Page 188 of Triplet Babies for my Ex's Best Friend

I zoom in.

There.

A conditional branch.

Then another.

A response weighting function that should have degraded under sensor conflict but instead amplified.

I compare it to the current corruption. It’s not identical, but related. A descendant.

No.

That isn’t right.

A signature.

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

Addy

By the timeI get back to the penthouse, I feel almost human again.

Sophie helped.

She always does, mostly by bullying me with snacks, insulting men with the confidence of a woman who has seen too many bad first dates, and reminding me that my life is only about seventy percent on fire.

The elevator doors open into Ethan’s floor, and I step out with a paper bag tucked against my side because Sophie insisted I take muffins home.

“For the brooding billionaire,” she’d said.

“Ethan isn't brooding.”

She had looked at me for a solid five seconds. “Addy.”

“Fine. He’s slightly brooding.”

“He has sad cheekbones.”

I’d laughed.

Unfortunately, now that phrase is stuck in my head, and as I unlock the door, I’m already wondering whether it would be rude to tell Ethan his cheekbones have emotional trauma.

Probably.

So I’ll save it for later.

The second I step inside, Captain charges at me like I’ve returned from six months at sea instead of one day with a friend.

“Hi, buddy.” I barely manage to set the bag down before he barrels into my legs, tail wagging hard enough to power the Midwest. “Yes, yes, I missed you too. Please don’t injure my uterus.”

I pause. Frown. Why did I say uterus?

Captain licks my hand. “Forget I said that.”

“Sunshine!”

Oliver appears from the living room, barefoot, wild-haired, and holding what looks like one of Ethan’s shoes.