SIX

Julian received the report at exactly 9:17 a.m.

His executive assistant didn’t announce it the usual way. She didn’t knock once and step in briskly, tablet ready, voice neutral. She hesitated outside the glass door long enough for him to notice.

“Come in,” he said sharply.

She placed the folder on his desk with both hands. It was thicker than he expected.

“Sir,” she said carefully, “this is everything we could find.”

Julian flipped it open. The first page was clean. Clinical. Deceptively simple.

Educational Background. Certifications. Professional Affiliations.

His jaw tightened as he read. He saw institutions he recognized, programs that he respected and certifications that weren’t ornamental but brutal to obtain, resource management licences, systems security accreditations, advanced analytics coursework that required years of discipline.

He turned the page. Then another. And another.

He truly did not know the woman he married.

A tech startup registered under her name, three years ago. Shut down indefinitely.

There was a mentor references, archived forum discussions where her ideas had been debated, expanded, respected and a recommendation letter dated two months before their marriage.

Julian stared at the date.

“She…” His voice caught unexpectedly. He cleared his throat. “She was building all this?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And she shut it down.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

The assistant hesitated.

“For personal reasons.”

Julian leaned back slowly. He remembered the apartment back then. The late nights. Her laptop glow. He’d never asked what she was doing because he had assumed it wasn’t important.

“Why would someone like this,” he said quietly, tapping the file, “be serving drinks in a lounge?”

They both knew the truth.

She just wanted to be close to you.

His chest felt tight—not with guilt, but with irritation and something dangerously close to unease.

“Where is she now?” he asked.

The assistant swallowed. “Hawthorne Corporation.”

The name landed hard. Julian’s eyes snapped up. “You’re certain?”

“Yes. She started today.”

The room felt suddenly smaller and the assistant shrunk back from the murderous cold aura coming from Julian.

"Is that not betrayal? How do you leave your husband's company and go side with his biggest competitor?", Julian narrowed his eyes in rage.

Hawthorne Corporation wasn’t just competition. It was THE COMPETITION, the one that never rushed, never panicked, never made noise. The one that always quietly won.

Across the city, she stood in the lobby of Hawthorne Corporation with her ID badge warm against her palm.

She hadn’t slept much, from anxiety and a strange sense of anticipation that felt unfamiliar after years of emotional exhaustion.

She was led to a workspace, not a cubicle, not a corner, but a clean office with glass walls and quiet light.

“These are your access credentials,” the HR manager said. “Your role will evolve. For now, we want to see how you think.”

Not if you can do the work. Her hands stilled briefly.

How was this possible? Did she get the role?

She sat down and logged in. The system architecture made her pause. Whoever built this knows what they’re doing.

She smiled faintly. For the first time in years, her mind slipped into focus without fear of interruption, criticism, or dismissal.

An hour passed. Then two.

She didn’t notice the door open.

“Still waters run deep,” a voice said mildly.

She looked up startled and froze.

That was the man from the street, the one she had dragged out of harm’s way.

“Sir,” she said, standing immediately. “I ...”

He waved a hand. “Sit. Please.”

His eyes were sharp but kind, observant in a way that made her feel seen rather than inspected.

“My name is Howard,” he said. Then, after a deliberate pause, “Howard Hawthorne.”

The name settled slowly. Her stomach twisted.

“I owe you more than a thank you,” he continued. “I was in the building that day you came for your interview and I saw how they treated you.”

Her fingers curled slightly.

“And I saw your file,” Howard went on. “Your work. What you paused. What you sacrificed.”

He studied her carefully, speaking in an understanding tone, “Love makes people do very foolish things.”

She didn’t argue.

“I don’t like wasted talent,” he said. “And I don’t like courage going unrewarded. So I asked my grandson to find you.”

She absorbed that quietly.

“Not as a favor,” Howard added. “As an opportunity.”

The door opened again.

A man stepped in. Tall. Composed. Dark eyes that assessed without arrogance with an aura that screamed excellence.

“This is Adrian,” Howard said simply. “My grandson.”

Adrian Hawthorne inclined his head slightly. “I’ve reviewed your work.”

Her heart thudded once.

“And?” she asked, steady.

“You think laterally,” Adrian said. “And dangerously.” A corner of his mouth lifted. “I like that.”

Howard chuckled. “One warning,” he said gently. “If you come here, you don’t run away when life gets complicated.”

His gaze softened but didn’t lose weight, “Don’t abandon yourself again.”

The words struck deeper than she expected. She nodded once. “I won’t.”

As they turned to leave, Adrian paused at the door.

“By the way,” he said casually, “your mentor must have been very disappointed in you.”

Her pulse jumped.

“He only ever took two students,” Adrian continued. “Said talent like yours didn’t come often. Too bad you left it all".

Her mind was racing. But before she could ask what he was talking about, Adrian was gone. How did he know all that?

Back in Julian’s office, another message arrived. Hawthorne Corperation was in the news.

"HAWTHORNE CORPORATION EXPANDS INTERNAL SECURITY DIVISION"

Julian stared at the screen, then at the closed folder on his desk.

For the first time since she left, he truly let himself feel and understand what he lost.

He dialed her number again, it went straight to nothing.