Page 45 of Triplet Babies
At the office, I review overnight reports while waiting for Sarah to arrive. The security audit Valentin ordered has uncovered three more dormant accounts with suspicious activity. Someone has been systematically probing our defenses for months and maybe longer. The pattern is too sophisticated to be random and too precise to be anything other than a coordinated attack.
The Nikitins are testing us. I’m sure of it now. I still don’t have concrete proof it’s them, but I care less and less. I’m ready to follow my instincts.
Sarah knocks and enters, looking composed despite the exhaustion I see in her face. She’s wearing a loose cardigan over a simple blouse, with her hair pulled back in a way that emphasizes the delicate line of her neck. Her face looks puffy, and I worry she’s coming down with something, or maybe she has allergies. For a moment, I forget about contracts and threats to focus only on her.
“Good morning.” She sets a folder on my desk. “The greenhouse inventory is complete. I’ve contacted the suppliers about the missing fertilizer shipment.”
“Thank you.” I stand, moving around the desk. “I need you to come with me today. There’s a warehouse inspection that requires documentation.”
She hesitates. “I can prepare the paperwork here?—”
“I need you there. In person.”
Something passes between us, a recognition of what I’m really asking. She nods slowly. “Of course.”
Twenty minutes later, we’re in the armored SUV heading toward the warehouse district. Luco offered to drive, but I want this time alone with Sarah. The silence between us feels different today and perhaps a little less strained. Maybe it’s the exhaustion, or maybe we’re both tired of pretending this connection doesn’t exist.
“I still haven’t signed the contract,” I say, breaking the quiet.
She looks at me, surprise flickering across her face. “The engagement contract?”
“Merger contract is what it really is, and all business, but it includes provisions that don’t sit well with me.” I merge into traffic, keeping my voice neutral. “Katya’s family has been working against my business interests. I’m starting to think the entire alliance is a set-up.”
“What kind of set-up?”
I glance at her, pondering how much to reveal. She doesn’t know the full extent of what I do, but she’s not naïve. She’s seen enough to understand my business operates in gray areas, and danger is always close. “The kind where I sign papers that give them control if something happens to me.”
“And you think something will happen by design?”
“Exactly. I think they’re planning to make something happen.”
She’s quiet for a moment. “What will you do?”
“I don’t know yet.” The admission feels strange. I’ve built my life on certainty and always having a plan. With Sarah, I’m revealingdoubts I’d never voice to anyone else. “What about you?” I ask. “What did you imagine for yourself before everything fell apart?”
She turns to look out the window, her reflection ghostlike in the glass. “I wanted to be a botanist and got a certificate in landscaping. I intended to go back for the actual degree, but...”
“Why didn’t you?”
She exhales deeply. “Life got complicated.” Her voice carries heaviness that makes me want to pull over and demand she tell me everything. “My ex made it impossible to finish my degree. I had to disappear and start over somewhere new.”
“You could still go back to school.”
“Maybe.” She doesn’t sound convinced as she looks at me. “What about you? What did you want before you inherited your legacy?”
The question catches me by surprise. No one has ever asked me that. “I wanted to be an architect. My mother used to take me to construction sites when I was young, showing me how buildings grew from nothing. I thought about designing houses that felt like homes.”
She repeats my words back to me. “You still could.”
I shake my head. “I’ve never had the luxury of dreaming about anything beyond survival.” The words are honest and raw. For a moment, the car feels like a confessional, where we can admit things we’d never say anywhere else.
“Maybe that could change,” she says quietly.
I want to believe her. For a brief, dangerous moment, I let myself imagine a life where I don’t check for threats before leavingthe house, where I can build something instead of constantly defending what I’ve already built.
A life with her.
The warehouse appears ahead, breaking the spell. I park in the underground garage, the familiar concrete walls and flickering fluorescent lights bringing me back to reality. The air smells like motor oil and damp concrete, tinged with a faint metallic scent. This is my world. This is what I am. “Stay close to me,” I tell Sarah as we get out of the car.
