33 — An Old Name

**JASMINE POV**

Marcus called on a Tuesday, which felt almost comically ordinary for a conversation I'd been dreading since his name first came up in Ranjiv's investigation three days earlier.

"Jasmine! It's been a while." His voice carried the same easy warmth it always had, nothing in it that suggested a man harboring an elaborate corporate espionage scheme, though I supposed that was rather the point of being good at hiding one, if he actually was.

"Marcus. Hi." I kept my own voice carefully neutral, grateful Ranjiv had coached me through exactly this scenario the day before, over an increasingly elaborate whiteboard diagram he'd titled, against everyone's objections, "Operation Casual Chat."

"I wanted to follow up on the position. I know it's been months, and I understand if things have changed for you, but the director role's technically still open. I thought of you again recently and figured it couldn't hurt to ask."

"Why recently?" I asked, trying to sound curious rather than suspicious, though my heart was hammering hard enough that I was fairly certain he could hear it through the phone.

"No particular reason. Saw an article about Montgomery's recent PR situation, actually, some business dispute making the rounds, and I thought of you, wondered how you were holding up." A pause, something slightly careful entering his tone. "Everything alright over there? The article made it sound fairly serious."

I felt my pulse spike, uncertain whether his question was genuine concern or something considerably more calculated.

"It's being handled," I said carefully. "Business disputes happen. Nothing I can't manage."

"Of course. I didn't mean to pry. Just if things ever get complicated enough that you want an exit, the offer stands. No pressure, genuinely. I just think you're wasted on being anyone's assistant, however impressive your actual title's gotten since then."

"I'm a financial analyst, Marcus, not an assistant. Have been for months."

"My mistake. I should keep better track." Something in his tone shifted slightly, and I couldn't quite tell if it was embarrassment at the slip or something else entirely. "How's Japheth, by the way? Still CFO?"

"Still CFO. Still my boyfriend, for what it's worth, since I assume that's the actual question underneath the question."

He laughed, easy, unbothered. "Fair enough. I had wondered. You were always discreet about that particular history when we were in school."

"History that never actually happened, if we're being precise."

"Semantics," he said, light, teasing in a way that felt genuinely familiar, nothing in it that read as calculated to my ear, though I reminded myself I'd thought the same about Dean once, right up until I hadn't.

"Marcus, can I ask you something directly?"

"Always."

"Does your firm have any dealings with shell companies registered through London, Luxembourg, Singapore, or the Cayman Islands?"

The silence that followed lasted just a beat too long.

"That's an oddly specific question," he said finally, his tone shifting into something more careful, more measured. "Why do you ask?"

"Just curious. Professional interest." I kept my voice light, though every instinct in me had sharpened at the hesitation.

"We handle international transactions across dozens of jurisdictions, Jasmine. That's not unusual for a firm our size. Is something going on that I should know about?"

"I can't really say," I said honestly, which was true enough without giving anything away.

"You're being deliberately vague," he said, not accusatory, just observant. "Which, given that you just asked me a very specific question about shell company jurisdictions right after I mentioned Montgomery's business dispute in the news, tells me something's connecting those two things in your head."

I didn't answer immediately, weighing how much to actually say.

"Jasmine," he said, voice softer now, something almost hurt threading through it. "Do you think I'm involved in whatever's happening to Montgomery?"

"I don't know what to think, honestly. Your firm's headquartered in London. You reached out right around the time something concerning started happening at my company. I'd rather ask you directly than wonder silently."

Another pause, longer this time.

"I understand why you'd wonder," he said finally, careful, measured. "I won't pretend that's an unreasonable question given the timing. But I promise you, Jasmine, whatever's happening at Montgomery, I have no part in it. My firm does legitimate work. I reached out because I genuinely think about you, not because I'm running some elaborate scheme to recruit you into a corporate espionage plot." A beat. "Though I appreciate that my reaching out at a suspicious moment makes that very hard for you to simply take on faith."

"I want to believe you."

