Chapter 7 - The Evidence
My fingers were trembling so violently I nearly dropped the phone.
I sat down on the leather armchair in Marcus's office, tapping furiously into my photo gallery. When I had blocked Greg the night before, I had impulsively deleted our text thread in anger, but my phone’s cloud storage automatically backed up all incoming media files to a hidden archive.
Marcus leaned over my shoulder, his warm hand unconsciously resting against the back of my chair. His proximity sent a jolt through me—not of romance, but of desperate partnership.
“Scroll down to October 14th,” Marcus murmured, his breath brushing my temple. “That was the day the first appraisal was uploaded to the bank’s secure server.”
I scrolled past pictures of Maya’s first day of kindergarten, soccer practice videos, and family dinners. Then, there it was: an image file sent from Greg’s number.
I tapped it.
The image expanded on the high-resolution screen. It was a photograph of a computer monitor showing a detailed breakdown of the 4th Street property’s valuation, debt service ratios, and projected margins.
Marcus let out a low, sharp intake of air. He leaned in closer, his thumb zooming in on the upper-right corner of the image.
“Look there,” Marcus whispered, his voice vibrating with sudden adrenaline. “See that string of red alphanumeric digits? *EMP-4089-SEC*.”
“What is that?” I asked, looking up at him.
“That’s the unique workstation identifier for the loan origination desk in our regional office,” Marcus said, his eyes blazing. “And employee 4089 is Bradley Miller. Greg’s older brother.”
“Bradley took a picture of his own company computer and sent it to Greg,” I realized, the pieces locking together in horrifying clarity.
“Not just that,” Marcus said, taking my phone gently from my hands. “Bradley didn’t just access public records; he accessed my private, encrypted loan application file before it was even submitted to the underwriting committee. That’s a federal banking violation. It’s corporate espionage.”
Marcus looked down at me. The icy detachment that had cloaked him since the party was gone, replaced by the razor-sharp, brilliant strategist I had fallen in love with in college.
“Can this save you on Monday?” I asked, hope fluttering fragilely in my chest.
“If this metadata is intact, it won't just save me,” Marcus said quietly. “It will disqualify Miller Development from ever bidding on municipal property again, and Bradley will be escorted out of the building in handcuffs by noon.”
He stopped, his gaze dropping to my face. For a fleeting second, the heavy sadness returned to his eyes.
“You had this on your phone for two weeks, Elena,” he said softly. “While he was flirting with you. While you were texting him.”
The shame hit me all over again, cold and heavy. “I didn't look at it, Marcus. I swear to you, I didn't care about his spreadsheets. I was just… I was looking for someone to tell me I was pretty. It sounds so sickeningly shallow to say it out loud, but that’s the ugly truth. I was acting like a spoiled, bored girl instead of your partner.”
Marcus didn’t yell. He didn't offer a platitude either. He simply nodded once, acknowledging the truth of my confession.
“We have an emergency meeting with the bank’s legal counsel at three o’clock this afternoon,” Marcus said, turning back to his computer. “I need you to come with me. You’ll have to give an official statement explaining how you received this image, which means you’ll have to put your text conversations with Greg into an official deposition.”
My stomach churned at the thought of lawyers reading my pathetic, flirty texts out loud in a corporate boardroom.
“I’ll do it,” I said without a second of hesitation. “I’ll read every single message into the microphone if I have to. I don't care how embarrassed I am. I’m going to protect you.”
Marcus looked at me for a long moment, the hardness around his mouth softening just an inch.
May you like
“Get dressed, Elena,” he said quietly. “We have work to do.”
***
