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And just like that, her debts disappear into the digital ether, sucked away by my silent intervention. She won't wake up to fanfare or a golden ticket. Instead, she'll find zero balances, quiet notifications that don't quite add up but spell relief in every language.
I imagine her confusion turning to disbelief, then joy. And I'll be there, watching, burning with the need to tell her it was me, that I'd burn the world down just to see her smile.
But not yet. Not now.
I rub a hand across the stubble shadowing my jaw.
The night stretches on, endless and still, but for the first time in weeks, I let myself lean back in my chair with a grin splitting my face.
But then I frown. I may have wiped her past slate clean, but what about her future?
The neon glow of the computer screen flickers across my face, casting long shadows against the dark walls of my study. I tap a rhythm on the desk with my fingers, a countdown to the moment Abby's life takes another turn for the better. At least, that's the plan.
"Six months," I murmur, doing the math in my head. Six months without the fear of coming home to an eviction notice plastered on her door. It's not a lifetime, but it's a damn good start.
I pull up the contact information for Abby's landlord, one I've meticulously gathered without raising any suspicions. A few clicks, a secure phone line, and I'm through, my voice a disguised baritone that’s as untraceable as it is authoritative.
"Good evening. I'd like to discuss a tenant of yours—Abby Sinclair," I say, keeping my tone casual, detached.
"Is there a problem?" The landlord's wary voice crackles through the speaker.
"Quite the opposite," I assure him. "I represent an interested party who wishes to ensure Ms. Sinclair's continued tenancy. We'd like to pay her rent for the next six months. In full. Anonymously."
There's a pause, a silence that stretches just a touch too long. But then comes the capitulation, the sound of greed greasing the wheels of cooperation. "I see no issue with that. As long as the funds are transferred."
"Consider it done," I reply, ending the call with a smirk. My pulse thrums with anticipation. Abby won't have to stress for a roof over her head—not anymore.
"Step two," I breathe out, cracking my knuckles before they fly over the keys once more. An anonymous email address, a few strokes of genius, and I'm one click away from dangling a lifeline in front of her—a job opening at my firm. She's smart, she's capable, and damn it, she deserves more than the hand she's been dealt.
I craft the email and send it, my heart racing faster at the click of the button.
The promise of seeing her every day, of being near enough to catch the scent of her hair or the sparkle in her eyes—it's a heady thought. And as dangerous as it is desirable.
But I shove those thoughts aside. Because this isn't about me. It's about Abby. About giving her the world, even if I have to do it from the shadows.
CHAPTER FIVE
Abby
I'm staring at my battered laptop, the glow of the screen casting long shadows across my tiny studio. Skepticism crawls through me as I reread the email that popped up in my inbox, an eyebrow arching in disbelief.
The cursor blinks back at me, a silent challenge. Could this be legit? Or is it just another scam preying on the desperate?
I glance over at the mounting pile of bills on my table and bit my lip. Because I am desperate, and desperation makes you do funny things.
Like hope.
"Ah, what the hell," I say with a click of my tongue, fingers flying over the keys. Curiosity's got me by the throat, and I'm not one to shy away from a dare—even if it's from a faceless stranger. I fill out the application with a mix of trepidation and a wild flicker of excitement.
Here goes nothing.
* * *
The day of the interview arrives like a freight train—loud, fast, and impossible to ignore. I step into the sleek lobby of the firm, my heart pounding a staccato rhythm. This is all so surreal. I don’t think I really expected to hear back after responding to the email.
The receptionist calls my name, and I nod, smoothing down my best (and only) pantsuit.
