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Roxanne

“ W ow. Did you even sleep last night?” Leonard asks, standing up from behind his desk. He walks over, taking the cups of coffee from my hands and setting them down, his gaze narrowing as he studies me.

I must look terrible, because his usual professional boundaries in the office seem to vanish when he reaches out, pulling me into a quick hug. It’s uncharacteristic, and it surprises me enough to make me pause mid-yawn.

“Not exactly,” I admit, yawning again.

He places his hands on my shoulders, holding me at arm’s length with a mock stern expression that almost makes me feel like a kid caught sneaking out. “When we ended the call at midnight, you promised you were going to bed,” he says, a touch of exasperation in his voice.

A guilty pang tugs at my chest. “I know, but…while I was getting ready, I had this idea pop into my head. A solution. You know I couldn’t just let it go.”

His skeptical eyebrow lifts. “And did you figure it out?”

“Of course I did!” I say, a bit indignant. By now, he should know that when I’m onto something, I don’t stop until I see it through.

His expression shifts, and something unreadable crosses his face. He leans back against the desk, gripping its edge hard enough that his knuckles turn white. It’s clear there’s something he wants to say, but he hesitates as if he’s not sure how I’ll take it.

“Just spit it out,” I urge, sinking into the armchair in front of him. Whatever it is, I’m not sure I’m ready to handle it in this sleep-deprived state—but I brace myself anyway.

“I spoke with Raphael yesterday. I didn’t mention it on the phone because it’s a delicate matter, and I wanted to discuss it in person. With what we’re about to uncover, the FBI will probably be involved.” He stares at me, trying to gauge my reaction.

The truth is that I had already considered this possibility, and I’ll deal with it if it arises. I don’t want to think about going to prison before knowing if they have their eyes on me.

I nod. “Thank you for telling me. I had already figured that out, and I’ve decided to go along with it anyway. But why did you consult Raphael? There are plenty of official channels to use.” I’m genuinely curious.

He studies me for a long moment. “I don’t want strangers sticking their noses in your life. I thought Raphael might have someone trustworthy to work with. I need help trying to protect you while I’m doing the right thing.”

His admission fills me with a rush of feelings, and my chest expands. Is this happiness? It feels so overwhelming that I want to smile and giggle like a little girl.

“Thank you. I really appreciate it,” I say, my voice trembling slightly, overwhelmed by what I’m feeling inside.

I’ve never been one for sappy love stories—the kind where people say love changes everything and melts even the coldest hearts.

I’d always dismissed it as overly sentimental fluff, words that held no weight for me.

But right now, the way he’s looking at me, with a quiet intensity that says he’d do anything to make sure I’m okay—it hits differently.

There’s something so genuine, so steady in his concern, that it sneaks past my usual defenses.

For the first time, I feel something shift, like warmth spreading in a corner of my chest I’d forgotten was even there.

Maybe I’ve always believed that to be strong, I had to keep a cool distance and armor myself against the messiness of emotions.

But this level of care, this kind of steady, wordless understanding—it does something to me, something I can’t deny.

It moves my so-called cold heart in a way I didn’t see coming, like a quiet promise that maybe I don’t have to be so guarded all the time.

Maybe love isn’t about grand gestures or perfect moments. Perhaps it’s the simple acts of kindness, the way someone’s care makes you feel like you are in the safest place in the world. And even though I don’t believe in love stories, this…whatever this is feels a little like one.

He clears his voice before speaking again, breaking the heavy silence between us. “So, you said you have a solution.”

I shake my head, trying to clear my thoughts before speaking, but with the lack of sleep and the turmoil in my chest, I find it difficult to focus on what I actually came here for this morning.

“It’s a long shot, but we should try,” I say, opening my laptop and putting it on his desk.

Leonard turns around and focuses his gaze on my computer.

Now that he is not staring at me, I can almost concentrate.

Almost. “We can’t trace where the code they put in comes from, but I wrote a script that triggers that code, and it gives us a chance to trace it to the source if the person who put in the code in the first place reacts to it. ”

Leonard frowns but nods. “So, we don’t know if this person will do something about it or not,” he murmurs, thinking hard about it.

“No, but they will know we found it. We bait them, and we wait for their reaction,” I explain.

Leonard sighs and shrugs. “It’s better than staying here and running in circles without finding anything useful. Let’s try it.”

I smile and feel the excitement surge in my chest. We finally have some hope to grab onto. And then we go our separate ways, and I don’t know if I’m ready to do that.