Chapter 15

The rain finally stopped sometime in the night, i heard it dripping in the alley when i couldn’t sleep and thought maybe the world was being scrubbed clean or whatever but it didn’t feel clean this morning, it just felt… sticky. heavy. i got to the office too early, earlier than anyone should, heels sounding too loud on the tiles, like the place was empty enough to swallow the sound and echo it back at me. i hate when it’s that quiet, the fan humming and that stupid drip in the back alley like someone counting down time i don’t want to spend.

Vincent’s door was cracked open. i don’t even know why i stopped. no, that’s a lie, i do know, i’ve been thinking about it for weeks, that itch in my brain like he’s hiding something, more than he ever says, more than he lets me see. he was at some meeting uptown, smiling and shaking hands, leaving me behind to keep everything neat. i told myself i was just looking for invoices because that’s believable, invoices don’t ask questions. but my hand was already on the knob before i could argue with myself.

the office smelled like him, cedar, ink, that faint stale-paper scent. blinds half-open, stripes of pale light cutting the desk into pieces. i swear my heart was already racing before i touched anything. bottom drawer. neat rows of folders, his handwriting, blocky, like he thinks order can control everything. i almost closed it, almost convinced myself i didn’t want to know, but my fingers stopped on that label: romano construction. contracts.

pulled it out, flipped through. pages and pages, dates, signatures, stamps like proof everything was real, all legitimate. except it wasn’t. it couldn’t be. then i saw it. northpoint holdings llc. never heard of it. cream paper, thick, like it wanted to feel important, heavy in my hands. no address, just a box number, a signature from some m. carrow that could be literally anyone. “mutual development projects.” “discretionary capital injections.” vague words that mean everything and nothing. my stomach dropped.

and then footsteps. my blood went ice. shoved the paper back, shoved the folder, slammed the drawer too loud but didn’t have a choice. dom. coffee in his hand like he just happened to be there, like he didn’t just catch me mid-crime. he looked at me like he already knew. i lied, smooth as i could, “looking for invoices.” i don’t even know how i kept my voice steady. he asked if i found what i needed, and the way he looked at me… i don’t even know how to explain it. like he was giving me a chance to stop lying and i didn’t take it.

i tried to work after that. tried. but the contract kept burning holes in my brain. i pulled up northpoint on g****e like an idiot. nothing. no execs, no website, just some registry like a ghost company. i was about to close the tab when i caught dom looking at me again from across the room. he didn’t say anything but he didn’t have to. it was written all over his face: stop.

lunch didn’t help. i thought maybe air, maybe coffee, maybe sitting in a café like a normal person would make me feel normal. snapped a quick photo of the contract before i left—just in case, though i felt like even doing that was dangerous. my hand shook while i took it, grainy picture but enough. i sat by the window trying to breathe and then dom was across the street, leaning like he belonged there. not watching me but watching. it was worse somehow, pretending not to see me while definitely seeing me. i left without finishing the coffee.

vincent came in at two, all whistling and cheerful, keys on the desk, acting like life was just meetings and good moods. said the project would be our ticket. i wanted to throw northpoint in his face. instead i asked about the romano contracts, playing dumb, pretending i hadn’t touched anything. something flickered on his face for a second, gone before i could pin it down. he said he had it handled. i bet he does.

later, dom leaned against my desk while vincent was on the phone. low voice, sharp edge. asked me what i found. i lied again. said nothing i wasn’t supposed to see. he said my name like a warning, like he was tired of giving me chances. told me to stop digging. i told him maybe he’s protecting the wrong person. i don’t even know where that came from, it just spilled out before i could stop it. his jaw tightened, his whole body tightened, and he said “be careful” like it wasn’t advice, it was a threat disguised as concern.

i stayed late after everyone left, thought about sneaking back into vincent’s office to pull that folder again, but i couldn’t. too risky, too loud, too many eyes. went home instead, laptop glowing at the kitchen table, typing every search combo i could think of until my eyes blurred. nothing. nothing nothing nothing. it’s like northpoint doesn’t exist but it does, i saw it, i held it, it’s stamped and signed and real.

snapped the laptop shut before i broke it. sat in the dark with the name looping in my head. northpoint holdings. like a curse, like a word i’m not supposed to say out loud.

in bed, vincent breathing steady next to me, like the world isn’t tilted, like he’s not wrapped up in something he won’t admit. i lay there wide awake staring at the ceiling, hearing the rain start up again outside, softer this time but steady. i know i should stop. i know dom meant it when he told me to stop. but i also know myself. i’m not going to. i can’t.