Chương 10
“That’s impossible.”
“No.”
Lucas corrected him quietly.
“That’s the problem.”
Daniel leaned back.
Four months ago.
He searched through the memory of that month.
Deadlines.
Late nights.
His father’s physical therapy appointments.
Emily working extra shifts because their savings had disappeared faster than expected.
Everything felt blurred together.
“Why didn’t you report it?”
Lucas did not answer.
Daniel closed his eyes.
There it was.
The part where someone protected themselves.
The part where reality became complicated.
“Lucas.”
“I should have.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“Because I thought it was nothing.”
Daniel opened his eyes.
“That’s not like you.”
“I know.”
The honesty made the anger harder to hold.
Lucas continued.
“I saw the login. I saw your name. I figured you had a reason.”
“I would never access restricted files without permission.”
“I know that now.”
“Now?”
Lucas sighed.
“I didn’t know who to trust.”
The sentence hurt because Daniel understood it.
He had spent the entire day looking at people the same way.
Trying to decide who was afraid and who was involved.
“Send me the log.”
“I can’t.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t have access anymore.”
Daniel looked toward the office.
“Someone removed it.”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Yesterday.”
Daniel gripped the steering wheel.
The timing was too clean.
Someone had erased evidence right after using it.
Or someone had erased evidence because they knew someone was looking.
“Lucas, I need you to do one thing.”
“What?”
“Meet me.”
A pause followed.
“Daniel.”
“I’m not asking you to fix this.”
“I know.”
“I’m asking you to stop standing outside the fire pretending you’re not close enough to get burned.”
Lucas was quiet.
Then he said, “Where?”
They met at a small diner twenty minutes away from Northline.
It was the kind of place Daniel would never have noticed before.
The lights were too bright.
The booths were too old.
The coffee tasted like it had been made before anyone decided whether they wanted coffee.
A family argued softly near the window about a forgotten permission slip.
An older man folded a newspaper beside a plate of untouched eggs.
Life continued in small, ordinary ways.
Lucas arrived five minutes late and apologized twice.
Daniel almost smiled.
Some things survived even during disasters.
“You still do that,” Daniel said.
Lucas sat down.
“Do what?”
“Apologize before anyone is upset.”
Lucas looked down.
“Occupational hazard.”
Daniel stirred his coffee.
“You know, you were the only person in the office who apologized when you were right.”
Lucas gave a small smile.
“You were the only person who noticed.”
The moment disappeared quickly.
Neither of them wanted to pretend they were there for nostalgia.
Lucas pulled a folded piece of paper from his jacket.
Daniel looked at it.
“What is that?”
“A copy.”
“I thought you said you couldn’t access the log.”
“I couldn’t.”
Lucas placed the paper on the table.
“I had already printed it.”
Daniel stared at him.
“When?”
“Before they removed access.”
“Why keep it?”
Lucas looked toward the window.
“Because something felt wrong.”
Daniel unfolded the paper.
The first thing he noticed was the timestamp.
The second thing was the device ID.
The third thing was the location.
“Lucas.”
“I know.”
“This came from inside the building.”
“Yes.”
“Which means someone used my credentials from a Northline computer.”
“Yes.”
Daniel looked at the bottom of the page.
A name appeared beside the administrator override.
Not a person.
A department.
Information Security.
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“No.”
“Security doesn’t leak files.”
“They’re not supposed to.”
Daniel looked up.
“Who had access?”
Lucas rubbed his hands together.
“That’s the question.”
A waitress appeared beside the table.
“Need anything?”
Both men looked up like they had forgotten other people existed.
“Coffee,” Lucas said.
“Same,” Daniel answered.
The waitress walked away.
Neither of them spoke until she returned.
The ordinary interruption helped more than either man wanted to admit.
Daniel folded the paper carefully.
“Who else knows about this?”
“Karen.”
“Anyone else?”
“No.”
“Why would Karen keep this from me?”
Lucas looked uncomfortable.
“Because if she showed you, you would have started looking.”
“I’m already looking.”
“Yes.”
“And?”
Lucas met his eyes.
“And maybe she wanted to know what you would do before she gave you the chance to destroy yourself.”
Daniel sat back.
He hated how possible that sounded.
Karen had spent years protecting the company.
Sometimes from outsiders.
Sometimes from its own people.
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying Karen knows more than she told you.”
The accusation felt different coming from Lucas.
Not because Daniel trusted him completely.
Because Lucas rarely accused anyone.
He collected facts.
He avoided conclusions.
“I need to talk to her.”
“She may not talk to you.”
“Then I’ll find another way.”
Lucas shook his head.
“That’s what worries me.”
“What?”
“You always think persistence is the same as survival.”
Daniel looked away.
The comment landed because it was true.
He had spent his entire career believing that if he worked harder, stayed longer, and carried enough weight, problems would eventually become manageable.
He had never considered that some problems grew stronger because he refused to put them down.
His phone rang.
Emily.
He answered immediately.
“Hey.”
Her voice was tense.
“Where are you?”
“Getting information.”
“That sounds like a very Daniel answer.”
He almost laughed.
Almost.
“What happened?”
“I got another call.”
His expression changed.
“From who?”
“The company.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know.”
Daniel sat forward.
“What did they say?”
Emily hesitated.
“They asked if you had ever mentioned a project called Meridian at home.”
Daniel looked at Lucas.
Lucas noticed.
“Why would they ask that?”
“I don’t know.”
Daniel lowered his voice.
“Did you tell them anything?”
“No.”
“Emily.”
“I said no, Daniel.”
Her voice sharpened.
“I said no because I don’t talk about your work.”
He softened.
“I know.”
“No, you don’t.”
The silence afterward was uncomfortable.
Not angry.
Not exactly.
Just tired.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
Emily exhaled.
“I know you are.”
The words carried something heavier than forgiveness.
They carried exhaustion.
“I need you to come home tonight.”
“Not after you solve this.”
Daniel looked at the paper on the table.
“Emily.”
“Daniel.”
He stopped.
She rarely used that tone.
The tone that meant she was scared but refusing to sound scared.
“Come home before you forget you have a home.”
The call ended.
Daniel stared at the phone.
Lucas looked away.
For once, he did not offer advice.
May you like
That was why Daniel trusted him.
Sometimes silence was the only honest thing people had left.
