Semua Bab My Ex, My Ruin: Bab 51 - Bab 60

Elena's POVPrague was three hours by train from Bucharest. We took separate cars, met at the station, and bought tickets with cash under different names.The woman Miguel had found, Katerina Novak, lived in a cramped apartment in the old town, on the fourth floor. No elevator. Windows overlooking a cobblestone street that probably looked charming to tourists but felt like a trap to us.Too many sight lines. Too many places for Apex surveillance to hide.But we were out of options. If Katerina could testify about what UmbraTech had done to her, we'd have our first real witness.She answered on the third knock. Mid-thirties. Thin. Dark circles under her eyes that spoke of sleepless nights."You're the ones Miguel sent?" Her English was accented but clear."Yes," I said. "I'm Elena. This is Adrien."She let us in quickly, locked three different locks behind us, then checked the window before speaking."I don't have much time. They've found me before. They'll find me again." She gestured

Elena's POVWeeks in Bucharest, and Miguel finally had it ready."Marcus Bennett," he announced, spreading documents across the table. Born in Chicago, 1987. MBA from Northwestern. Ten years in corporate consulting. Recently divorced. No kids. Clean credit. No criminal record. Perfect résumé for someone looking to break into high-level finance."Adrien picked up the passport. Stared at the photo of his face, but different somehow. Hair slightly darker. Subtle changes Miguel had made with digital editing."This is who I become," Adrien said quietly."This is who you have to be," Miguel corrected. "I've built his entire digital footprint. Social media going back a decade. Tax returns. Employment history. Professional references who'll vouch for him if called. Even a few speeding tickets to make him seem real.""How did you create all this?" I asked."Some of it's real. I found a Marcus Bennett who died three years ago in a car accident. Childless. Estranged from family. No one to notice

Elena's POVBerlin was gray and cold in late spring. I'd forgotten how much Northern Europe could feel like winter even in May.Miguel had given me everything I needed. Name: Dr. Henrik Volker. Age: forty-two. Former lead engineer at UmbraTech's Berlin facility. Left the company two years ago. Now work as a freelance consultant for clean energy firms.Married. Two kids. Lived in a modest house in Prenzlauer Berg.On paper, he'd moved on. Built a normal life away from Apex's shadow.But Miguel had found something interesting in his digital footprint. Encrypted emails to journalists that were never sent. Draft whistleblower reports that were never published. Search history showing someone researching witness protection programs.Dr. Volker wanted to talk. He just didn't know how. Or maybe he was too afraid.That's where I came in.Miguel had timed my approach carefully. Tuesday morning. Dr. Volker's routine included a stop at a specific café near his home office. He'd sit outside, drink

Elena's POVOver ten months. That's how long it took.Ten months of silence. Of waiting. Of building evidence, while Adrien buried himself deeper into Marcus Bennett's life.Ten months of wondering if he'd survive. If he'd come back. If the person who came back would still be him.The encrypted phone buzzed at 3 AM.I was already awake. I'd stopped sleeping normal hours months ago.It's time. I have access. Need extraction protocol. Can you receive?My hands shook as I typed back: Yes. Ready. What do you need?Meeting. In person. Too much data to transmit digitally. And I need A pause. I need to see you. Make sure I'm still real.Where?Prague. Same café where we met Katerina. Three days. Noon.We'll be there.Come carefully. Morgan's surveillance is everywhere. Assume you're being watched.Understood. AdrienDon't. Not yet. Not until I see you. Just be there.The connection ended.I sat in the darkness, staring at the phone.It was happening. Finally. After ten months of waiting.Adr

Elena's POVSix months in Southeast Asia felt like six years.We moved every few weeks. Bangkok. Hanoi. Phnom Penh. Yangon. Always moving. Never settling.Miguel and I lived like ghosts. Different names in each city.The news cycle had moved on. Geneva was old news. Other crises. Other headlines. We'd faded from front pages to footnotes.But Interpol hadn't forgotten. The warrants remained active. We were still wanted.So we stayed hidden. And we waited.Communication with Adrien was minimal. Too dangerous. Once a month, if that. Brief encrypted messages that revealed almost nothing.Still operational. No compromise. Continuing work.That was it. No "I miss you." No "I love you." Nothing personal that could be used against us if intercepted.Just operational updates. Cold. Distant. Necessary.Miguel spent his days monitoring Apex's activities remotely. Tracking their attempts to rebuild."They're scrambling," he reported one evening in our Hanoi apartment. "Trying to recover the Synap