Chương 7
“That usually means yes.”
I looked at the message again.
“Might be someone trying to help.”
“Or someone trying to move you.”
I appreciated that he said it out loud.
Most people preferred pretending every piece of information came with good intentions.
It never did.
“Can you trace the number?” I asked.
Thomas shook his head.
“Not without going through proper channels.”
“Would that take long?”
“Yes.”
“How long?”
He looked at me.
“Long enough that whoever sent it may already decide whether they want to stay hidden.”
I slipped the phone into my pocket.
“Then I need to find out what was deleted.”
Thomas did not stop me.
He also did not encourage me.
That was something I noticed about him.
He respected decisions without pretending they were automatically right.
“Be careful,” he said.
“I know.”
“No.”
His voice softened.
“You know how to protect documents.”
He picked up his folder.
“I’m asking you to protect yourself.”
I almost responded with a joke.
Something sarcastic.
Something easy.
Instead, I nodded.
Because I knew what he meant.
For eleven months, I had treated the project like a battlefield.
I had protected numbers.
Deadlines.
Technical details.
Client expectations.
I had not protected myself from the people standing beside me.
Outside the building, the wind had picked up.
I stood near the entrance for several minutes without moving.
My first instinct was to call the unknown number back.
My second instinct was not to trust it.
The two instincts fought until my phone buzzed again.
This time, it was Danielle.
“Where are you?” she asked when I answered.
“Leaving Henderson.”
A pause.
“You met with them.”
“Yes.”
“What happened?”
I looked at the people walking around me.
Everyone was busy.
Everyone had somewhere else to go.
“I think Ryan changed the submission.”
Danielle was quiet.
Not surprised.
That was the answer.
“You knew,” I said.
Her breathing changed.
“No.”
“You suspected.”
Another silence.
“Yes.”
I closed my eyes.
“Danielle.”
“I didn’t know what to do.”
“You could have told me.”
“I know.”
“You could have told someone.”
“I know.”
The repetition bothered me.
Not because she was wrong.
Because she was trapped inside her own regret.
“I’m sorry.”
I looked at the glass doors reflecting my face.
I looked older than I had yesterday.
Not dramatically.
Just enough.
“Why did you call?”
“Because I need to tell you something.”
“What?”
“Ryan wasn’t only changing the proposal.”
I waited.
“He was deleting emails.”
The street noise seemed to disappear.
“What emails?”
“I don’t know exactly.”
“Danielle.”
“I saw him in the conference room after everyone left.”
“When?”
“Last night.”
“After the celebration?”
“Yes.”
She lowered her voice.
“He was alone.”
“What was he doing?”
“I don’t know.”
“Then why do you think he was deleting emails?”
“Because I went back for my charger.”
That was such a normal detail.
A forgotten charger.
A small inconvenience.
The kind of thing nobody planned for.
“What did you see?”
“He closed something when I walked in.”
“What?”
“I don’t know.”
“Danielle.”
“I’m telling you what happened.”
Her voice became defensive.
“I saw him close an email window.”
“Did you see the sender?”
“No.”
“The subject?”
“No.”
“Then why are you sure?”
“Because he looked scared.”
I did not answer.
Not because I doubted her.
Because fear was complicated.
People looked scared when they were guilty.
They also looked scared when they were about to be blamed for something they did not understand.
“What happened after?”
“He told me I should go home.”
“Did you?”
“No.”
That surprised me.
“Where were you?”
“In the hallway.”
“Listening?”
A pause.
“Yes.”
I rubbed my forehead.
“What did you hear?”
“Not much.”
“That means something.”
She took a breath.
“He called someone.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know.”
“What did he say?”
Her voice dropped.
“He said, ‘The version she has is a problem.’”
My hand tightened around the phone.
“She.”
Danielle did not need to explain.
We both knew who he meant.
“What else?”
“He said, ‘If Henderson sees the old timeline, the whole thing falls apart.’”
I looked up at the building.
The windows reflected the sky.
Hundreds of people worked inside.
Hundreds of people moving through ordinary days.
And somewhere in that building, someone had decided my work was easier to steal than to respect.
“Danielle.”
“Yeah?”
“Why are you telling me this now?”
The silence lasted longer than before.
“Because when you walked into that room today, I thought I was going to feel angry.”
“At me?”
“Yes.”
The honesty surprised me.
“But I didn’t.”
“What did you feel?”
She swallowed.
“Embarrassed.”
I leaned against the wall.
“Why?”
“Because I spent months thinking I was getting an opportunity.”
Her voice shook.
“And maybe I was just being used.”
I wanted to tell her she was wrong.
That she was young.
That mistakes happened.
That people deserved second chances.
But I also knew comforting someone too quickly could become another way of avoiding the truth.
“You were used,” I said.
She went quiet.
“But that doesn’t mean you can’t decide what happens next.”
“I don’t know if I can fix it.”
“You don’t have to fix everything.”
“What if I lose my job?”
The question was quiet.
Real.
I looked at the folder in my hand.
A year ago, I would have answered immediately.
I would have said integrity mattered more.
I would have said careers could be rebuilt.
I would have said doing the right thing was simple.
Life had become less simple.
“I don’t know what happens,” I admitted.
She was silent.
“But I know what happens if nobody says anything.”
That was enough.
After we ended the call, I went home.
Not because I was giving up.
Because I needed space to think.
The apartment felt different when I returned.
Not safer.
Just familiar.
I placed the red folder on the table and opened my laptop.
The unknown message stayed in my mind.
You need to see what Ryan deleted.
May you like
I searched through every backup.
Every old email.
