Chương 10
Naomi was already reaching for a pen.
I shook my head.
“Was the password correct?”
“No.”
“Any second-factor challenge?”
“No, because the password failed.”
“So someone tried one credential and stopped.”
“Correct.”
“What username?”
“Your full admin email.”
That address was not secret, but it was not something casual acquaintances generally used.
I leaned back.
“Anything else?”
“One more attempt three minutes later against your personal company portal.”
“Correct password?”
“No.”
“Same source?”
“Yes.”
“Then nothing after that?”
“Nothing from that IP.”
I rubbed my forehead.
“Preserve it.”
“Already did.”
“Marcus.”
“Yeah?”
“Do not tell anyone at the company why.”
“I wasn’t planning to.”
“Not even Naomi.”
He paused.
“She’s sitting with you, isn’t she?”
Naomi called toward the phone, “You’re dead to me.”
Marcus ignored her.
“I’ll keep it need-to-know.”
After we hung up, Naomi pointed her fork at me.
“Six weeks ago.”
“Yes.”
“Same morning as Evelyn’s account.”
“Yes.”
“That’s not a coincidence.”
“It might be connected.”
“You are physically incapable of saying anything stronger.”
“I’m trying not to contaminate my own thinking.”
“Your own mother-in-law tried to steal from you.”
“Maybe.”
Naomi pushed her chair back.
“I need stronger coffee.”
She left the table muttering.
I looked again at the timing.
9:42.
Bank account link attempt.
9:46.
Admin portal login.
9:49.
Personal company portal login.
Whoever had the recovery codes had also known enough to try company access.
But they had failed immediately.
That suggested curiosity or desperation rather than technical skill.
Evelyn could barely install printer drivers without calling Ryan.
Ryan, on the other hand, knew my work email.
He knew which portal I used.
He knew that my company’s client contracts required separate administrative authentication.
My throat tightened.
I opened our shared calendar.
That Sunday, Ryan and I had gone into the garage around nine thirty.
I knew because he had texted me a picture of the leaking truck part at 9:28 from twenty feet away instead of walking inside to show me.
I had teased him about it.
The message was still there.
At 9:31 I replied, Coming out.
Fifteen minutes.
Maybe twenty.
Enough.
Naomi returned with coffee.
“If you keep staring like that, the laptop is going to confess.”
“I was outside with Ryan when the attempts happened.”
“So Evelyn did it.”
“Or someone else.”
“Who else was in your house?”
“No one.”
She sat slowly.
“Then why are you hesitating?”
“Because she may have had help before we went outside.”
Naomi went quiet.
We both knew who I meant.
At ten thirty, Rebecca arranged a video call.
She appeared in a navy blouse with wet hair pulled into a low knot.
She looked less like a courtroom attorney than someone about to organize a neighborhood fundraiser.
That lasted until she started asking questions.
“Did Ryan know you kept recovery information in the cabinet?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did he know the key location?”
“Yes.”
“Did Evelyn?”
“Possibly.”
“Any cameras inside?”
“Only exterior.”
“Any footage remaining?”
“Not from six weeks ago.”
“Do you know whether the attempted account link came from your home network?”
“I haven’t confirmed that yet.”
“Can you?”
“Yes.”
“Do it through the bank’s fraud process, not by trying to get clever yourself.”
“I wasn’t planning anything illegal.”
“I didn’t say illegal.”
Her expression sharpened.
“I said clever.”
Naomi covered a smile with her coffee cup.
Rebecca continued.
“Smart people in crisis create terrible evidence because they think they’re conducting an investigation.”
“I understand.”
“Good.”
Then I told her about Marcus’s login records.
She leaned back.
“Now we have two separate issues.”
“Financial and business.”
“And possibly criminal, depending on what actually happened and who did it.”
“I want to confront Ryan.”
“No.”
The answer came instantly.
I frowned.
“You don’t know what I was going to say.”
“I don’t care.”
“He might explain.”
“He might also delete evidence, coordinate a story, move money, or become frightened.”
“He already knows I found transfers.”
“Exactly.”
She folded her hands.
“Lisa, your advantage right now is not that you’re smarter than them.”
I disliked the sentence before she finished it.
“It’s that you’ve stopped pretending nothing is wrong.”
I looked away.
Rebecca softened slightly.
“You don’t need a confession today.”
“I need to know whether my husband helped his mother try to access my company.”
“Yes.”
“But wanting an answer and being entitled to force one immediately are different things.”
I hated that she was right.
After the call, I showered.
Hot water stung the scraped skin near my cheek.
I stood beneath it longer than necessary, staring at the grout line between two tiles because it was easier than thinking about Ryan.
When I came out, Naomi had placed an ice pack on the kitchen counter beside a sticky note.
USE THIS OR I WILL CALL PATRICE.
I pressed it carefully against my face.
At noon, Ryan sent another message.
Can I bring you your medication and clothes?
I typed no.
Deleted it.
Typed I have what I need.
Deleted that too.
Finally I wrote:
Please leave any communication in writing.
His reply came almost immediately.
I am writing.
Despite everything, the familiar dry irritation in that sentence made something inside me ache.
Ryan had always hated technical wording.
Once, during an argument about whether he had forgotten our anniversary reservation, I told him he had failed to satisfy the conditions of our agreement.
He had laughed so hard he could not stay angry.
Now there was no laughter.
Another message appeared.
I need you to know I never gave Mom access to your company.
I stared at it.
I had never accused him of doing that.
Not in writing.
Not specifically.
I showed Naomi.
She read it once.
Then again.
“How does he know that’s what you’re worried about?”
“Exactly.”
“Maybe you mentioned the account attempt.”
“I told him someone tried to connect Evelyn’s bank account.”
“Right.”
“Not the company login.”
Naomi’s mouth tightened.
“He’s guessing.”
“Maybe.”
“Stop.”
“Maybe he is.”
I typed back.
May you like
Why did you mention my company?
The typing indicator appeared.
