Chapter 205: Power Couple
Chapter 205: Power Couple
Tara's POV
I sat alone in the study of Mountain View Estate, staring at Karen's phone. My eyes burned from lack of sleep, but I couldn't stop. Finn was missing, and this phone was my only lead.
I clicked through each folder, tried every recovery method I knew, but nothing worked. Each folder returned error messages. The files had either been remotely deleted or tampered with from the beginning, without Karen's knowledge.
I found the contact Karen had shown me earlier and pressed dial. The phone rang ten times before disconnecting. No one answered, not even a voicemail.
"You're good at covering your tracks," I muttered, tossing the phone onto the desk.
The precision of it all—monitoring Karen, destroying evidence immediately—pointed to someone with resources and intelligence. I thought of Howard. This fit his methodical style perfectly.
But Howard was dead. I had watched his coffin lowered into the ground. I had thrown dirt on it with my own hands. He'd had no opportunity to fake his death.
This was someone else with similar skills. Someone who knew me well enough to anticipate my moves.
I pressed my fingers to my temples, fighting a headache. Finn was out there somewhere, possibly in danger, and here I was wasting time, unable to crack this phone.
"I will find you," I said to the empty room, picking up the phone again.
"Boss, are you sure about this?" Peter asked the next morning, standing in front of my desk with a serious expression. I had just briefed him on Karen's death and instructed him to handle the funeral arrangements.
"Yes," I answered, my eyes still fixed on the phone I was studying. "Make sure the funeral is modest but dignified. Whatever she did, she deserves that much."
Peter shook his head, still processing the information about Karen's true identity. "I can't believe it was her all along. Finn's own aunt! When we visited the organization, they seemed so close, like mother and son. Who would have thought..."
His voice trailed off, and when he spoke again, his tone had noticeably hardened. "Who can we really trust in this world?"
I looked up at him, noting the bitterness in his eyes. It was an emotion I understood all too well. "Just handle the funeral, Peter. I need to focus on finding Finn."
After he left, I turned my full attention back to the phone, determined to extract whatever secrets it held.
---
Days blurred together as I remained in the study, engaged in an invisible battle with an unseen opponent. Every time I came close to breaking through the security measures on Karen's phone, something would happen—files would suddenly delete themselves, encryption methods would change, or systems would reset.
This pattern repeated two or three times, indicating someone was monitoring my progress in real-time and countering my moves. It was frustrating, like trying to capture smoke with bare hands.
"Impressive," I whispered to the screen after another failed attempt, a grudging respect in my tone. "You clearly know what you're doing. But let's see how long you can keep this up."
I rarely encountered opponents who could match me in this domain. Whoever was on the other end of this digital chess match had skills equal to mine—in some ways perhaps superior. The thought was both concerning and intriguing.
I took another sip of coffee that had long gone cold, grimacing at the bitter taste, and continued typing, my eyes never leaving the screen.
"Boss, you need to rest," Peter's voice interrupted my train of thought. I blinked, realizing he was standing in the doorway of the study, concern etched on his face.
I glanced at the clock on my computer screen, surprised to find that another two days had passed. From my reflection in the darkened window, I could see the dark circles under my eyes, stark against my pale skin.
"I'm fine," I insisted, turning my attention back to the screen where lines of code continued to scroll. "I'm making progress."
Peter approached my desk, setting down a plate of food I had no intention of touching. "You've been at this for days. You're not eating properly, not sleeping. This isn't healthy, Boss. You'll run yourself into the ground at this rate."
I ignored his concern, my fingers continuing to fly across the keyboard. "I said I'm fine."
Peter hovered behind me, looking increasingly helpless as he watched me work. "I wish I could be more help, but this is beyond my technical capabilities."
He paced behind me, his footsteps heavy with frustration. "I don't understand how someone could be outmaneuvering you like this. It's as if they know your every move before you make it."
I paused briefly, considering his words. He was right—whoever was fighting against me seemed to have intimate knowledge of my methods, predicting my strategies with uncanny accuracy.
"It almost reminds me of how Howard would operate," Peter continued, voicing the thought I'd had days ago. "He was the only one who knew you well enough to stay ahead like this. But he's been dead for months. His ashes were scattered at sea long ago."
I resumed typing, unwilling to explore that dead end. "I don't need theories, Peter. I need results."
