Work was easier for the rest of the day.
Or at least, it felt that way.
Sure, the whispers didn’t stop when I walked past the hallway, the faint pauses in conversation, the not-so-subtle glances. But the core team of the ridian Developnt Initiative, the only ones who really mattered, knew where I stood. They knew I was Gray & Milton through and through. That alone made work a little less exhausting.
By noon, Hale had called for a last-minute lunch eting.
When I got there, Hale was already seated at the head of the round table, arms crossed, coffee mug steaming beside his tablet. Tasha, Ji-ho, and Noah were scattered across their usual seats, while Gabriel ca in right after , juggling his phone and half a sandwich.
"Alright," Hale said, clearing his throat as he glanced around. "We’re not here to stress over the files anymore. That part’s done. But we still need to talk about how this happened."
The air shifted, light, but serious.
Ji-ho leaned forward, folding his arms on the table. "You’re thinking inside job?"
"Not exactly," Hale replied, asured. "But it takes a certain level of clearance to access those archives. Soone slipped through our security net."
"So, a spy," Noah muttered, tapping his pen against his notepad. "Or maybe a plant. Soone feeding information from the inside."
Tasha sighed. "An infiltrator, technically. A cyber breach that specific... ans whoever did it knew exactly where to look."
Gabriel chewed thoughtfully before adding, "And exactly what to delete. Nothing else was touched. Just the core Phase I docuntation."
I nodded slightly. "Whoever it was, they weren’t trying to steal. They were trying to erase."
That made Hale’s gaze lift to . "You think it was sabotage?"
I shrugged. "More like containnt. Deleting it entirely ans soone wanted to slow us down, not profit off it. Probably to buy their side ti to get ahead."
"Which side?" Ji-ho said, then instantly winced. "Right. Dumb question."
Tasha shook her head. "No, not dumb. Just... sensitive."
Hale exhaled. "We’re not pointing fingers. Not now. IT’s still doing a forensic sweep. So far, no signs of external IP breaches, which ans—"
"—it ca from within," Noah finished grimly.
The room went quiet.
Then Gabriel let out a low whistle. "Man, that’s comforting."
I leaned back in my chair, drumming my fingers lightly. "Could’ve been through a shared account. A compromised credential. I don’t think it’s one of us."
"Yeah," Ji-ho said. "We’re dumb sotis, but not suicidal."
That earned a few laughs, small, tired ones, but enough to loosen the tension.
Hale gave a small smile too. "You’d be surprised what people do when pressure gets high."
"Not us," Tasha said, her tone sure. "We’ve been through worse."
"Damn right," Noah added, raising his coffee cup. "To surviving another Gray & Milton crisis."
Everyone clinked imaginary glasses in the air before Hale’s voice grounded us again. "Alright, jokes aside. Keep your eyes open. No external drives, no remote access until further notice. IT’s monitoring everything. If anything looks off, I want to know imdiately."
We all nodded, and that was that.
When Hale stood, so did everyone else. Papers shuffled, laptops clicked shut, and chairs scraped against the tile.
I was halfway to the door when Hale’s voice ca from behind . "Kai. A quick word?"
The others filed out quietly, offering polite glances as they went. When the door shut, the faint hum of the air conditioner filled the silence. Hale leaned back against the table, arms crossed, studying like he was asuring his next words carefully.
"The higher-ups called earlier," he began. "About... the conference."
I blinked once, then sighed. "Of course they did."
He nodded, a faint, weary smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "They wanted to make sure you’re still fully committed to Gray & Milton. That you’re not... conflicted."
I laughed under my breath. "Conflicted?"
Hale lifted a hand before I could say more. "I know. I told them you were the last person I’d ever doubt. That you’re the best financial analyst I’ve ever had on a team like this."
Sothing in his tone softened the edge in . Hale wasn’t just saying it to smooth things over. He ant it.
He continued, "But this is asking you directly, man to man, not boss to subordinate. Don’t let down. Not because I’m worried about the company—hell, they’ll survive anything— but because I’ve seen what you’re capable of. And I’m counting on that."
I t his gaze. "You won’t have to worry."
He nodded once, satisfied. "Good. Because, truthfully? You remind a lot of myself when I started out. Only difference is, you’ve got a wife who could probably outsmart half of our board mbers."
That made smirk. "She already has."
He chuckled, shaking his head. "Then maybe you’re dood."
We both laughed, the tension fading out as easily as it had co. That was Hale, Division Head of Corporate Strategy and the Project Director of the ridian Developnt Initiative, but he never made anyone feel like they were below him. To most people, he was a boss. To us, he was family.
When I finally grabbed my bag and left his office, the weight of the day didn’t feel so heavy anymore.
---
By the ti I shut down my laptop and packed up for the night, the office had grown quiet. The city outside the glass walls glowed with the familiar orange of dusk, and the hum of traffic filled the distance.
Val had called earlier in the afternoon, sowhere between emails and data entries, her voice soft and teasing through the speaker. She’d asked what I wanted for dinner.I told her to surprise , and she laughed. "You say that now, but don’t bla if it turns into another one of my culinary experints."
Now, behind the wheel, headlights stretching across the darkened road, I couldn’t help but think about how strange the day had been. The sa boss who once suspected my wife was now trusting to protect the project.
It wasn’t lost on how easily things could’ve gone the other way.
