I just didn’t have time to fully look into it. And now that I do…” He finds what he’s looking for and begins to read out loud from his screen. “Bethany Wilson. Twenty-nine. BA in communications with a minor in computer science from UT Austin. Multiple certifications in digital security. And”—he pauses briefly—“her ex works for SecureTech Solutions, one of the top security firms in Dallas.”
“That’s right,” I confirm, even more pieces are starting to come together in my mind. “Mercer helped set up our entire office network when we first started our business. He was always hanging around, supposedly doing maintenance. Of course she had the knowledge and the resources to do this,” I confirm to him. “She had Mercer.”
“And the NorthStar leak presented the perfect opportunity to destroy your credibility completely.”
The realization sends a chill through me.
“Now the question is why.”
I wrap my arms around myself, feeling suddenly cold despite the warm hallway. “So what do we do now? Can we just wipe the laptop clean?”
Nathan shakes his head. “If Bethany’s monitoring your activity in real time, she’d immediately know something’s wrong. Advanced spyware like this often has alert protocols that notify the administrator when it’s tampered with or disconnected. For now, I can transfer whatever files you absolutely need over to the new computer.”
“So we’re stuck? She just gets to keep watching?” The thought makes my skin crawl.
“Not exactly,” Nathan says, his expression calculating. “We need to be strategic. If we act like nothing’s changed, we can use this to our advantage.”
“How?”
“We go back to your office. I’ll continue setting up the new laptop, make it look like I’m just giving you an upgrade to help with the investigation. Nothing suspicious. Meanwhile, we’ll keep the old one connected but be careful with what we say or do around it.”
I slowly nod in response.
He continues. “For quick communication in the room, we’ll use the Post-its. Simple messages, but keep them away from the laptop’s camera view. But at the same time, we’ll need to show plausible reasons for the occasional private conversation.”
“Coffee runs,” I suggest. “Lunch and dinner.”
He nods. “Nothing too frequent or obvious. We just need to be smart about when and how we discuss anything sensitive.”
“What about when I’m home?”
“Same rules apply. Keep it on and connected, but be mindful it could be recording. Don’t discuss anything sensitive or personal near it, and whenever possible, close it or keep it in another room.”
“Yeah,” I agree, feeling violated all over again. “I’ll be sure not to change in front of it.”
He grits his teeth; his eyes darken with anger. “Once we have enough evidence, we’ll make her pay for this invasion of privacy. But at lunch, we’ll need to come up with ideas on how to catch her without tipping our hand.”
“Okay,” I nod, turning back to the door of my office. “I can do this. Time to put on a show.”
“Ready?” His expression is grim but determined.
After we reenter my office and take our seats, Nathan continues setting up the new laptop, carefully positioning it so the screen isn’t visible from the webcam of my old computer.
Ten minutes later, after listing several files on a Post-it note, Nathan manages to transfer them over to my new laptop.
I can’t believe what has unraveled. For the first time ever, I have a real lead pointing to who might be behind everything. But while Nathan has chosen to help me, a complete contrast from a year ago, is this better behavior of his here to stay? If something came between us again, would he stay by my side? Would he believe and love me unconditionally like he should have in the first place? I push the thought away. That’s a whole other bridge I’ll cross when I get there. And for right now, I don’t need to borrow trouble.
“What now?” I ask quietly, the enormity of the discovery settling between us.
Nathan writes on a yellow Post-it, before sliding it toward me. He’s written:
If we’re going to prove Bethany is the culprit, we need to prove it conclusively.
Grabbing another blank sticky note, he begins to write more. His hand moves swiftly as he writes. After he’s done, he pushes the note in my direction.
Then make her pay for what she’s done. To you. To us. To Jonathan and Kiera.
The us catches my attention—an acknowledgment that we were both victims of this deception.
While discussing mundane details about the wedding venue aloud, Nathan and I continue writing notes out of the camera’s view. At some point, he writes:
The evidence we have is good, but circumstantial at best.
I turn my head to face him. “I agree, the security will need to be better than their normal.”
He must understand what I’m trying to say because then he starts writing again as he keeps up the casual conversation. “How many agents do you think we’ll need? It’s not like they’ll need an entire army.”
We need to set a trap.
I read his response as I keep up the ruse. “Maybe not an entire army, but enough to cover the perimeter.” I then write back:
100%. We talk freely at lunch. When we’re not being listened to.
The discovery of the spyware has shifted everything—not just our investigation, but the landscape between us. I never thought I’d see the day we’d truly be on the same side again.
Though the wound that divided us is far from healing, at least we both understand how it was inflicted. And more importantly, more than likely, by who.