Page 42 of Mr. and Mrs. Novak

"Look at the correlation: with each nighttime connection, there's a discrepancy between the declared weight and the actual weight of containers in warehouse B7."

He types on the keyboard.

"March 15th: connection from 2:17 a.m. to 3:42 a.m., container NXRA-789. Declared as electronic components at 17 tons. Upon arrival at the client, only 12 tons. March 22nd: NXRA-791. Same scenario, three tons missing. April 12th, more discrepancies."

"This is where it gets interesting," interjects Akim, setting down his tablet. "The containers in question always transit through the same areas of the warehouse."

He opens a personnel file.

"Martinez, manager of that logistics zone. Hired last year, impeccable resume... except he previously worked for a Stanford subsidiary in Hong Kong, specializing in weapons."

He scrolls through other names. All former employees of different Stanford subsidiaries. All in strategic positions throughout our logistics chain.

Nicholas clenches his jaw.

"He's placed his men at every checkpoint."

I massage my temples.

"We continue documenting everything. Every anomaly, every correlation. We need to build a solid case for the authorities."

Nicholas suddenly straightens up.

"We have another problem. MetaLog records all our queries. If they're monitoring the system, they'll see we're investigating these specific containers."

"What do we do?" I glance at Akim. "Changing software now would immediately alert Stanford."

Nicholas thinks, then snaps his fingers.

"I can create an isolated virtual environment. A copy of the system that simulates our normal activities for MetaLog, while we conduct our investigation on a separate network."

"And the evidence we've already collected?" asks Akim.

"I've saved everything on a server not connected to the main network. For now, our searches look like a routine internal audit."

I nod.

"Perfect. Let's do that. And we need to install additional cameras in warehouse B7."

***

Sophia has been avoiding me since this weekend, since our night together. Any excuse is good enough for her to keep her distance. If I were a better man, I would have given her time and space, especially after throwing my supposed love story with Natasha in her face. But I’m not a good man—I can’t stand that she’s avoiding me. I want her to look at me, to see me. I don’t think I’ve ever wanted a woman’s attention this much in my entire life.

I never realized how much I needed her love until I lost it. I had no idea how her trusting gaze and unwavering support made me a calmer, more grounded man. More in tune with my own values. Sophia has always had this uncanny ability to bring out the best in me.

I lied to myself for so long, pretending I pursued her out of calculation, out of a need for a discreet and loyal alibi. What hypocrisy. It was always her—my Sophia. The extraordinary woman who has now retreated behind her walls and refuses to let me in. Doesn’t she see? I won’t let her slip away. Not this time. I know she’s deeply hurt, but I will mend every fracture because there is no other option. Because I am not whole without her.

Sophia is late.

Damn it, she got home late from work, and now she’s taking forever to get ready. Tonight, we’re attending a high-stakes networking gala for the company. As I approach her room—

"No, no, I’m sure of it! I know they were looking for me."

What the hell? Why does she sound almost hysterical? Why do I hear fear in her voice? A few seconds of silence stretch before she speaks again.

"Okay, fine. Keep me posted. I have to go, I’m already late."

A moment later, she opens the door and startles when she sees me.