Chapter 4

Maya’s words stopped me.

The employee beside her lowered her voice. “Didn’t you say Caleb helped you a lot?”

“He threw a few resources my way,” Maya replied with a laugh. “If I were Vivian’s fiancé, I could do ten times as much. I would have earned this position without him eventually. He never needed to interfere.”

So that was how she remembered it.

I did not confront her. I continued toward the conference room, where Ryan was waiting outside. The moment he saw the tablet in my hand, relief crossed his face.

“Caleb, finally.”

He took the tablet and hugged me. “The investors arrived early to evaluate our next funding round. I couldn’t leave, and my assistant is out of the office. Come in with me and take notes for the meeting.”

“I don’t work here anymore.”

“You’ll only be there for a few minutes. Everyone knows you.”

Before I could refuse again, he guided me into the room.

Vivian sat at the opposite end of the table with two representatives from the investment firm. Her expression shifted when she saw me, but she asked no questions in front of them. She simply told Ryan to begin.

Ryan connected the tablet to the screen and opened the final investor presentation. The title slide appeared normally. The second slide was blank.

So were all the others.

The financial projections, product roadmap, and market analysis had vanished.

“How did this happen?” Ryan whispered.

His face drained of color as he closed the file and opened it again. Nothing changed. An uncomfortable silence settled over the room.

Something felt wrong, but I knew how much work Ryan had put into the presentation. I was about to ask the investors for a short recess when Vivian looked directly at me.

“You were the last person who handled the tablet.”

“I picked it up from the study. I never opened the file.”

“Ryan rejected your market proposal last month because your data was outdated,” she said. “Did you delete his work because you resented him?”

Several senior employees immediately joined her.

“I was at that strategy meeting. Caleb was furious when he left.”

“Mr. Mercer spent a month preparing this deck. No one else had access to the tablet today.”

Others avoided my eyes or waited for Vivian to decide what they should believe.

I studied the familiar faces around the table and wondered when the company had become a place where I knew no one.

I had recruited every one of them.

When a competitor accused one executive of falsifying market data, I spent two nights reviewing the raw records and cleared his name. Another employee’s mother needed urgent surgery, so I contacted the hospital and arranged an advance on his bonus. A third had lost several clients during his probation period, and I persuaded Vivian to give him another chance.

I had regarded them as partners who had survived the company’s hardest years beside me. Now they needed no evidence before deciding I was guilty.

Even the LumenWorks logo on the wall came from a design I had helped select. During the first two years, I introduced Vivian to clients, revised Ryan’s proposals, and invested nearly everything I had saved.

Vivian had once placed the company’s first business license on our cramped dining table and told me that LumenWorks held her ambition and my future.

She had forgotten.

“Caleb,” Ryan said, stepping between Vivian and me. “Don’t get upset. It could be a technical problem. We can investigate.”

I looked past him at Vivian. She did not withdraw the accusation. Instead, she ordered a technician to inspect the tablet.

“I left the company’s daily operations long ago, and I am no longer your employee,” I said as I rose. “You have no right to hold me here for an interrogation.”

With the investors watching, Vivian finally hesitated. “I’m only asking you to explain what happened.”

“Then find evidence first.”

I walked out while she began arranging a backup presentation. No one followed me. No one asked whether I had actually touched the file.

As I left the building, the coffee shop called.

“Mr. Reed, we’re downstairs with your order. Who should receive the coffee and pastries?”

Through the glass doors, I looked back at the LumenWorks sign.

“I entered the wrong address,” I said. “Keep everything for your staff.”

After ending the call, I took a cab to Bridgeport.

When Vivian and I first started the company, we had rented a one-bedroom apartment on the third floor of an aging building there. The hallway was narrow, the heating failed every winter, and the kitchen counter barely had room for one person.

Even after we could afford something better, I had refused to give it up. It was our first home.

The corkboard in the living room still held our first contract, old travel tickets, and notes she had written to me. The shelves contained the secondhand books she bought when illness kept me awake. Our narrow window seat remained in the corner where we used to sit together and talk late into the night.

Dust covered everything now. Vivian had not returned since my fall.

I opened the windows and began dismantling the life we had left behind. I removed each photograph, note, and ticket from the board. The books went into boxes, and I carried the blanket from the window seat down to the trash.

Letting go took less time than I had expected.

When the apartment was nearly empty, I messaged the landlord and arranged to return the keys the following morning.

I had just sent the message when Ryan spoke behind me.

“I knew you’d come here.”