"At least eat something," he pleaded. "Or get some sleep."
"I'm not tired, and I'm not hungry," I said firmly. "You don't need to worry about me."
My hands never stopped, the sound of the keyboard filling the silence between us.
---
I was so focused on my work that I didn't hear the study door open again. Assuming it was Peter returning with more unnecessary concern, I spoke without looking up:
"I've already told you, I'm not tired, not hungry, and don't need you hovering," I said irritably, my eyes fixed on the screen in front of me.
"It's me," a familiar deep voice responded, definitely not Peter's.
I still didn't turn around, immediately recognizing Luke's voice. My shoulders tensed slightly, but my hands continued working. "I'm busy. Whatever you're here for, I don't have time for it. So please, see yourself out."
He didn't leave, and I heard the soft whirring of his wheelchair approaching. Then something was placed on the desk beside me—a laptop.
"Send me the link," he said simply.
I finally turned to look at him, caught off guard by his directness. He wore a casual dark sweater that accentuated the breadth of his shoulders, his hair slightly tousled as if he had just run his hand through it. Though he looked tired, his eyes were sharp, focused, ready for battle.
I realized Peter must have called him. Under normal circumstances, I would have been annoyed at this interference, but I was too exhausted to argue, and I actually recognized that Luke's technical skills might be exactly what I needed right now.
"The person on the other end is good," I warned him, sending the connection details. "Be careful."
Luke nodded, his expression focused as he opened the laptop and began typing. "I always am."
With Luke's assistance, the tide of the digital battle began to turn. His methods perfectly complemented mine—I was aggressive and direct, he was patient and methodical, creating patterns that led our opponent to make mistakes.
After several hours of coordinated effort, we finally had our adversary cornered. One particularly sensitive folder remained locked behind complex security measures, but we were close to breaking through.
"This folder has a dedicated security protocol," I said, pointing at the screen. "It's going to be tough to crack. Can you keep them occupied while I break it?"
Luke nodded, his fingers already moving rapidly across the keyboard. "I'll draw their attention. You focus on the folder."
While Luke guided our opponent through an elaborate digital feint, I concentrated all my attention on cracking the security protocol. It was unlike anything I'd encountered before—a custom system that seemed to anticipate standard cracking methods.
Even after Luke successfully neutralized our opponent's defenses, preventing them from interfering further, the folder remained stubbornly locked.
"Thank you for your help," I finally leaned back in my chair, rubbing my tired eyes. This was as close to admitting defeat as I allowed myself.
Luke glanced at his watch. "It's midday. You should eat something. I can take over here."
I shook my head, already turning back to the screen. "No... I'll eat when I'm done. If you're hungry, you can go downstairs first."
"Peter tells me you've barely eaten in days," Luke said, his voice carrying an authority that reminded me of his position as CEO of a major corporation. "This isn't sustainable, Tara. No matter how worried you are about Finn, destroying your own health won't help him."
I knew he was right, though I was reluctant to admit it. My head was throbbing, my vision occasionally blurring from fatigue. I could feel my body protesting against my mistreatment of it.
"Fine," I conceded, pushing away from the desk. "Let's get something to eat."
---
As I stood up, the room spun around me. Days without food and proper sleep had taken a greater toll than I'd anticipated. My legs gave way completely, and I began to fall.
Luke's wheelchair moved quickly. His strong arms caught me, pulling me directly onto his lap. The wheelchair rolled backward from the momentum of our collision. I tried to stop it, my hand landing between his legs.
I froze when I felt exactly where my palm had landed. I could feel him hardening beneath my touch. My face immediately burned with embarrassment and something else I refused to acknowledge. I shot him an accusatory glance.
"Mr. Carter," I said sternly, "seriously? Even in your condition, you can't control yourself?"
Luke's gaze darkened with unmistakable desire. "You're mine, Tara. My body knows that, even if you deny it." His voice dropped to a husky whisper. "And you touched me first."
His hand suddenly rose to my cheek, his thumb tracing gently along my jawline before coming to rest on my lower lip. In that moment, the air seemed to solidify. My heartbeat thundered in my ears, nearly drowning out the sound of my rapid breathing. His eyes fixed on my lips, the heat in his gaze almost enough to melt me.
"Luke..." I whispered, my voice so shaky I barely recognized it myself.