The week moved.
Not quickly, not slowly—just with that steady rhythm that usually ant everyone in the ridian Developnt Initiative had finally hit their stride.
From what I saw at Gray & Milton, the legal teams were actually smiling for once. The engineering division said they were ahead of schedule. Even the planning committees—who were usually allergic to optimism—kept throwing around words like "stable," "solid," and "on track."
It was the calm before a big presentation, but calm was still calm.
anwhile, Val wasn’t calm at all.
She hid it well. She always hid it well. But you can only stay around soone long enough before you learn to hear the tension under the silence—like a second heartbeat that didn’t belong there.
And ever since she’d gone to see Lucien, that second heartbeat had been loud.
By the ti she got ho that evening, I could already tell from how quietly she closed the door behind her that whatever she found—or didn’t find—had only made things worse.
I was in the kitchen, finishing up what Aline started earlier because I was bored. Val stepped inside, set her bag down, and leaned her weight against the counter like she needed the marble to hold her up.
I didn’t push.
She’d talk. She always did, once the storm sorted itself enough to form words.
It didn’t take long.
She exhaled once, slow. "Kai... I need to tell you sothing."
I wiped my hands on a towel and nodded. "Alright. I’m listening."
She sat on the stool across from , elbows on the counter, fingers interlocked like she was keeping them from shaking.
"So," she began, "Gianna and I looked through every file Lucien has signed these past several months. Every authorization, every transfer, every departntal update—anything the system would let us access."
"And?" I asked.
"We found nothing," she said. "Nothing with the na Benjamin Otavio. Nothing with Vanguard Ark Investnts. Not even sothing adjacent. It’s like they don’t exist."
I frowned. "But Trent saw them."
"I know," she said imdiately. "And I believe him. But the digital trail? There’s nothing. It’s clean. Too clean."
I could hear the frustration tucked under every word. Val didn’t like "clean." "Clean" ant soone had intentionally swept.
"So what did you find?" I asked.
She hesitated, then reached into her bag and pulled out a printed docunt—thin, understated, almost forgettable if not for the bold title at the top.
Protheus Acquisition Index.
I raised an eyebrow. "Protheus?"
"That’s what Gianna found," Val said. "It was buried inside a folder that shouldn’t have had anything to do with acquisitions. Wrong departnt, wrong ti stamp, wrong everything."
"And you’ve never seen it before?"
"Never," she said. "And the firm listed on the docunt—the one allegedly conducting the valuation? Gianna and I traced it. There’s no record of it. Not in our databases. Not in the public registry. Not in historical archives. It’s not a shell company—it’s nothing. Like it was created just to exist on that one page."
I didn’t like that.
Not even a little.
"So... what does the file actually say?" I asked.
"Nothing helpful," she admitted. "It’s vague. Extrely vague. The kind of docunt you’d make if you needed sothing to look legitimate but didn’t want it to be understood."
I stared at the title again.
Protheus.
The na sounded grand, purposeful, mythic—exactly the sort of thing soone would choose if they wanted to feel powerful while hiding sothing.
"So," I said slowly, "you think this has sothing to do with Benjamin Otavio and Vanguard Ark?"
"I think this is the only thing close enough to sll suspicious," she replied. "But I can’t prove it. And until I can, I can’t walk into my father’s office and tell him his son might be signing reckless deals with untraceable parties."
I nodded.
That part made sense.
Charlie George Moreau wasn’t exactly the type to take accusations lightly—especially when the accused shared his last na.
"So what’s the next step?" I asked.
She looked up at , and the answer was imdiate.
> "Trent."
I blinked. "You want to go see him now?"
"No," she said, shaking her head. "It’s late. And you have work tomorrow. I’m not dragging you out for a drive across the city after everything you handled today."
"We planned to go over during the weekend."
"We did," she said. "But that feels too far."
I thought about it and she wasn’t wrong.
Even if the Protheus file ant nothing, it ant sothing. The fact that it existed without a trail was bad enough.
"Alright," I said. "We’ll go tomorrow. After work."
Her shoulders eased just a little. Not relaxed, but less tight—like she could breathe again without it hurting.
"Thank you," she murmured.
"You don’t have to thank ," I said quietly. "You’re not doing this alone."
She nodded once, firm but tired.
Then she slipped off the stool, walked around the counter, and rested her forehead lightly against my shoulder—not dramatic, not emotional, just grounding herself for a second.
I didn’t say anything.
Sotis silence did the work for you.
---
We had dinner, though I barely rember what we ate. My mind kept circling the na on that file. So did hers—I could tell from how distracted she was when she rinsed her plate.
We cleaned up, went upstairs, changed, ca downstairs and ended up sitting on the couch, the TV on but ignored.
Val leaned back, head resting lightly on the cushion, eyes half-focused on the screen.
"You’re thinking," I said.
"You’re breathing," she shot back automatically, her usual response whenever she got caught overanalyzing.
It made smile despite the situation.
That was the point of our little routine, lightening things for a second.
"So," I asked, "what’s actually bothering you the most? The file? The missing nas? Lucien?"
She didn’t answer right away.
"Honestly?" she finally said. "It’s the silence."
I waited.
"If Lucien was up to sothing stupid, there should be a pattern," she continued. "An email. A paynt trail. A discrepancy in the logs. Sothing he forgot to hide or sothing he didn’t know how to hide. But there’s nothing. Not even a tiny inconsistency. It’s like everything he’s done in the last three months has been scrubbed clean."
I frowned. "Which ans soone else is helping him."
"Or soone is using him," she added softly.
That possibility landed between us like a weight.
"And Protheus?" I asked.
"It’s either the start... or the cover."
Neither option was comforting.
