Henry went completely still.
Alexandra continued carefully:
“I think somebody stole your work.”
His eyes sharpened.
“Who?”
“I don't know.”
“Who?”
“I suspect my CTO.”
Henry stared.
Alexandra lowered her voice.
“I think somebody is sabotaging Reed Mobility.”
“Then call police.”
“I need proof.”
“I’m not a detective.”
“You're the man whose work they're using.”
The words hit.
Henry looked toward the house.
Bonnie behind the curtain now.
Watching.
Alexandra followed his gaze.
“I can pay upfront.”
Henry said nothing.
“Enough to cover your immediate problem.”
He looked sharply at her.
“What do you know about my problem?”
“Enough.”
Anger flared.
“You checked my finances?”
“No.”
“Your landlord posted an eviction notice on your door while I was standing here ten minutes ago.”
Henry turned.
Yellow paper.
He had not seen it.
Shame burned through him.
Alexandra’s voice softened.
“I’m not here because I pity you.”
“Good.”
“I’m here because I’m desperate.”
That surprised him.
She continued:
“My board meets tonight.”
“They may remove me.”
“My company may collapse.”
“People may get hurt if we don't fix the system.”
“I need somebody who isn't invested in our internal politics.”
Henry looked at her.
“And you think that's me?”
“I think you understand failure.”
Silence.
Alexandra added:
“In machines.”
“Not people.”
Henry almost smiled bitterly.
“That's where you're wrong.”
She took one step closer.
“Then maybe we both need this.”
Henry looked toward the eviction notice.
Then his daughter.
Then Alexandra.
“Five thousand.”
“Upfront.”
“No tricks.”
“No.”
“No ownership of anything I create.”
“Anything new becomes negotiated separately.”
“Written?”
“Yes.”
Henry breathed.
“When?”
“Three.”
“What time is it?”
“Ten twenty.”
He nodded.
“Okay.”
Alexandra extended her hand.
Henry looked at it.
Then shook.
Her hand was warm.
His rough.
Neither released immediately.
A strange moment.
Too long for business.
Too brief for anything else.
Alexandra withdrew first.
“I'll send the contract.”
She walked toward her car.
Then turned.
“Henry.”
“What?”
“Last night you told me to take my car to a real garage.”
“Yes.”
“You lied.”
He frowned.
“You are a real engineer.”
Henry looked away.
“Not anymore.”
Alexandra stared at him.
“We'll see.”
The contract arrived at 2:15.
Five thousand-dollar check.
Henry deposited it.
Paid rent.
Paid school pictures.
Paid the pharmacy.
Left seventy dollars in checking.
For the first time in months, breathing felt slightly easier.
At 3:02, he entered Reed Mobility.
Glass.
Steel.
Quiet wealth.
People wore badges that opened doors automatically.
Henry’s only good shirt suddenly looked cheap.
Alexandra met him at the elevator.
“You came.”
“I said I would.”