Chapter 8: The Anatomy of a Lie
The glass of water on the nightstand was crystal clear, a stark contrast to the muddy confusion in Lena’s head. She stared at it, the silence of the room pressing against her eardrums.
“He wasn’t just a boyfriend, was he?” Roman’s voice broke the stillness. He had moved to a desk in the corner, his back to her, but his posture remained perfectly rigid.
Lena felt the sting of tears, but she blinked them away. “I thought he was.”
“You are an architect, Lena. You analyze structures. You look for the weak points in a building’s foundation.” He turned around, his features etched with a tired clarity. “You failed to see the rot in your own home.”
“Don’t lecture me,” she snapped, though her voice wavered. “He—he was sweet. Sometimes. He worked in logistics. He was supposed to be moving to Seattle next month.”
Roman laughed, a short, humorless sound. “Mark Miller has never been to Seattle. He isn't in logistics. He is a data procurement specialist for the Vane Corporation. He moved into your apartment three months ago because you were the only person with the security clearance to access the blueprints for the Northside Infrastructure Project.”
Lena felt the room spin. The blueprints. She had been working on them for weeks—a secure, city-wide power grid design.
“Why?” she whispered.
“Because if those designs are leaked, the power grid becomes a weapon,” Roman said, stepping closer. “And last night, he wasn’t trying to calm you down. He was trying to force you to give him the override code for your workstation. When you refused, he broke your arm to make you compliant.”
The memory hit her—the crushing pressure of his hand, the sickening snap of bone. She had blocked it out, buried it under the terror of the man in the coat. She looked at her arm, encased in the brace, and felt a cold, hard rage begin to displace the fear.
“Why are you here, Roman?”
“I am an auditor,” he said, his eyes locking onto hers. “I clean up the messes left by people like Mark. Usually, I don’t get involved with the… collateral damage.”
“And why this time?”
Roman walked to the edge of the bed. He didn't sit, but he leaned in, his shadow falling over her. “Because you were the first person in four years who, when I broke down your door, didn't scream. You just looked at me and asked me to stop him. You were fighting back, even when you were losing.”
Lena looked up at him, searching for a lie in his eyes. She found none. Just a cold, terrifying competence.
May you like
“I want him to pay,” she said.
Roman offered a ghost of a smile. It was the most dangerous thing she had ever seen. “Then stop asking questions and start listening. We have less than twelve hours before his employers realize he failed.”
