Page 68 of Accidental Dad's Best Friend

I grin at him, watching with a bittersweet smile as everyone takes an extra long lunch. In t-minus-17 hours, this place will be on fire. And even though Liam is going to figure it all out pretty fast, it doesn’t mean some of these heads aren’t going to roll.

I check my phone again, feeling bad that I’ve blown her off this long.

Ethan- We can talk as soon as I get home, which will be late since I have to wait until everyone else is gone to do the deed. But I promise you, sweetheart, it’s going to be fine. Everything is going like clockwork right now.

Izzy- It’s not about any of that. It’s something I’ve been wanting to talk to you about for a long time and it just can’t wait anymore.

Unfortunately, it’s going to have to. Because in just a few hours the building is going to clear out and everything that Liam has been building, everything I thought I wanted to build withhim, is going to come down. But Izzy and I are going to walk away from it all unscathed.

That night, I stay in my office for an hour or so after the staff leaves. Other than Rose, it’s just me and the janitor who takes a little longer than usual thanks to our in office barbecue. Once he is on his way home, I come out into the lobby and find Rose at her desk.

“You always work this late?” I ask and she jumps.

“Mr. Savage, you scared me.” She smiles with red cheeks as she presses her hand to her chest.

“I’ve told you before you can call me Ethan. I’m not Liam.”

“Right,” she nods.

“Don’t you have a son to get home to?” I ask.

“I have a sitter for nights I work late.”

“What’s Sloane got you doing now?”

“Just a little sidework, but nothing I can’t handle.”

“You know, I don’t think you get paid enough,” I tell her, looking out the window at the parking lot. “You deserve a boss that pays you for everything you do, not just what he hired you to do.”

“Wouldn’t that be nice,” she says, grabbing a few things and shoving them in her bag.

“Well I’m in charge tonight. And I say get home to your kid. He’s lucky to have you.”

She blushes and I glance down at my phone. Nothing new from Izzy. I’ve probably upset her.

“Do you have anyone special in your life?” Rose asks and I look up.

“You could say that.”

“How nice,” she says after a moment. “She’s lucky to have you. Any woman would be.”

I nod and make my way down the hall. With Rose getting ready to leave, I need to get moving. First stop is Steve’s desk, actually. While I am the head of editing, he is my right hand man and usually keeps the most up to date version of the magazine loaded and ready for print. If edits are made on his side, they’ll update in the system before publication.

I am able to access everything using my username and password. I have the power to override everyone’s systems. It's for security, in case someone is ever fired or simply doesn’t show up. We need access to everything that is legally ours.

I plug in the flash drive and transfer Izzy’s article. It’s an old school way to do it but I want it to be untraceable. If I log into my account, it will show in the server’s history. The blame would go to Steve and then me, possibly even Izzy. While he’s obviously going to figure shit out soon enough (and I want him to) I want to keep collateral damage to a minimum for the time being.

I check and double check the article I am replacing (one a I asked a girl named Lindy to write about the long term effect AI is having on artists) with Izzy’s article–Hemorrhage: How A Man’s Weapon Will Be His Own Ruin.

Even the title she chose gives me chills. I close everything up feeling both relief and anxiety. It’s like the hum of electricity that tingles over your skin before lightning strikes.

I make my way back down the dark hall ready to head out. But then I notice a light still on. It’s my office. I stop in the doorway, glancing around with my hand on the switch. But right before I flip it off, I stop.

There’s another manila envelope on my desk.

My heart screeches to a halt in my chest as I slowly walk over. It feels the same in my hand as the other. Same weight, same stiffness. Glossy eight by tens if I had to put money on it. I’m hoping I’m wrong. But I know I’m not.

I know it in my gut.

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