Chapter 10 - Someone Else Had Been Listening
Warehouse 17 sat beside the river in an industrial corridor most Chicagoans passed without noticing.
I did not go there.
That was the first proof I was getting smarter.
Instead, I sent the message to Arthur.
He called within seconds.
“Where are you?”
“Home.”
“Stay there.”
“That phrase is becoming repetitive.”
“Norah.”
“What is Warehouse 17?”
Silence.
“Arthur.”
“It was a storage facility.”
“For what?”
“Nico’s businesses.”
“Legal?”
Another pause.
“That answers it.”
“Why is Rafael mentioning it?”
“You need to ask Nico.”
“I did ask Nico questions.”
“You didn’t ask that one.”
My stomach tightened.
“Was he hiding something?”
“Everyone is hiding something.”
“I’m getting tired of men telling me that as if it’s wisdom.”
Arthur sighed.
“I’m coming over.”
“No. Tell me.”
“Not on the phone.”
“Then meet me at the diner on Montrose.”
Thirty minutes later, Arthur sat across from me.
He looked older than usual.
“What happened?”
He removed his coat.
“The night before Nico met you, someone stole records from Warehouse 17.”
“What records?”
“Ledgers. Shipping information. Names.”
“Rafael?”
“We didn’t know then.”
“And now?”
“We suspect his people.”
“What does this have to do with me?”
“The stolen information eventually surfaced inside a consulting company.”
“Which company?”
Arthur looked at me.
I understood before he answered.
“My old firm.”
“Yes.”
Cold spread through my stomach.
“Nico knew?”
“Not when he met you.”
“When did he learn?”
“About four months later.”
“And he never told me.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because by then you were together.”
I laughed in disbelief.
“That is not a reason.”
“To Nico, it was.”
“Explain.”
“He had people investigate everyone at your firm after the data surfaced.”
“Including me.”
“Yes.”
I stared at him.
“How much?”
“Background. Financial history. Family. Work.”
My face burned.
“Did he read it?”
“Yes.”
Every private piece of my life.
Reduced to pages.
Read by a man who then came home and kissed me without telling me.
“Was I suspected?”
“For approximately six hours.”
“Six hours?”
“You had no access to the stolen materials.”
“Did Nico know that before investigating me?”
“No.”
I stood.
Arthur did too.
“Norah.”
“I need air.”
Outside, snow had begun to fall.
Arthur followed.
“This is what Rafael wants.”
“You think that makes it less true?”
“No.”
“Then stop saying his name every time I discover Nico lied by omission.”
Arthur stopped.
“You’re right.”
I turned.
“He investigated me.”
“Yes.”
“Then stayed with me.”
“Yes.”
“Did he ever investigate me again?”
Arthur did not answer quickly enough.
“How many times?”
“Security reviews.”
“How many?”
“Several.”
I felt sick.
“After we were living together?”
“Yes.”
“Phone?”
“No.”
“Email?”
“Not personally.”
“What does that mean?”
“Threat monitoring. Names around you. New acquaintances.”
“Without telling me.”
“Yes.”
I walked away.
Arthur let me.
This was the problem with rebuilding trust.
Every hidden brick remained inside the wall.
You could repaint it.
You could apologize for the structure.
But eventually, weather exposed everything underneath.
I called Nico.
“Did you investigate me?”
No hesitation.
“Yes.”
“At the beginning?”
“Yes.”
“After?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because you would’ve hated it.”
I laughed.
“Fantastic answer.”
“I’m not defending it.”
“You don’t get points for admitting something after I find out.”
“I know.”
“Stop saying you know.”
He went silent.
I kept walking.
Snow collected in my hair.
“When did you decide I was safe?”
“Immediately.”
“Then why keep watching?”
“To make sure other people around you were safe.”
“Do you hear yourself?”
“Yes.”
“Do you understand how terrifying it is to realize someone you loved had access to parts of your life you never gave him?”
“I do now.”
“Now.”
That word again.
Always now.
Never then.
“I’m sorry.”
“I can’t keep discovering things.”
“There are more.”
I stopped walking.
The city seemed to stop with me.
“What?”
“There are more things about my life you don’t know.”
“About me?”
“No.”
“You swear?”
“Yes.”
“Anything else you did involving me without my knowledge?”
Silence.
“Nico.”
“I had your father’s debt cleared.”
My eyes closed.
My father had died when I was twenty-four.
Before Nico.
He had left medical debt my mother struggled with.
One year after I started dating Nico, the remaining account suddenly disappeared.
I thought insurance had corrected something.
“You paid it?”
“Yes.”
“How did you know?”
“Background report.”
“Jesus.”
“I wanted to help.”
“So you secretly reached into another part of my life.”
“Yes.”
He sounded exhausted.
Not defensive.
Just ashamed.
“I need space.”
“I know.”
“Do not call me.”
“All right.”
“Do not send anything.”
“All right.”
“And tell Arthur not to give me updates unless Rafael is an immediate danger.”
“I will.”
I hung up.
For nine days, Nico disappeared from my life completely.
No calls.
No messages.
No Marcus that I could see.
No Arthur.
The silence was exactly what I requested.
And it felt awful.
But something important happened inside it.
I stopped thinking about whether Nico deserved forgiveness.
Instead, I asked whether I trusted myself.
Trusted myself to say no.
Trusted myself to leave again.
Trusted myself not to surrender my life simply because a man finally learned to apologize.
That was the foundation I had been missing.
Not Nico.
Me.
On the tenth day, Claire called me into her office.
“We lost South Halsted.”
“What?”
“The development fund withdrew.”
“Why?”
“Financial investigation.”
Rafael.
She handed me a letter.
“The entire funding group is frozen.”
“What happens now?”
“We redesign the financing package or abandon the project.”
“How much time?”
“Thirty days.”
I stared at the plans.
Months of work.
Jobs.
Housing.
Local businesses.
All suddenly at risk because someone was using development as a battlefield.
“What if we find another investor?”
Claire laughed tiredly.
“In thirty days?”
“Yes.”
“Know any billionaires who enjoy impossible deadlines?”
Unfortunately, I did.
I looked at the letter.
Then at Claire.
And for the first time since leaving, I considered calling Nico not because I needed rescue—
but because I had a business proposal.
May you like
The difference changed everything.
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