I sat forward a little, elbows resting on my knees. "Val... did Gianna ask you anything?"
She let out a humorless breath. "Of course she did. She’s not blind. She asked what we were looking for. I told her two nas, nothing else. When we found nothing on them, she asked if sothing was wrong." She paused. "I told her no."
"You sure she bought it?"
"She believes what I need her to believe," Val said quietly. "And she won’t repeat anything until I say so."
That was true. Gianna was loyal to Val first, the company second.
No hesitation. No sugarcoating.
We sat there a while longer, the dialogue from the TV filling the space where our words stopped. Eventually, Val leaned against —not for comfort, but to signal she was done thinking for the night.
I didn’t push more questions.
Didn’t recap.
Didn’t analyze.
Just let the mont settle.
Because tomorrow, we’d finally be chasing answers instead of shadows.
And sothing told we wouldn’t like what we found.
Sothing told Protheus wasn’t just a na.
It was a warning.
---
By the ti we finally made it upstairs and settled into our room, it didn’t take long for Val to drift off.
One mont she was lying beside , her hand resting lightly on my arm, eyes soft but exhausted—the next, her breathing had already settled into that even rhythm that ant her mind had finally shut down.
I watched her for a mont.
Not out of worry.
Just... to make sure she really was asleep.
She’d had enough spiraling for one night. The last thing she needed was pacing the room or scrolling through files like a paranoid analyst.
So I slipped out of bed quietly, grabbed my phone from the nightstand, and stepped into the hallway, closing the door halfway so the click wouldn’t wake her.
I hesitated for a second, thumb hovering over the screen.
Calling Tasha wasn’t exactly on my "things to do at eleven-thirty at night" list. But she knew the financial world better than anyone who wasn’t inside Moreau Dynamics—and right now, I needed soone outside.
Soone who wouldn’t panic Val further.
I hit call.
She picked up on the second ring.
"Wow," she said, voice amused and just a touch groggy. "Kai Tanaka calling at almost midnight. Don’t tell you and your wife got into an argunt and you’re looking for emotional support."
I huffed under my breath. "Hardly."
"Sha," she said. "I give great comfort speeches."
"Yeah," I said. "I’ll keep that in mind. But that’s not why I called."
"I figured." There was a rustle on her end—probably sitting up. "What’s going on?"
I exhaled slowly, rubbing my forehead. "I need your brain for sothing. Hypothetically."
"Oh, we’re doing hypotheticals." Her tone brightened. "This should be good. Go on."
I chose my words carefully.
"Let’s say... soone in a company—high up, not the top, but definitely with access—ets with an investnt firm. They talk. And shortly after, this soone signs sothing. A deal. A contract. Whatever."
"Alright..." she said, intrigued.
"And let’s say," I continued, "this investnt firm looks clean on paper. Like, polished. Too polished. But off-paper? They’re known for... questionable acquisitions."
"You an predatory." Her voice sharpened instantly.
"Potentially," I allowed. "Now, let’s also say there’s no trace of the eting in any internal logs. No nas. No digital fingerprints. Nothing. Except maybe one file—a vague one—that shows up where it shouldn’t."
"Uh-huh." She paused. "And what are you trying not to say, Kai?"
I leaned against the wall, lowering my voice even though Val was asleep.
"That maybe... soone signed sothing they shouldn’t have. And they might not even understand what it actually does."
Silence stretched for two seconds.
Then Tasha let out a slow, low whistle. "And you’re calling because you want to know just how bad that could be."
"Pretty much."
"Well," she said, "if the investnt firm is the type I think it is, then hypothetically? Worst-case scenario... that ’soone’ may have just sold part of the company."
I went still.
She kept going.
"And the fun part is—" She didn’t sound amused. "—if the deal was structured cleverly enough, this guy might not even realize that’s what he signed. So predatory firms specialize in that. Hidden clauses. Reassignnt triggers. Diluted share rights. Buried control transfers."
My jaw tightened. "How hidden are we talking?"
"Hidden as in," she said, "you think you’re signing a partnership agreent... when in reality, you’re signing away voting power or percentage ownership. It’s old-school corporate theft dressed up as ’investnt support.’"
I closed my eyes.
Protheus.
Lucien.
No digital trail.
Yeah, it all fit way too easily.
Tasha wasn’t finished.
"And if this hypothetical company is working on a massive developnt projects, that makes them even more attractive targets. The social value alone would make acquisition vultures foam at the mouth."
I swallowed. "Is there any way to undo sothing like that?"
"Maybe," she said. "Depends on timing. Depends on signatures. Depends on how deep the damage is. But if the person already signed... you’re not looking at undoing. You’re looking at containnt."
My grip tightened around the phone.
Containnt.
Great.
Exactly what we didn’t need.
Tasha exhaled again, softer this ti. "Kai... whoever this is, they need to be careful. If it slls wrong, it probably is. And if the trail is too clean? Soone cleaned it."
Tell sothing I didn’t know.
"Thanks," I said quietly. "I appreciate it."
"I know you do." She paused. "And hey... whatever this is, make sure you’re careful too."
"I will."
"And if you ever need hypotheticals again," she added lightly, "call earlier. I charge extra for midnight mysteries."
I almost smiled. "Noted."
We exchanged a quick goodnight, and I ended the call.
The hallway felt colder when the line cut out.
I slipped my phone into my pocket, looked toward the bedroom where Val was asleep, completely unaware of the conversation I’d just had—and of the possibility that her brother might have accidentally handed away part of Moreau Dynamics without even realizing it.
I walked back inside and closed the door quietly behind .
Tomorrow, we were going to Trent.
And after that?
We’d start digging.
Because whatever Lucien signed...
It was already much worse than Val thought.
---
To be continued...
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