“Stop lying to me.”The words came out calm, which surprised him. His chest was on fire, his hands shaking, but his voice stayed level, almost polite.His wife didn’t look up from her tablet. “I’m not lying.” “You changed your passcode.”That finally got her attention. She raised her eyes slowly, irritation flickering before it gave way to something smoother. Colder. “So?”“So you promised we wouldn’t have secrets.”She sighed, like he was a child dragging mud across a clean floor. “I promised a lot of things before I became CEO.”“That’s not an answer.”She set the tablet down with deliberate care. “Listen to yourself. You quit your job. You chose to stay home. Don’t act as if I forced you.”“I did it for you.”“No,” she corrected. “You did it because you wanted to feel needed.”The words landed harder than a slap. He swallowed. “Is there someone else?”A beat. Just one. Too long. She laughed softly. “This again? You’re paranoid.”“Then let me see your phone.”Her smile sharpened. “A

The phone rang. He didn’t reach for it. Instead, he said, “Three seconds.”The ringing stopped. A message alert chimed immediately after. He exhaled slowly and picked up the phone. Unknown Number: Hey, just checking in. You okay? Big day today.He stared at the screen. “Linda,” he said softly.The phone rang again, right on cue. He answered before the first full vibration ended. “You’re calling because you think I’m about to do something stupid.”There was a sharp pause on the other end. “…How did you know it was me?”“Because you always do this,” he replied calmly. “Whenever she has a major milestone, and I go quiet, you panic on her behalf.”“That’s not,” Linda hesitated. “Are you alright?”“You’re standing in the hallway outside Conference Room B,” he said. “You’re pretending to review notes, but you’re actually watching the clock.”Silence. Then, very carefully, “That’s not funny.”“I’m not joking.”“How could you possibly know that?”He leaned back against the kitchen counter, ey

“You look smaller up close.”The words followed him halfway to the exit. He stopped. Slowly, he turned around. Evan stood a few steps behind him now, drink still in hand, smile relaxed, too relaxed.The crowd had loosened again, laughter returning in cautious waves, but something brittle hung in the air. Curiosity. Anticipation. “What did you say?” he asked.Evan tilted his head. “I said you look smaller. Guess stepping out of the spotlight does that to a man.”She spun toward Evan. “That’s enough.”“No,” Evan said lightly. “He started this. I’m just finishing the conversation.”He stepped closer, voice dropping. “You know what she used to say about you?”He didn’t answer. “She said you were essential,” Evan continued. “Like scaffolding. Necessary while the building goes up.”A few guests leaned closer. “Then you tear it down,” Evan said, smiling. “Because no one wants to see it once the view is finished.”“That’s not true,” she snapped.Evan glanced at her. “Isn’t it?”He looked back

“You’re asking for assets you don’t legally control.”The attorney’s tone was careful. Too careful. Across the table, she sat perfectly straight, hands folded, face composed in a serene enough expression to fool strangers.The glass walls of the conference room reflected her confidence in her like a crown. He leaned back in his chair. “No,” he said. “I’m asking for assets I built.”She laughed softly. “You cooked dinners.”“I structured cash flow,” he replied. “I negotiated early vendor contracts. I rewrote the first investor deck when your English wasn’t good enough to sell ambition.”Her smile twitched. “That was informal support,” her attorney cut in. “There’s no documentation.”“There is,” he said calmly.He slid a folder across the table. Not thick. Precise. Emails. Drafts. Timestamped revisions. Wireframes. A signed NDA she’d forgotten she'd made him sign, one that listed him as a Strategic Consultant.Her attorney flipped pages, frowning deeper with each turn. “You never told m

“They want to meet.”The voice on the phone was careful, practiced. A man used to saying dangerous things without sounding like it. “Who?” he asked.A pause. Just long enough to matter. “People who have an interest in how this ends.”He smiled faintly. “That’s vague.”“It’s intentional,” the man replied. “Tonight. Private room. No records.”He didn’t hesitate. “Send the address.”The call ended. He didn’t ask how they’d gotten his number. He already knew. The restaurant sat above the city, glass walls curving outward like the edge of a blade. No signage. No reservation list.The kind of place where money didn’t announce itself, it assumed obedience. He arrived alone. Inside, three men and one woman waited.All dressed impeccably. Silk suits. Subtle watches. Calm faces that had never learned panic. She wasn’t there. That told him everything. “Mr. Hale,” the woman said, standing. “Thank you for coming.”“I’m curious,” he replied. “That’s different.”One of the men gestured to a chair. “