Chapter 15

Cecilia

The gates swung open before we reached them—Carter must have seen us on the security feed. My stomach twisted. It was 4 AM. We were showing up, desperate, and very obviously not just friends anymore.

Fuck it. Let him judge.

"Arthur." Carter's eyes tracked the blood on Arthur's shirt—not his blood.

"Room first," Arthur said flatly.

Carter's mouth twitched. He stepped aside, gesturing us in with exaggerated courtesy. "East wing. Third door on the right. It's actually two rooms with a connecting door, so you can maintain whatever boundaries you're pretending to have."

I felt my face heat. "Carter—"

"No judgment, Little Locke." He raised his hands in mock surrender. "Just... happy to see you both finally get your heads out of your asses."

His expression sobered. "And if you're here at 4 AM looking like you fought your way out of a war zone, I'm guessing shit got real. We'll talk later. For now—"

He jerked his chin toward the stairs. "Third door. Everything you need should be there. If it's not, text me."

"Thank you." My voice came out smaller than intended. "I mean it. For—"

"Ceci." Carter's use of the nickname made my throat tighten. "Your father was a good man. And you're family. This—"

He gestured vaguely at the space between Arthur and me. "—is about fucking time. Now go. You both look dead on your feet."

The room was exactly what I'd expect, and yes—a connecting door to an identical room.

Arthur's hands landed on my shoulders, steadying.

"Ceci, look at me."

I turned. His face was drawn, exhaustion carved into every line, but his eyes were clear. Determined. "I know your brain is spiraling."

"I'm not." The words tumbled out before I could second-guess them. "I mean. I just—" I pressed my palms to my eyes. "This is real now. We're real now. And I don't know how to do this without it destroying everything."

"Then we figure it out." He pulled my hands away, forcing me to meet his gaze. "Together. But first, we need to be functional humans, which means you need to let me set up that computer so we can see what we're actually dealing with."

Right. The files. William accessing my father's data. The whole reason I'd gone to that fucking dock in the first place.

I pulled out my laptop, booting it up on the desk while Arthur watched. "I need your access codes," I said without looking at him. "CEO-level clearance. If we're going to do this, I need to see everything."

The silence stretched long enough that I glanced back. Arthur's jaw was tight, but he pulled out his phone without protest. "Okay."

"Okay?" I blinked. "That's it? No lecture about security protocols or need-to-know basis?"

"You want the truth about your father." His voice was flat, resigned. "And you clearly don't trust that I'll give it to you unless you can verify it yourself. So—" He held out the phone. "Biometric scan. Full system access. Everything I have, you have."

I stared at the device like it might explode. "Arthur, that's—"

"Your right." He met my eyes. "You deserve to know if I'm complicit in whatever happened to Robert. If my father—" His voice cracked slightly. "If he killed yours, you deserve proof. And if I'm somehow part of it, you deserve to destroy me for it."

Oh.

My hands trembled as I took the phone. The screen lit up with Arthur's face, then flashed green as the biometric scan completed. A second later, my laptop pinged with a notification:

WINSTON, ARTHUR - CEO LEVEL ACCESS GRANTED TO CECILIA LOCKE

"Thank you," I whispered.

Arthur said nothing. Just moved to the window, staring out at the dark ocean like he couldn't bear to watch me tear apart his world.

I turned back to the screen and got to work.

[Data Recovery]

With Arthur's credentials, I slipped through like a ghost. My fingers flew across the keyboard, muscle memory taking over as I navigated through layers of encryption, archived files, shadow directories.

There.

My breath caught. A folder labeled LOCKE-WINSTON NEURAL COMPUTING PROJECT - PARTNERSHIP TERMINATION.

Deleted two hours ago. But now, with CEO access, I could restore everything from the main server.

RECOVERY COMPLETE. 2,847 FILES RESTORED.

I clicked into the folder with shaking hands. And there—

"Oh God." The words fell out of me like a punch to the gut.

Arthur leaned over my shoulder, reading. I heard his sharp intake of breath.

The first file was a patent application draft in my father's handwriting—his actual handwriting. The date stamp: one month before he died. Neural computing algorithms, revolutionary architecture, the kind of breakthrough that would have made him a legend.

The second file: a cease-and-desist letter from William Winston's legal team, accusing my father of stealing proprietary Winston Corp research. Dated two weeks before the accident. The language was brutal, threatening legal action, public exposure, criminal charges.

"Mr. Locke, your unauthorized use of Winston Corp intellectual property constitutes both breach of contract and industrial espionage. Cease all development immediately or face consequences."

My father would have been terrified. Humiliated. Desperate to prove his innocence.

The third file: the patent office ruling. Technology ownership granted to William Winston. Reason: "Winston Corp provided more complete early-stage development records."

Early-stage records my father probably never even saw.

"Ceci—" Arthur's hand touched my shoulder.

I shook him off, clicking through more files. My eyes burned. There had to be something. Some proof that the crash wasn't an accident. Some email where William gloated or admitted or—

NO RELEVANT RESULTS IN CURRENT ACCESS LEVEL.

"What the fuck does that mean?" I spun in the chair to face Arthur.

"Your father's lawyers threatened mine two weeks before he died. Two weeks! And then magically, the patent becomes William's property and my father is dead and—" My voice cracked.

"Where are the accident investigation files? Where's the proof about the brake failure?"

Arthur's face was ashen. "Not here. Those files—if they exist—would be in the old estate. My father's private server. The one that's never connected to any network."

"Of course." I laughed, the sound bitter and jagged. "Of course they're locked away where I can't touch them."

"Ceci—"

"He stole everything!"

"And then—" I couldn't finish the sentence. Couldn't say and then he killed him without proof. But God, I wanted to.

Arthur caught my wrists, "Listen to me. What we have proves intellectual theft. It proves my father used legal threats to intimidate yours. But murder—"

He swallowed hard. "We need direct evidence. And if it exists, it's at the estate. We can go there. Today. This morning. I'll make him tell us the truth."

"Why?" I jerked against his hold. "Why would you help me destroy your own father?"