But tonight, all I wanted was to go ho. To see Val, to eat whatever culinary risk she’d decided to take, to just be in the sa space again.
---
Dinner was quick, too. And as usual, she made sothing that tasted better than most six-star chef could dream up. I never understood how she did it, half the ti she claid she just "threw things together," but sohow it always ca out perfect.
After that, I spent the next few hours in my office, sa as her in hers. The house had this quiet rhythm to it, two people working in different rooms but breathing the sa air, sharing the sa silence.
By the ti I finally got back to our room, it was already 10:14 p.m. I sat on the bed, head resting against the headboard, staring at nothing in particular. My thoughts had been looping all day, around the files, the supposed deletion, the question of how.
Was it really a system glitch?
No. It couldn’t be.
It was too precise, too selective.
Every ti I thought I’d reached a new theory, I found myself at another dead end.
The quiet creak of the door snapped out of my thoughts. Val stepped inside, her hair loose around her shoulders, her phone in hand. She crossed the room and slipped into bed beside , scrolling absently through her screen like it was second nature.
I turned to look at her and for a mont, I forgot what I’d been thinking about. She looked beautiful, even in the most ordinary monts. Focused. Serene. Untouchably brilliant.
And then Hale’s voice echoed in my head from earlier that day.
"...you’ve got a wife who could probably outsmart half of our board mbers."
He wasn’t wrong.
I knew her better than anyone and I knew she could do it if she wanted to. Which ant, maybe... just maybe, she could help make sense of this ss.
But then again, she worked for Moreau Dynamics.
Would it even make sense to ask—?
No.
Like she said... we were husband and wife first. Everything else ca after.
I exhaled softly. "Uhm... Val?"
"Mm," she murmured, still scrolling.
"I... need a little advice."
That got her attention. She set her phone down and turned toward , one leg tucked beneath the other. "Okay. What’s going on?"
I hesitated. The words felt heavy, like they might break sothing if I wasn’t careful. "Sothing weird’s been happening at work," I started slowly. "So files... important ones... got wiped from the servers. Completely gone. No traces, no backups."
She didn’t interrupt, just watched , her eyes focused and calm, the sa way she always looked when she was analyzing sothing.
I kept going, choosing my words carefully. "It’s been causing a lot of chaos. We’re trying to figure out if it was an internal issue, or maybe a breach, but..."
Her expression softened, and I caught that look she gave whenever she sensed sothing was weighing down, like my worries automatically beca hers too.
I sighed. "It was the ridian Developnt Initiative files. They were wiped from our server — completely gone. And honestly, I don’t even know what to believe anymore. It was too specific to be random. Like soone knew exactly what to delete."
She blinked, her brows pulling together. "Wait—what?"
I quickly lifted a hand. "Relax. Were deleted. Past tense."
Her shoulders eased the mont I said it. "You almost gave a heart attack," she muttered, exhaling in relief.
I couldn’t help but smile. "The file you saved—’Sleepyhead Husband’—already saved us."
Her lips parted. "Oh." A soft laugh slipped out, part nerves, part disbelief. "Good. Because for a second, I thought you ant it was completely gone."
"Yeah, no," I said, leaning back against the headboard. "We’re fine now. But still..." My voice trailed for a beat before I turned to her fully. "...what do you think?"
She tilted her head slightly, the shift in her expression almost imperceptible. Gone was the brief panic, replaced by that calm, assessing look she wore whenever she was dissecting a problem
"If it’s that targeted," she said finally, "then you’re probably looking at either an inside job or a remote overwrite. But that kind of precision ans whoever did it had access privileges."
I blinked. "Access privileges?"
She nodded, slipping easily into her elent. "aning soone who’s authorized to handle those files, or soone who used those credentials. If your team’s security protocols log IPs, start there. Track ti stamps, cross-check them with your system activity. You’ll narrow it down fast."
I frowned, trying to counter. "But what if the credentials were stolen? That would make it look like an inside job when it’s really external."
Val smiled faintly. "True. But that’s why you check the tadata on every internal login. Timing, location, session length. It’ll tell you more than you think. Trust ."
I stared at her for a mont, processing everything. Then I let out a low whistle. "Wow. You’re right."
She tilted her head, eyes amused. "Of course I’m right."
I chuckled softly, shaking my head. "Thanks."
> "You’re welco."
She leaned back against the headboard beside , and after a beat, she smirked.
> "You know you’re not supposed to tell your company’s sensitive information, right? Especially not when it involves this project."
I shot her a sideways glance. "Soone once told being husband and wife cos first."
Her grin widened. "Exactly."
Silence lingered for a few seconds, the kind that felt warm, not heavy. Then she broke it with, "Are you doing anything Saturday morning?"
I thought for a second. "Uh... no, not that I can think of."
She smiled, all mischief now. "So... sex on Friday night?"
I blinked at her, caught completely off-guard, before bursting into laughter. "What?"
She shrugged, grinning. "You’ve been busy lately, and your wife has needs."
I kept laughing, shaking my head. "You’re impossible."
She nudged my arm lightly. "And that’s exactly why you love ."
"Guilty," I said, still smiling.
Val leaned back again, satisfied, and picked up her phone. The glow from the screen softened her features, and I just sat there for a mont, watching her, feeling that strange mix of gratitude and awe that always ca with her presence.
Because sohow, between all the deadlines, lost files, and sleepless nights, she still managed to make everything feel... steady.
Like always.
---
To be continued...
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