My eyes were vibrating. Not metaphorically, they were actually twitching from staring at the neon blue lines on the glass desk for so long.
I'd been in this freezing, windowless bunker for five hours. Or maybe it was six. It's hard to tell time when you're surrounded by black boxes that hum like a swarm of angry bees. I slumped back in the chair, feeling the ache in my lower back, and let out a long, shaky breath.
"This is what you wanted, Lia," I told myself, but my brain wasn't convinced.
My brain wanted a pillow and a giant bowl of cereal.
I heard the heavy thud of a door closing somewhere in the distance. I didn't have to turn around to know it was him.
Liam didn't walk like a normal person; he walked like he was counting the steps it took to win a race.
"You're squinting," he said. His voice was rougher than it had been at the penthouse, probably because he was as tired as I was, even if he wouldn't admit it.
I finally turned the chair. He'd taken off his suit jacket and rolled his sleeves up to his elbows, exposing forearms that looked way too strong for a guy who spent all day behind a desk. He was holding two paper cups.
"I'm not squinting. I'm focusing," I lied, though my eyes felt like they were full of sand.
Liam didn't buy it. He walked over and set one of the cups in front of me. The smell of coffee was the best thing that had happened to me all day. I reached for it, but he tapped the top of the desk first.
"No sugar. No cream," he warned.
"Sugar makes you spike, then you crash. I can't have you crashing while the London markets are opening."
I took a sip. It was bitter, hot, and tasted like battery acid, but it did the trick.
"You're a real joy to work for, you know that? Most people give their employees a 'good job' or a donut. You give me black coffee and a lecture on glucose levels."
Liam didn't snap back. Instead, he pulled up a stool from across the room and sat down right next to me. Not "manager" next to me, he was close enough that I could feel the heat radiating off his arm. In this freezing room, he was like a space heater.
"Show me what's making you squint," he said, ignoring my attitude.
I sighed and turned back to the screen. I pointed at a series of tiny, boring transfers. "This. These five companies.
They're all based in different countries, they all have different owners, but they're all buying the exact same amount of shipping insurance at the exact same time every Tuesday. It's too perfect."
Liam leaned in. His shoulder brushed against mine, and for a second, I forgot about the numbers. He smelled like that sandalwood soap and cold air. It was a weirdly intimate moment for a 3:00 AM data hub.
"They're mimicking the background noise," he murmured, his eyes narrowed at the screen.
"Exactly," I said, trying to keep my voice steady despite him being so close. "It's like they're trying to hide in a crowd. But the crowd is too organized. Real people are messy, Liam. Real markets have glitches. This is... it's a script."
I stopped looking at the big numbers. I stopped looking at the "Singapore" loop that had been distracting his other analysts for weeks. I started looking at the timestamps. Every single transfer was delayed by exactly 4.2 seconds.
Not 4.0. Not a random fraction. 4.2.
A normal computer algorithm doesn't do that. A person does that when they're trying to hide a manual override, trying to make it look like the computer is thinking. It was a human hesitation disguised as a machine process.
Then I saw it. A tiny, insignificant payment for a "janitorial service" in a building in South London. It was the only thing on the entire list that didn't have a 4.2-second delay. It was instant.
"Wait," I whispered. My heart started to pick up speed, shaking off the sleep.
"Liam. Come here."
He was there in a second, leaning over the back of my chair. I could feel his breath on my neck, but for the first time, I didn't care. I was too busy staring at the janitorial company.
"Look at the routing number for the 'cleaning crew,'" I said, my fingers flying over the glass to pull up the deeper layers of the file. "It's not going to a bank. It's being rerouted through a private server in... in the Vane Residential Wing. Your building, Liam."
Liam went dead still. I could feel the temperature of the air around us drop ten degrees.
"That's impossible," he said, his voice a low, dangerous growl. "That server is closed-circuit. Only five people have the clearance."
"Well, one of those five people is stealing you blind," I said, feeling a rush of adrenaline that was better than any coffee. I traced the final path, my eyes scanning the names of the shareholders. I bypassed three firewalls, my fingers moving by instinct now. "They aren't just taking money.
They're using your own accounts to buy up the debt. They're making you pay for your own downfall."
I hit the final 'Enter' command, and a single name popped up in bright, clinical white text.
Liam stared at the name. I could see his reflection in the desk, his jaw was set so tight I thought his teeth might break.
He looked back at me, and the way he looked at me changed. It wasn't "clinical" anymore. It wasn't the look of a boss who had bought a tool.
It was the look of a man who realized he'd just found his most powerful weapon.
"You found it," he whispered. He reached out, his thumb grazing my jaw for just a second, a touch so light I almost thought I imagined it, before he pulled back. "In six hours, you found what my entire security team has been missing for months."
"I told you," I said, leaning back, my body finally crashing now that the hunt was over. "People are messy. Even the ones you trust."
Liam didn't look at the screen anymore. He looked at me. There was a spark in his eyes, a mixture of intense pride and something much darker, much more personal. I was an adult, I knew the risks, but the way he was looking at me made me feel like I was the only person in the world who mattered.
"Go to the car, Lia," he said, his voice dropping to that rough velvet tone.
"We're going home. You've done enough for one night. More than enough."
As I stood up, my legs shaking from the long hours, I realized I'd just passed my first test. I had saved his empire. But as we walked out into the gray light of the London morning, I couldn't help but wonder if I'd just made it impossible for him to ever let me go.