Page 96 of The Boss and the Wedding Mess
Yep. She's talking about me.Heartbreak. My boss. What should I do?
"Okay, what about traces of the software?"
"Nothing there either. Whoever has this USB hasn't done anything with it yet. It hasn't been offered on the dark web, nor have any parts of the code been uploaded."
"I didn't expect that." I lean back again. "Keep watching her. Maybe she wants to let the matter cool off—or maybe she’s waiting for the right moment to blackmail me."
"Okay."
The two of them will have work to do for a while longer. I never wanted to resort to such measures, but I had no other choice.
After the two young guys leave, I find myself confronted with a pile of printed pages.
Messages to her best friend about trivial stuff and a few texts with her parents. I skim only briefly—it feels wrong to pry.
What if I’m wrong about her?
I take the forum pages and read the post she wrote more carefully. In it, she writes quite precisely how she fell in love with her boss, but he broke her heart. She doesn't understand what happened or what she might have done wrong. The encouragement from other forum participants is substantial, butthere are also accusations that one shouldn't get involved with one's boss.
I lose myself in the messages and also read her responses, that she doesn't know what to do now, even considering quitting so she doesn't have to see me anymore.
I go to the kitchen, make myself some tea, and start pondering. On my phone, new pictures of Stephanie pop up showing her at the pool in her house with the comment: "One last time in a bikini before the belly starts growing."
I put the phone down again and keep brooding. Maybe I really am wrong about London. But then, who stole the drive?
I'm the only one who knows the safe’s combination. Not even my father knows it. And London did have the PIN for my phone to delete the photo, but the safe combination is completely different.
On the one hand, her behavior seems suspicious. On the other, there’s always a reasonable explanation.
IknowI still had the USB with the data. No one else entered my office. Just her and Marc. There was no cleaning staff, no other employees.
No—I push away the thought that it could have been Marc. That makes even less sense.
After all, he wants to take my place so I can return to the States. We've known each other for a good twenty years.
No. It must have been London. Perhaps by accident, or she planned it all along to frame Marc.
Maybe she really wants to blackmail me and get her permanent contract that way. Or she’ll pretend she “found” the stick in the trash, hoping I’ll be so grateful that I reward her with the position.
It's late. I should get going now. I check my phone once more and read the message that Matthias Volt sent me.
Soon enough, I’ll see how London reacts when I’m there for the conversation.
An hour later, I arrive at the restaurant and am escorted to a private room by a staff member. Matthias is already waiting for me and raises his whiskey glass in a toast before standing to shake my hand. The employee leaves us so that we can talk in private.
"Thirsty?"
"Of course."
We sit down next to each other, and he pours me a drink so we can toast.
"Are you really not going to hire her?" I ask, glancing at my watch. 8:51. She’s due in nine minutes.
"No. I see a man who’s lost his heart but won’t admit it yet. I won’t interfere."
"Why are you really helping me?"
"It's always good to make connections, maintain them, and build on them. You never know when you might need help. I’ll scratch your back, you scratch mine..." He leans in closer to me: "And let's be honest. You only came here today because you're worried about her."
