Two Little Secrets From My Boss

Chapter 227

Maya’s POV

Two in the morning. The house sleeps around me, silent except for the occasional creak of settling wood and the distant hum of the refrigerator.

I've learned every sound this house makes, memorized the rhythm of the Hale family's breathing patterns, timed my movements to the gaps between security sweeps.

Tonight I need Xander's personal financial records. The patron's last message was explicit: wire transfers from three years ago, the ones that might connect to shell corporations Gerald used.

Evidence that Xander knew more than he claimed about the operations that destroyed Lora.

I slip into his office, closing the door with barely a whisper of sound. My hands know the path to his desk in the dark, no flashlight needed. Six months of practice makes me confident, efficient.

The computer is easy—I have his password. But the patron wants paper records this time, the kind that don't leave digital footprints.

Documents Xander keeps locked in his desk drawer, the one with the false bottom I discovered two months ago.

I ease the drawer open slowly, feeling for the catch that releases the hidden compartment.

A soft electronic beep cuts through the silence.

My blood turns to ice.

Security alert. The drawer is wired with a silent alarm I didn't know existed, probably added recently, probably because Xander's getting suspicious of something without knowing what.

I close the drawer as quickly as I dare, my heart hammering so loud I'm certain it'll wake the entire house. Move. I need to move. Get out of this office before…

Footsteps on the stairs. Fast, purposeful.

I'm in the hallway when Xander appears at the top of the staircase, phone in hand, alert notification glowing on the screen. He's wearing pajama pants and nothing else, hair mussed from sleep, eyes sharp despite the hour.

"Maya?" His voice carries surprise and something else. Suspicion, maybe. "What are you doing up?"

My mind races through possible excuses, discarding each one as too thin, too obvious.

Then I remember—Nina's mechanical dragon. The one that stopped roaring yesterday, making her cry until Lisa fixed it with a screwdriver and determination.

"I'm so sorry," I say, letting embarrassment color my voice. "I was looking for batteries. Nina's dragon stopped working yesterday and she was so upset about it. I thought if I could fix it before morning, she'd wake up happy."

I gesture vaguely toward Xander's office. "I thought maybe you'd have some in your desk. I didn't realize there was an alarm."

Xander holds up his phone, the security alert glowing on the screen. "The drawer's wired. Got the notification on my phone."

Xander studies my face for a long moment. I can see him calculating, weighing my explanation against whatever instinct is telling him something's wrong. The silence stretches between us, each second feeling like an eternity.

Please believe me. Please just believe me and go back to bed.

"The batteries are in the kitchen," he says finally, voice carefully neutral. "Utility drawer, second one from the left. There should be a pack of AAs in there."

"Thank you." I start moving toward the stairs, keeping my pace casual despite the adrenaline screaming through my veins. "I feel ridiculous triggering a security alert over a toy."

"It happens." But his eyes follow me as I descend the stairs, and I can feel the weight of his doubt even after I turn the corner.

In the kitchen, I retrieve the batteries with shaking hands. My cover story needs to be complete, authentic.

I take the pack of AAs and actually go to Nina's room, actually fix the dragon's battery compartment, actually test it to make sure it roars properly. Evidence, in case someone checks. In case Xander decides to verify my story in the morning.

Back in my room, I lock the door and sink onto the edge of my bed. My hands won't stop trembling. That was too close. Way too close. If Xander had been faster, if he'd caught me actually in his office instead of in the hallway, if the excuse hadn't come to me quickly enough…

The burner phone buzzes in my closet. A message from the patron: "Status?"

I type back: "Complications. Need more time."

His response is immediate: "Time is running out. They're getting suspicious. Move faster or abort."

I delete the messages and hide the phone again, then lie back on my bed and stare at the ceiling.

Sleep is impossible. I just replay the moment over and over—Xander's face, the doubt flickering in his eyes, how close I came to complete exposure.

Morning arrives too quickly. I shower, dress, apply makeup to hide the exhaustion. Downstairs, the family is already moving through breakfast routines. Nina squeals with delight when she discovers her dragon works again, running to show Lisa who nods approvingly at the repair.

"Thank you for fixing it," Daphne says warmly, pouring coffee. "She was heartbroken yesterday."

"Of course," I reply, accepting the mug she offers. "I heard her crying and couldn't stand it."

Archie appears in the kitchen doorway, freshly showered, ready for work. He kisses my cheek casually, a gesture that's become routine over the past weeks. Then he reaches past me for the coffee pot, voice deliberately light.

"Hey, were you in Xander's office last night? Security log showed an alert around two AM."

My heart stutters, but my face stays perfectly calm. I've practiced this.

"Yeah, sorry about that." I laugh self-consciously. "I was looking for batteries for Nina's dragon and thought Xander might have some in his desk. Felt pretty stupid triggering an alarm over a toy. Xander told me where to actually find them."

Archie nods, pours his coffee. "Mystery solved then."

But he watches me for a beat longer than usual. Just a second or two extra, his eyes searching my face for something he can't quite name. Then he smiles and the moment passes.

The day proceeds normally. I help with the twins' activities, manage household schedules, play the role I've perfected over months. But I'm hyperaware of every glance, every pause in conversation, every moment when someone's attention lingers on me slightly too long.

That afternoon, I'm in the living room with Nina, building an elaborate castle out of blocks. She's narrating an entire story about dragons and princesses, completely absorbed. I'm laughing at something she said when I feel eyes on me.

Xander stands in the doorway, watching. When our eyes meet, he doesn't look away quickly like he normally would. Just holds my gaze with an expression I can't quite read. Not angry. Not accusatory. Just... observing. Calculating.

Then Nina calls his attention and the moment breaks. He moves into the room, joins our game, becomes Dad again instead of a suspicious CEO.

But I saw it. The doubt and the questions forming behind his eyes that he's not asking yet but will eventually.

The trust is cracking. Hairline fractures spreading through the foundation of every relationship I've built here—with Archie, with Xander, with Daphne and the twins.

The cracks are showing, and I know it's only a matter of days, maybe hours before someone asks the right question I can't answer. Before the lies collapse completely and bury me under the weight of six years of deception.

I should run. The patron said abort if necessary. I could disappear tonight, vanish before the explosion.

But Archie's face when he said he loved me last night. Nina's trust when she shows me her drawings. Daphne's gratitude for helping with the children.

I can't make myself leave, not yet. Not until I have what I came for or until they force me out.

So I stay in this crumbling house of cards I built, and I wait for the inevitable collapse.