Chapter 22: What He Knows

Rosa's POV

I was halfway down the second-floor corridor when Quinn's call came in.

I picked up before the second ring. "What?"

"Found your phone."

I stopped walking. "What do you mean you found it?"

"I mean, I found it." Her fingers were already moving fast in the background; I could hear them. "I ran a bypass trace on the IMEI. Took me all morning, but the signal is active, Rosa. Someone has it powered on."

My stomach dropped. "Someone has it."

"Someone has it, and they're in your building." A short pause. "Beaumont Estates. You need to move right now."

I was already moving.

"Talk to me," I said quietly, keeping my head down as I passed two junior agents without making eye contact. "Where exactly?"

"I'm narrowing it." More keyboard sounds. "It's not on your floor. Signal's pulling higher." A pause that lasted just a second too long. "Executive wing, Rosa."

My steps slowed; it was an executive wing.

"Quinn."

"I know."

"Tell me it's not—"

"Still narrowing." She went quiet, and that silence was worse than anything she could have said out loud. Then, softly, "It's one room."

I already knew. I think I knew the moment she said executive wing.

"Andres' office," I said.

She didn't answer right away.

"Quinn."

"Yes," she whispered.

I exhaled and turned the corner toward the stairwell, taking the stairs instead of the elevator. I needed the few extra seconds. My mind was already running, sorting through everything sitting on that phone. The messages. The chip conversation. The things Quinn and I had typed out casually, back and forth, like no one would ever read them.

Because no one was ever supposed to.

"How many messages have you sent since I lost it?" I asked.

The room went silent. "Seven."

Seven unread messages. All sitting there with enough in them to pull the whole plan apart if the right person read them carefully enough. And Andres was not the kind of man who read things carelessly.

"Can you wipe it remotely?" I asked, already half knowing the answer.

"Not without triggering a notification on the screen. Whoever is holding it would watch it happen."

"So, I have to go in."

"You have to go in," she said. "Rosa. If he's already read anything—"

"Then I deal with it." I pushed through the door into the executive corridor and let it fall shut behind me.

The floor up here was different. It was quieter. The kind of quiet that felt intentional, like everyone who worked here had learned to move without disturbing the air.

I slowed as I got closer.

The office door was open. It wasn't that wide, just slightly ajar, the way it looks when someone walked in and didn't bother pulling it shut behind them. Soft light came through the gap, and I could hear voices on the other side. It was low and calm. Not arguing, just talking.

I recognised Evans' voice first.

I stood outside for two seconds, just breathing. Then I pushed the door open and walked in.

The conversation cut off the moment I stepped through. Evans looked up first, surprise moving across his face before he could catch it. Then Andres, slower, like he'd already heard me coming and was deciding his own timing.

He was at his desk.

My phone was in his hand.

Not tucked away, not lying face down on the surface. In his hand, screen up, his thumb resting along the side the way you hold something you've been looking at for a while.

Nobody spoke.

I walked further into the room and stopped in front of the desk. Evans shifted slightly to the side. I didn't look at him. I kept my eyes on Andres, and he kept his on me, and neither of us moved for a moment.

His expression gave nothing away. That was what bothered me. It wasn't because of guilt or anger or the look of someone caught doing something wrong. Just steady grey eyes, watching me the way you watch someone when you already have the answer, and you're waiting to see if they'll give it to you anyway.

"That's mine," I said.

Calm and even. I was grateful my voice held.

He looked down at the phone once. Then back up.

"I know," he said.

He didn't move to give it back.

I held his gaze and understood, quietly and clearly, that whatever Q's messages had given away, whatever he'd had time to piece together sitting here alone with that screen, the window I'd had to get ahead of this had already closed.

I was too late.

The only thing left now was figuring out how much he knew and how long he'd been sitting with it.

Evans cleared his throat softly and set his files down on the side table. "I'll give you both a moment," he said, and slipped out without waiting for a response, pulling the door almost fully shut behind him.

The room got smaller after that.

Andres held my phone for one more second, then set it down on the desk slowly, screen facing up, and slid it across toward me without a word.

I reached out and took it.

Our fingers didn't touch, but it was close enough that I noticed.

My heart made a small flip, and I pinched my wrists, inhaling a long breath. Now isn't the time for my heart to make stupid flips. I still have a long way to go, and now isn't the best time to think about anyone.

My gaze met with his, and I quickly looked away, and he fucking scoffed.

"Brat," I cursed inwardly.

I straightened and held the phone at my side, my expression giving nothing back.

And Andres leaned back in his chair, folded his arms, and looked at me the way a man looks when he's already decided something and is simply waiting for the other person to catch up.