The quiet of the apartment was broken by the sudden ringing of a phone. The sharp chime cut through the stillness, drawing Brandon's attention from where he sat. He barely glanced up before calling out, his voice steady but uninterested.
"Natalia, your phone's ringing."
From the kitchen, he heard her response, light and distracted as she continued cleaning up. "Yeah, I'll be there in a second."
Something about the situation unsettled him. Perhaps it was the late hour or the nagging feeling that had been growing inside him for weeks. His eyes drifted to the phone lying on the table, its screen flashing with an incoming call. Without really thinking, he leaned forward and picked it up, his curiosity getting the better of him. He wasn't planning on answering—just a glance, just to see who was calling.
The name on the screen sent a ripple of unease through him.
Forensic Cybersecurity.
Brandon let out a dry chuckle. "Who even saves numbers like this?" he muttered under his breath. Typical Natalia—always precise, always organized. But then, his amusement faded, replaced by a slow, simmering irritation. Why was someone from forensic cybersecurity calling her this late at night?
His jaw tightened as he remembered the man who had always hovered around Natalia, the one who never seemed to stay away from her. Without giving it much thought, Brandon's thumb pressed the button to end the call. His frustration burned beneath the surface, tightening his grip on the device.
The moment he ended the call, a message popped up on the lock screen. His gaze flickered over the words, and his stomach twisted.
Congratulations on leading the investigation, Natalia. Your work has been invaluable. Appreciate your efforts.
What investigation?
Brandon frowned. Natalia had mentioned something about work, but she had brushed it off, making it sound insignificant. But this message—this was anything but insignificant. A cold sensation spread through his chest as suspicion took root.
His fingers hovered over the screen. A battle waged inside him, but the fear, the need to know, won. His hand moved on its own, navigating through the phone. The more he scrolled, the deeper the pit in his stomach grew.
Transaction records.
Communication logs.
A name—his name.
The realization hit him like a blow to the ribs. She knew.
The breath rushed out of his lungs as he pieced it together. If she had this information, if she had access to these records—then she wasn't just close to the truth. She had already found it.
And worse—maybe she had already reported it.
His pulse pounded in his ears as panic coiled around his throat, suffocating. This was it. If this was the lead she had been working on, then it was over for him. It was only a matter of time before everything unraveled.
Betrayal.
The word clung to his thoughts, suffocating him. He had done everything for her—crossed lines, buried secrets, silenced threats—all for her. And yet, here she was, dismantling everything he had built.
The weight of his mistakes bore down on him as the realization settled in. He hadn't been careful enough. He had allowed himself to trust her. To believe that she wouldn't do this to him.
"Who was it?"
Natalia's voice was steady, but when he looked up at her, he caught it—the flicker of tension in her eyes. She was trying to hide it, but it was there.
He said nothing. Instead, he held out the phone, his fingers clenched so tightly around the device that his knuckles turned white.
A heavy silence filled the room.
"Natalia… do you know?" His voice was barely a whisper, laced with something raw and unreadable.
She didn't answer. She didn't have to.
The silence told him everything.
Anger surged through him like wildfire, his restraint slipping. "Did you know about it?" His voice was sharper now, edged with something dangerous.
Natalia's lips parted, but when she finally spoke, her voice was soft, almost fragile. "Yes."
The single word shattered whatever was left between them.
Brandon's grip tightened around her wrist before he even realized what he was doing. He pulled her down onto the sofa beside him, his mind spinning in a chaotic whirlwind of rage and disbelief.
"I don't know, Natalia." His voice trembled, his eyes boring into hers. "Should I protect myself… or you?"
She flinched, her body rigid beneath his touch.
"Brandon, please," she whispered, her tone pleading, desperate. "I can still fix this. You don't have to do anything drastic."
Her words rang hollow in his ears. Fix this? There was no fixing this. She had already undone everything.
"How?" he barked, his frustration spilling over. "By turning me in? By playing the hero?"
Her silence stretched between them, an answer in itself.
Brandon ran a hand through his hair, his breathing uneven. His world was collapsing around him, and the woman he had trusted most was the one who had struck the final blow.
Natalia remained still, her gaze avoiding his. The tension was suffocating. He rubbed his hands together, trying to ground himself, but the anger, the fear—it was too much. His vision blurred with the weight of it all.
She was going to run. He could see it in her eyes.
Brandon shot to his feet, his movements abrupt, making Natalia jolt. Before she could react, he grabbed her wrist and pulled her up with him.
"What are you doing?" she gasped, her voice shaking as she stumbled to keep up with his sudden, forceful movement.
He didn't answer. Words wouldn't fix this.
Without pause, he dragged her into the bedroom, his grip unrelenting. When they reached the bed, he pushed her down onto the mattress. Natalia didn't fight back. She simply sat there, motionless, as though she knew resistance was futile.
Brandon paced back and forth, his mind spiraling. Every step felt heavier as he struggled to grasp the enormity of the situation. His entire world had been upended, and he didn't know if Natalia was his enemy or just as trapped as he was.
He turned to her, his breath ragged. The room felt smaller, the walls pressing in around him. The thought clawed at him—was this the end?
Was this where everything fell apart?