When I brought Grace into my life, I should have known everything would change. Even the past wouldn’t stay the same.

I’m at work, in the umpteenth meeting about the merger. Sitting around the table are the heads of every department – finance, logistics and training, IT. Fritz sits at the head. I’m the only one not sitting. I lean against the wall with my arms crossed, wishing I were in my office watching Grace.

Not that I can trust what I see. She knows now, and nothing she does will be innocent. It hasn’t been for days.

I was shocked when she confronted me. Shocked at her strength after days of isolation. Most women would have begged for comfort. She wanted the truth, just like I want from her. Neither one of us would budge.

I lost control. She pushed and I pushed back. In two minutes, I ruined a week of gains. The camera splintered her trust, and I smashed what was left.

This morning I brought her breakfast. Eggs and toast. She always cleans her plate, but today she left most of it behind.

“Not hungry?” I asked.

Her eyes were huge and scared. “No.”

I wanted to tell her that I understood. That I know why she lied. But I can’t if she won’t admit that she did.

I left her room without saying a word. I finished the rest of her eggs standing at the counter in the kitchen, and for some reason, she seemed so human to me at that moment. A lost girl who’d been hurt and made mistakes. Just like I had.

I think of my laptop on my desk, and crave a glimpse of Grace. Even if it’s all a show, I’ll take it. Even when she tries to fake it, she can’t help but be herself. That’s what’s so fucking alluring about her.

It takes all of my will to bring my focus back to the meeting. Cole, my head of IT, is just starting to speak.

“Signet called about the 2015 data breach, so I’ll be putting the documentation together,” he says. “That’s my life for the next week.”

Everyone in the room laughs but me and Fritz. Suddenly I’m on high alert.

The data breach. I thought that fiasco was long over. I haven’t thought about it in two years.

“How do they know about it?” I ask. I try to keep the stress out of my voice, but I sound like I’m ready to strike.

Cole looks down the table at me. “It was part of the disclosure between our departments.”

“Martin Yates decided it wasn’t a breach. He was before your time. He thought it was a software glitch.”

The room is tense and silent. Cole shifts nervously in his chair. “To prep for the merger, two forensics guys went over the incident and decided it was hacking. They’re writing up a report. They think we can figure out who did it.”

I exchange a glance with Fritz. “Is that so?”

“The good news is, the system’s been rock solid for two years. So Signet’s not worried. They just want an accounting of what happened for their lawyers.”

In other words, they want to see the data Martin and I labeled a software fuck-up and then buried. Not because we cared about publicity, but because there were operatives’ lives at stake. If the evidence got out, it could get one of my employees in another country killed. It might even now.

That was the point of the hacking in the first place. Fuck with me by putting people who worked for me in danger. Make their names public. Expose operations. Cripple Phantom and bring us down.

Unfortunately for Cole, the thought still enrages me. “‘Just an accounting?’” I say, everyone’s eyes riveted to me. “Is that what you call the identities of people in the field?”

“No, Sir,” Cole says. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize –”

“I want everything related to that incident classified,” I say. “Nobody sees it unless I sign off, and I don’t sign off on sending it to Signet’s lawyers.”

He nods. “Absolutely. Done.”

“Good,” I say. “Then it shouldn’t be a problem.”

Cole looks like he might puke. Fritz gives me a faint smile. I wish I could see the humor in the situation.

Shouldn’t be a problem.

Wouldn’t be, if I’d never answered that message.

I’ve reamed myself countless times for it. Wondered why I didn’t delete it. I don’t know how my contact information got out, but it’s hard to keep that stuff private. The email was so weirdly formal, I still remember some of the words. As an young engineer with deeply-held views, I admire your company’s mission, to establish a strong American standard...

It was a little too idealistic. Too starry-eyed. But he was obviously bright and his education was stellar. He knew a lot about me. He knew everything about the history of Phantom – how we’d expanded, the competition we’d crushed. He was thinking about my company’s role in the world, and that was more than most kids his age would do.

So I wrote back. This may disappoint you, but Phantom isn’t about a certain vision of America. It’s about providing an important service people need and doing it well. If you’re still interested in an interview, let me know.

He was, and I set it up for him. I’d been in his shoes. Striving. Trying to use my brain for good. I’d come from nothing and done plenty of shit work I was too smart for. I related to his ambition. I was happy to help.

Until the next week, when I met him. Two years ago last month.

My whole life changed, all because I got an email and decided to answer it. Sometimes things really do happen for no apparent reason, randomly.

But when I think of Grace waiting in her room in my house, my willing captive, the whole thing doesn’t seem random at all.