Page 71 of The Mogul: Leonard

I pause, trying to think through the possibilities. “Your old roommate…” I hesitate, searching for the right question. “Could they have done something like this?”

She shakes her head firmly. “No. They don’t have the skills. And they don’t know anything about this.” She glances at me, her expression resolute. “This kind of coding, this level of access…it’s way beyond them. Every place I go is like a fortress network. I can’t risk letting the information about what I do slip out, so I lock every access from the outside.”

The weight of her words settles over us, pressing down like concrete pouring. Whoever is responsible for this wasn’t just a random intruder. This was someone who knew Roxanne well enough to follow her steps and keep tabs but with enough technical skill to stay hidden until now.

A shiver runs down my spine as I absorb the implications. Someone isn’t just watching Roxanne—they’re trying to frame her. Using her old IP address to mask their moves, they’ve set her up to look like the source of the breach. It’s the perfect chance to serve her to the FBI on a silver platter. If they get a hold of this, they’ll have a reason to bring her in. Her skills, her background—it could all be twisted into a motive if someone wanted to paint her as the mastermind.

“We’re dealing with someone who knows exactly how to make it look like you’re the one pulling the strings,” I say, the gravity of the situation hitting hard.

Her jaw tightens, and I can see the fear beneath her steady gaze, just barely concealed. “If they have that kind of access, they could be tracking more than we even realize.” She looks down at the computer screen, the IP address still blinking at us, taunting us with its accusation. “The FBI has been waiting for a lead on me for years,” she murmurs. “If they find this address in any of the logs…”

She doesn’t finish the thought, but I don’t need her to. The fallout would be catastrophic. All they’d need is a single connection—a single weak link—and the entire investigation would fall on her. All the careful work she’s put into tracking these people down, the months of long nights and grueling hours—everything could be used against her instantly.

I can’t let that happen.

“We need to see that place,” I say firmly. “There might be something there—some clue they left behind. Or, at the very least, we might get ahead of whoever’s setting you up.”

Her gaze snaps to mine, and she nods, bringing the resolution back into her eyes. “I set up that network in a way nobody would breach it, like I usually do. They must have had an excuse to go into the apartment and use some computer in there.”

In the silence that follows, I feel the weight of what we’re about to do, the unknown dangers of facing off with a faceless enemy who’s always one step ahead. But as we move together toward the door, something tells me that tonight might be our only chance to set things right. And I know that whatever we find could change everything—especially for Roxanne.

26

Roxanne

I drive toward my old apartment with a growing sense of dread. The early morning light is a contrast against the gray streets. Leonard sits in the passenger seat beside me, watching me worriedly as if he can sense the turmoil raging inside me. I barely notice his concerned glances. My mind is fixed on the IP address we discovered and the reality that someone’s trying to frame me.

When we pull up outside, the place looks as worn as I remember, but I haven’t been here in months. I left without much of a goodbye, just an excuse about work that Spike didn’t believe. I’d always meant to explain things properly, but somehow, I never did. Now, as I step out of the car, I’m not sure what kind of welcome we’ll get.

We reach the door, and I raise my hand to ring the bell, but it swings open before I can touch it. Spike’s standing there, his eyes red-rimmed and watery, and a scowl already pulling at his lips.

“Well, well,” he mutters, leaning against the doorframe wearing a smirk mixed with hurt and annoyance. “If it isn’t Roxanne, the great Houdini. Decided to reappear out of thin air, huh?”

“Spike, I’m here because something important came up, not to bring up old arguments,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady. I’ve never liked how confrontations with him go, but there’s no getting around it now.

“Right,” he scoffs. “And you decided to come at six in the morning with him?” He nods toward Leonard, giving him a hard look.

Leonard steps forward, hand outstretched in his usual businesslike manner, but Spike just stares at it with raised eyebrows. I feel an uncomfortable sense of guilt. This was my home for years, and Spike was my friend and my roommate. But I hadn’t been honest with him, and now I’m here with Leonard, looking for a back door to a breach in my system I didn’t even know existed.

“Spike, I’m not here to fight with you. We need to check something inside. It’s related to work, but it’s…well, it’s personal too,” I explain, hoping he’ll understand. “Please. This is serious.”

He looks between us, still suspicious, but something softens in his gaze. Maybe the part of him that still had a crush on me hasn’t quite disappeared. I feel bad manipulating his feelings for me, but right now, I’d do anything to make this problem go away.

“Fine,” he mutters, stepping back to let us in. “But I don’t know what you’re hoping to find here. The place hasn’t exactly been quiet since you left.”

I walk through the doorway and into the familiar chaos of a party that died down a few hours ago. A few people are scattered across the living room—some slumped on the couch, others sprawled on the floor. The remains of last night’s party are everywhere: empty beer cans, pizza boxes, and, of course, someone still playing on the PlayStation, the screen is flashing with a racing game. I shake my head. Some things never change.

Spike gives me a pointed look. “Good luck finding anything here. The internet went out about a month ago. Had to get some guy to fix it. He was here for ages, messing with all sorts of cables and God knows what.”

“A month ago?” My voice is sharper than I intended, and Spike raises an eyebrow.

“Yeah. Why?”

I exchange a look with Leonard, my mind whirring. “After we discovered that the breach started from the third-party software. It can’t be a coincidence that it pinged my old IP address. Whoever this technician was must have set it up then. It’s easy to mess with the internet and pretend it doesn’t work properly.”

“Did they call you, or did you call the internet provider?” Leonard asks Spike.

They lock in a staring contest for long moment, but it’s Spike that gives up first. I fight the urge to roll my eyes at their childish behavior.

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