"Whose records? The ones you keep for the people trying to buy us out?"
That lands harder than I expected. I don't know why, because it is the truth.
"You don't get to come in here and play nice, then pretend you're not here on orders. I wasn't born yesterday."
"Asher, I wasn't—"
"You were. You are."
His voice rises. Loud enough for heads to turn. For the old man at the other end of the counter to raise a brow.
He lowers his voice and takes a step toward me. When he speaks, it's low enough that only I can hear him.
"We had a moment, Kassi. A damn real one. And now you're sniffing around like I'm too dumb to notice."
My heart pounds. I want to tell him it's not like that. That I'm under pressure. That I don't want to be this person. But all that comes out is, "I didn't mean to,” before I’m cut off.
"You did. You just didn't expect to get caught."
The words sting worse than they should.
With my head held high, I leave before I make it worse. My chest is burning. Now, everyone in town will have their own version of what happened by sunset.
Back at my apartment, I slam the door and sink onto the couch. I kick off my heels, rub the back of my neck, and try to shake off the encounter.
Opening my work laptop, I hesitate. Even though I don't know what I'm looking for, my gut is telling me to look. So for the next few hours, I scroll through the progress reports, the presentations, and all the developer pitches.
They're slick. Clean. Too clean.
I’m used to this. How professional they were. How these people know their stuff. But seeing it all with fresh eyes and the knowledge I know now, I can see the timelines are vague. Metrics don't add up. Promises with no backing. Every time I ask questions, I get redirected and brushed off. They want me to think I'm imagining things.
I pull out my journal. Start scribbling everything I remember. Every odd meeting. Every conversation that didn't sit right. Any time Margo changed her tone or Martin changed the subject.
Because they're making me doubt myself. Making me feel like I'm the crazy one.
But I'm not.
Something's off. And it's bigger than I thought.
Then I start highlighting emails and screenshotting inconsistencies. It's not just notes anymore. It's evidence. It's protection. When I glance up, I realize I have to go get Emma, and I need a way to store all this information that isn't attached to my computer.
On my way to get Emma, I duck into the general store down the block. The clerk looks up with mild surprise when I walk in, as if I'm out of place. I head straight for the small tech aisle and grab a few USB drives. Enough to back up everything twice. Maybe three times.
When I go to pay, the woman at the register squints at me. "Y'all doing a presentation or something?"
"Something like that," I say, handing over my card.
I leave the store and walk across the town square to the diner for coffee. Austin is working the counter, and her eyes go wide when she spots me.
"You alright?" she asks, pouring an iced coffee before I even have to ask.
"I've been better."
She leans in, lowering her voice. "Doug said you and Asher had a little... moment at the feed store."
"Small town, huh?" I say, accepting the cup.
"You want the version where I pretend no one saw it, or the version where I tell you everyone's already picked sides?"