Page 15 of Mr. and Mrs. Novak

And maybe, just maybe, that’s what has always drawn me to her—the way she experiences everything with such raw intensity. Even when that intensity is aimed right at me.

10. Delta Access

SOPHIA

I’m relieved to leave the penthouse, eager to put some distance between Ruslan and me. His behavior unsettles me. He acts as if I matter to him, as if he regrets what we lost, but that’s ridiculous! Is it just male pride? Does he hate that I’m keeping him at arm’s length? Or does he simply miss the easy sex, available every night at home?

I park my car in a business district garage and exit through the back of the building. Then, I walk two blocks to the Delta access point, a discreet entrance on the building’s east side. An old habit I can’t shake, even if some think I’m paranoid.

I take a deep breath, clearing my mind.

The security ritual begins.

I scan my single-use badge.

First checkpoint. The cameras analyze me, matching my face against the database while invisible sensors map my gait. I know that somewhere, in the control room, a security officer is monitoring my entry.

Second checkpoint. The retinal scanner flashes, verifying my identity. A faint vibration signals the body scan, checking for concealed electronic devices.

Final checkpoint. I place my hand on the biometric reader and step into the last airlock, where I deposit my personal phone in the Faraday cage. Absolute rule: no unsecured devices beyond this point.

The team is starting to arrive at our HQ, a former server room repurposed into a high-tech office. We’re a small, handpicked unit, each of us selected for our unique skills.

There’s India, the youngest on the team—barely twenty-five—a coding genius who can crack any defense system while painting her nails.

Delta, with his Italian-model looks that turn heads wherever he goes, hides a razor-sharp mind beneath his devastating smile. A mathematical prodigy, he can spot an anomaly in millions of lines of code in seconds.

And Echo, our social engineering virtuoso—a master manipulator. A chameleon on the field, capable of assuming any identity with surgical precision. His talent? Exploiting human weaknesses. One phone call, and the most cautious secretaries hand him access codes, the strictest security guards let him in, and the most paranoid CEOs reveal their passwords.

As he likes to say, "Why spend hours hacking a system when you can just politely ask someone to let you in?"

Of course, our names are all code names. None of us know each other’s real identities, a precaution to ensure mutual safety. That’s also why they weren’t at my wedding, even though they’re some of the most important people in my life.

When you lead a secret life, your colleagues become the only ones you can truly be yourself around. Naturally, that creates strong bonds.

"So, how was the wedding?" India asks, her eyes sparkling as we settle down with our coffees before getting to work.

"My asshole husband has a mistress," I say flatly, my throat tight despite my light tone.

A stunned silence falls over the group. In a fraction of a second, their faces shift from surprise to outrage.

"No way. You’re joking!" India exclaims, her perfectly manicured fingers tightening around her cup.

"Not even a little," I reply, disgusted. "I overheard their conversation… and caught them kissing."

Maybe if I say it with enough detachment, I’ll start convincing myself that I didn’t care.

"That son of a…" Delta growls, stopping himself before finishing the insult.

"Want me to fabricate some incriminating evidence?" India offers, her fingers already tapping on her keyboard. "We could make him look like a corporate spy. I’ve got a few ideas…"

"Or we could hack his system," Echo suggests with a mischievous grin. "Imagine his face when embarrassing pop-ups appear during his next client presentation."

"Personally," Delta chimes in, "I vote for listing his profile on the Dark Web as a VIP escort. With compromising photos included."

For five minutes, they compete to come up with the most creative and vengeful solutions, ranging from simple bank account hacking to scenarios straight out of the best spy movies. And despite my anger, I can't help but laugh. No tearful pity, no suffocating sympathy, just fierce solidarity and action plans that would land us straight in prison. But as India often shrugs and says, prison is just another system to hack.

This team of lunatics is my second family. They protect me unconditionally, never hesitating to plot illegal revenge just to lift my spirits. In our world of secrets and lies, it's probably the purest form of love there is.