Chapter 7

Helena was still sitting at her desk, staring blankly at her computer screen, when the shadow fell over her keyboard.

She looked up. It was Keven's assistant, a young man with a Bluetooth earpiece and a clipboard. "Ms. Ayers? Mr. Armstrong would like to see you in his office."

It wasn't a request. Helena stood, her legs feeling like lead. She followed the assistant down the corridor, past the glass-walled conference rooms, to the corner office.

The assistant opened the door and gestured her inside.

The office was massive, with floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the city skyline. Keven was standing with his back to her, his hands in his pockets, staring out at the world he had built.

The door clicked shut behind her.

Keven turned. The mask of the CEO was gone. In its place was the cold, hard anger of the man she had divorced.

"Let's drop the act," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "There's no one here to perform for. What are you doing here, Helena?"

Helena clutched her hands in front of her, digging her nails into her palms. "I'm here to work."

Keven scoffed, taking a step toward her. "Work. Right. Slipping into my company, into my department... is that your new strategy? Did you think I wouldn't notice?"

"I didn't know this was your company," Helena said, her voice shaking despite her best efforts. "I applied to Apex. I didn't know about the acquisition."

"Convenient," Keven sneered. "A coincidence that lands you right in my backyard. You expect me to believe that? The woman who ran away the second the money dried up suddenly shows up when the money is flowing again?"

The words stung, but Helena held her ground. "I need this job, Keven. It has nothing to do with you."

He stopped a few inches from her, towering over her. "Everything has to do with me. This is my company. My world. And you don't belong in it."

He reached into his pocket and pulled out his checkbook. He clicked a pen with a sharp snap. "How much?"

Helena stared at the checkbook, a wave of nausea rolling over her. "What?"

"How much to make you disappear?" he asked, his eyes boring into hers. "Ten thousand? Fifty? Just name your price and get out of my sight."

It was the ultimate insult. He thought she was here to extort him. He thought she was still the same shallow woman he had built up in his head.

Helena looked at the checkbook, then up at his face. She saw the contempt, the anger, but she also saw something else. A flicker of something raw beneath the surface. She didn't know what it was, but it gave her the strength to speak.

"I don't want your money," she said, her voice quiet but firm. "I want to work. I earned this position, and I'm not going to quit."

Keven stared at her, his jaw clenching. For a moment, he looked almost surprised by her defiance. Then the mask slammed back down.

"Get out," he said, turning his back on her again. "Before I have security throw you out."

Helena didn't need to be told twice. She turned and fled, her heart hammering against her ribs. She didn't stop until she was back at her desk, her breath coming in short, ragged gasps.

Across town, later that evening, Keven sat in a dimly lit corner of The Oak Room, a high-end whiskey bar. He swirled the amber liquid in his glass, the ice clinking against the crystal.

Eliot Hodge slid into the booth across from him, signaling the bartender for a drink. "You look like a man who wants to fire someone."

"I already did," Keven muttered. "Or I will. Helena Ayers."

Eliot raised an eyebrow. "The woman from the police station? She works for you?"

"She applied to Apex. Before the buyout," Keven said, his tone bitter. "She claims it's a coincidence."

"You don't believe her?"

Keven took a sip of his whiskey, the burn a welcome distraction. "She left me, Eliot. The second things got tough, she walked away. And now, four years later, she just happens to walk into my building? No. She's here for a payout."

Eliot studied his friend for a long moment. "Maybe. Or maybe she just needs a job. She didn't look like a woman with a lot of options, Keven."

"She's a parasite," Keven said flatly. "She's nothing like... her."

Eliot knew exactly who he meant. "You're still thinking about the angel?"

Keven stared into his glass. "I can't stop. Four years, Eliot. Four years, and I haven't found a single clue."

"The anonymous investor," Eliot said softly. "The one who saved Nexus."

"I was dead in the water," Keven said, the memory still vivid. "Helena had just left. The investors were pulling out. I was days away from filing for bankruptcy. And then, out of nowhere, a million dollars was injected into the company account. It was routed through a shell corporation, structured as a zero-interest, unsecured bridge loan with an indefinite term. No equity, no demands. It was functionally a gift, but structured to be legally sound. A ghost with a checkbook."

"It was a miracle," Eliot agreed.

"It was a lifeline," Keven corrected. "And I need to know who threw it. I need to know who believed in me when everyone else-when my own wife-abandoned me."

He looked up at Eliot, his eyes haunted. "It's ironic, isn't it? The woman I married only saw a sinking ship. The stranger who saved me saw something worth a million dollars. And I can't find the one, and I can't get rid of the other."

Eliot didn't have an answer. He just lifted his glass. "To miracles."

Keven clinked his glass against Eliot's, but he didn't drink. He was too busy thinking about the woman in the beige sweater, and the stranger who had given him the world.

He had no idea they were the same person.