The question nearly broke me.
“I miss some things.”
She accepted that.
Children sometimes understood complexity better than adults.
She returned to coloring.
Marisol touched my shoulder.
“You don’t have to figure out your marriage today.”
“I know.”
“Just today.”
I looked at her.
“When did you become the sensible cousin?”
“I have three children.”
“Right.”
“And a mortgage.”
“Right.”
She smiled.
I leaned into her shoulder.
For the first time since leaving Dallas, I let someone hold part of the weight.
At 3:18 that afternoon, Adrian called.
I almost ignored it.
Then answered.
“Did you find Claire?”
“No.”
His voice sounded exhausted.
“But we found something else.”
I closed my eyes.
“Of course you did.”
“Can you come downstairs?”
“Why?”
“I’d rather show you.”
I looked toward Marisol.
She nodded.
“I’ll stay with Lily.”
Ten minutes later, I found Adrian in a small hotel meeting room.
Daniel stood near the door.
On the table were three printed pages.
Adrian did not sit.
Neither did I.
“What is it?”
“Claire left a file on our internal server.”
“When?”
“Last night.”
“For you?”
“We thought so.”
“You thought?”
“The file is password protected.”
“Then how do you know what it is?”
“We recovered the filename from the system.”
He turned the paper toward me.
I read it.
ELENA_WALKER_FINAL
My mouth went dry.
“That’s my name.”
“Yes.”
“Why would she have a file on me?”
“We don’t know.”
“When was it created?”
“Seven months ago.”
I stared at him.
Seven months.
Before the separation.
Before the photographs of Ethan and Rebecca.
Before I called Marisol.
Before I booked a flight to Houston.
“You didn’t know me seven months ago.”
“No.”
“Claire didn’t know me.”
“I don’t know.”
I looked at Daniel.
“What’s the password?”
“We haven’t broken it.”
“Can you?”
“Probably.”
Adrian immediately added, “Not without authorization.”
I appreciated that he said it before I had to.
“Whose authorization?”
“The file was created under Claire’s employee credentials on company equipment. Legal is reviewing access.”
I stared at the printed filename.
My entire life reduced to capital letters and an underscore.
“What if she made it because of Ethan?”
“That is possible.”
“What if she was investigating him?”
“Also possible.”
“Or me.”
“Yes.”
I looked at Adrian.
“What happened seven months ago?”
He thought.
“At my company?”
“In your life.”
He stared at me.
Then something changed in his face.
“Caroline’s medical records.”
“What about them?”
“Seven months ago, our legal department received an anonymous request.”
“For what?”
“For access to archived procurement records connected to her treatment period.”
My pulse quickened.
“Who requested them?”
“They didn’t know.”
“Anonymous?”
“Yes.”
“Did they release them?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Patient privacy. Corporate retention policies. Several reasons.”
“Then what happened?”
“Nothing.”
Daniel looked down.
Adrian noticed.
“What?”
Daniel hesitated.
“Sir.”
“What?”
“There was a second request.”
Adrian’s expression tightened.
“When?”
“Four months ago.”
“Why wasn’t I told?”
“It was routed through legal.”
“From who?”
Daniel looked at me.
Then back at Adrian.
“Ethan Walker.”
I gripped the back of a chair.
Adrian went silent.
For several seconds, nobody spoke.
Then my phone buzzed.
A text.
Unknown number.
I almost ignored it.
But something made me open it.
There was no message.
Only a photograph.
Taken inside an airplane cabin.
My airplane cabin.
I recognized my sweater.
Lily asleep in my arms.
The picture had been taken before Adrian sat down.
Before boarding finished.
Before I knew his name.
In the empty seat beside me was a black leather folder.
On top of it lay a white envelope.
My name was written across the front.
ELENA WALKER
My heart began to pound.
A second message arrived.
Adrian was never supposed to receive the file.
Then a third.
Neither was Ethan.
I stared at the screen.
Adrian stepped closer.
“Elena?”
My hands had started shaking.
“What is it?”
I turned the phone toward him.
He read the messages.
His face drained of color.
Daniel reached for his own phone.
“Can we trace the number?”
But before he could move, another message appeared.
This one contained only six words.
Ask who removed the envelope.
I looked again at the airplane photograph.
At the black folder.
At the white envelope sitting in the seat beside mine.
And then I noticed something in the reflection of the dark airplane window.
A woman standing in the aisle.
Only part of her face was visible.
But Adrian recognized her before I did.
He whispered one name.
“Claire.