"I'd want the same thing in your position." His voice gentled further. "Look give me whatever details you're comfortable sharing, the jurisdictions, the timeline, anything at all. I'll have my own people look into it from our end, see if there's any connection I'm genuinely unaware of. If something's actually happening through our firm without my knowledge, I'd rather know that immediately than have you silently suspect me while actual bad actors go unchecked."

I considered the offer, uncertain whether accepting it was smart diligence or exactly the kind of trusting mistake I'd already made once with Dean.

"Let me talk to my team first," I said carefully. "I'll get back to you."

"Of course. Take whatever time you need." A pause, and then, lighter again, some of the old easy warmth returning to his voice. "For what it's worth, Jasmine, I hope it's not connected to me. Not just because of the obvious professional complications, but because I'd genuinely hate for you to have one more reason to doubt people who actually care about you."

"Thank you, Marcus."

"Take care of yourself. And tell Japheth I said hello, assuming that won't start a diplomatic incident."

"No promises," I said, and the call ended on something that almost sounded like a real laugh between us, despite everything.

I relayed the entire conversation to the team that evening, Ranjiv taking careful notes, Japheth's jaw tight through most of it despite his obvious effort to stay neutral.

"He offered to investigate his own firm?" Voss asked, skeptical. "That's either genuinely helpful or an extremely sophisticated way of controlling what information we actually get."

"I thought the same thing," I admitted. "I don't know which it is."

"I can verify independently, without needing his cooperation at all," Ranjiv said. "Takes longer, but it's cleaner. We don't have to trust anyone's self-reporting."

"Do that," Japheth said immediately. "I don't love the idea of handing him a reason to know exactly what we're looking at."

"Agreed," I said, relieved someone had said it before I had to.

"For what it's worth," Kate offered from the corner, where she'd been quietly listening while pretending to scroll through her phone, "he sounds like either a genuinely decent guy caught in bad timing, or a terrifyingly good actor. Both are deeply unsettling possibilities."

"Thanks, Kate. Very comforting."

"I specialize in comfort," she said, entirely unbothered, and despite the tension still coiled tight in my chest, I found myself almost smiling at the familiar, grounding ridiculousness of my found family, gathering once again around a table to face down whatever uncertainty the world kept deciding to hand us.

"We'll know soon enough," Ranjiv said, already typing. "Give me a few days. I'll find out exactly how real Marcus Feld's concern actually is."

Japheth was quiet on the drive home, quieter than usual, and I watched him long enough that he finally glanced over, catching me watching.

"What?" he asked.

"You've barely said anything since I told you about the call."

"I'm trying very hard not to say the thing I actually want to say, because I don't think it's fair, and I'm trying to be better than my first instinct these days."

"Say it anyway. I'd rather know."

He was quiet for a moment longer, hands tightening slightly on the wheel. "I hate that he still gets to be in your life at all. Not because I don't trust you I do, completely but because some old, stupid part of me still remembers being seventeen and terrified that everyone who wasn't me was somehow more deserving of you, and apparently that part doesn't fully go away just because we fixed everything else."

"That's honest."

"I'm trying it out. The honesty thing. Kate keeps telling me it's supposed to be good for relationships."

"Kate's not wrong, annoyingly." I reached over, resting my hand on his knee. "For what it's worth, Marcus has never once made me feel the way you do. Not even close. Whatever this ends up being innocent bystander, actual villain, something in between it doesn't change where my heart already lives."

"I know that. Logically." He echoed my own old phrase back at me, something almost wry in it now instead of pained. "Doesn't stop the feeling from showing up anyway."

"Feelings are allowed to show up. You're just not allowed to let them make decisions for you anymore. I believe that's the whole lesson we've both been working on."

"When did you get so wise about my own personal growth?"

"I've been taking very detailed notes since the goldfish incident. I told you, I should really publish something."

That finally got a real laugh out of him, some of the tension easing from his shoulders as we drove on through the city, the two of us carrying, together, whatever uncertainty still waited to be named.