Chapter 13: The Person Behind the Screenshots

I didn't sleep that night.

Tessa's words kept repeating in my head.

They want Grant destroyed.

I sat at my desk long after midnight, staring at the anonymous email.

For the first time, I looked at it differently.

Until now, I had assumed the sender was someone who had discovered the truth and decided I deserved to know.

But Tessa had sounded afraid.

Not guilty.

Afraid.

I called her the next morning.

She answered immediately.

“Claire?”

“Who sent the screenshots?”

Silence.

“I told you, I don't know.”

“That's not what I asked.”

Another pause.

I could hear someone moving in the background.

“Tessa, who has access to your conversations with Grant?”

Her breathing changed.

And that was when I knew.

“Someone does, doesn't they?”

“Claire...”

“Who?”

She finally whispered a name.

“Evan.”

I frowned.

“Grant's coworker?”

“Former coworker.”

I remembered him vaguely.

Quiet.

Always dressed perfectly.

He had attended one of Grant's company parties years ago.

Grant used to complain about him constantly.

Said Evan was ambitious but unreliable.

I had never paid much attention.

“Why would Evan have your messages?” I asked.

Tessa hesitated.

“Because Grant used to use a shared work account on one of his old devices.”

My stomach tightened.

“And Evan had access?”

“Not officially.”

There was something in her voice now.

Shame.

“What happened between them?”

Tessa was quiet for so long that I thought she had hung up.

Then she said,

“Grant got Evan fired.”

I leaned back in my chair.

“Why?”

“Grant said Evan had mishandled confidential information.”

“Did he?”

“I don't know.”

I closed my eyes.

That was the problem with Tessa.

She never knew.

Or maybe she knew enough but had trained herself not to look closer.

“Evan blamed Grant for ruining his career,” she continued. “After Boston, he started sending strange messages.”

“What kind of messages?”

“Things about Grant getting what he deserved.”

I looked at the anonymous email again.

You deserved to know the truth.

Suddenly, the sentence felt different.

Not kind.

Strategic.

“Did Evan know about me?”

Tessa hesitated.

Then she said, “Everyone knew about you.”

The words hit harder than they should have.

Everyone knew.

Everyone knew Grant had a fiancée.

Everyone knew he was moving across the country with my best friend.

Everyone knew I was supposed to disappear into Iowa.

And somehow, no one had thought to tell me.

“Claire, please be careful,” Tessa said.

I almost laughed.

Now she wanted to protect me.

After helping build the cage.

“Why are you telling me this?”

Her answer came quietly.

“Because I don't think Evan is doing this for you.”

That, at least, sounded honest.

We ended the call.

I immediately forwarded everything to my lawyer.

She told me not to contact Evan.

I agreed.

Then I went to class.

For two hours, I tried to focus on my professor's lecture.

But my thoughts kept drifting.

Grant.

Tessa.

Evan.

For months, I had believed my life had been ruined because two people made selfish choices.

Now I was beginning to see something larger.

Grant had enemies.

People he had manipulated.

People he had used.

People who were waiting for him to fall.

I wondered how many versions of Grant existed.

The man I loved.

The man Tessa trusted.

The ambitious employee.

The son who needed someone else to care for his father.

The planner who built entire futures for other people without asking them.

Maybe I had only known the version of him that benefited from my loyalty.

That evening, my lawyer called again.

“Claire, we received another document.”

I immediately sat up.

“From who?”

“The Boston property manager.”

My chest tightened.

“What is it?”

“The rental application wasn't the only document connected to your information.”

I went completely still.

She continued.

“There was an emergency guarantor form.”

I felt the blood drain from my face.

“I never signed one.”

“I know.”

“Then how is my name on it?”

“That's what we're investigating.”

I opened my laptop.

My hands suddenly felt cold again.

The document arrived in my inbox moments later.

I opened it.

Grant's name.

Tessa's name.

My name.

But something was different.

The signature at the bottom wasn't mine.

It looked similar.

Close enough that someone glancing at it might not notice.

But I knew my own handwriting.

The curve of the C was wrong.

The final e in Claire leaned in the opposite direction.

Someone had copied my signature.

For several seconds, I couldn't breathe.

My lawyer's voice came through the phone.

“Claire, do not contact Grant about this.”

But Grant had already contacted me.

A message appeared on my screen.

Unknown Number.

We need to meet before this gets worse.

I stared at it.

Then another message arrived.

This isn't about the relationship anymore.

A third.

You don't understand what Evan is capable of.

I showed the messages to my lawyer.

She was silent for a moment.

Then she asked,

“Did Grant mention Evan before you confronted him?”

“No.”

“Interesting.”

I knew what she meant.

Grant hadn't been worried about Evan.

Not until someone started exposing documents.

Which meant one of two things.

Either Evan really had access to information Grant wanted hidden.

Or Grant was trying to redirect attention away from himself.

Neither possibility made me feel safe.

That night, I received one final email.

Same anonymous address.

No greeting.

No explanation.

Only another attachment.

This time, it wasn't a screenshot.

It was a spreadsheet.

A spreadsheet I had never seen before.

The title made my entire body go cold.

PROJECT IOWA.

I opened it.

The first rows listed Grant's father's medical needs.

The second listed my expected monthly expenses.

Then I scrolled farther down.

There was a section called:

Exit Compensation.

My eyes stopped on the number beside it.

$0.

And directly underneath was a note written by Grant.

Claire won't ask for anything. She never does.

I sat completely still.

Then I noticed something at the bottom of the spreadsheet.

A second set of comments.

Written by another user.

The name attached to them was not Evan.

It wasn't Tessa either.

It was someone I knew.

Someone who had known Grant for years.

Someone who had hugged me goodbye before I left Chicago.

My phone slipped from my hand.

Because the person helping Grant plan my disappearance had been much closer than I ever imagined.