Finley Church POV:

I scoffed internally. He was so arrogant, so utterly convinced of his own power over me, that he wouldn't even say the words out loud. "Look at my LinkedIn." He actually thought I'd see his public post about transferring to Austin and immediately scurry to change my own plans, like a well-trained dog.

I pushed him away, the contact with his chest making my skin crawl. "Get out of my way."

I locked myself in my room. On my desk was an unopened box. Inside was a custom gaming mouse, a top-of-the-line model I'd bought for myself. I remembered ordering it, a knot of anxiety in my stomach, worried I'd be too lonely in a new country without him. Now, looking at the sleek packaging, all I felt was a strange, hollow relief.

The next morning, I packed. It didn't take long. My suitcases were surprisingly light. All the expensive bags, the jewelry, the designer clothes he'd bought me over the years-I left them all behind. They weren't gifts; they were gilded chains, and I was finally cutting them loose.

As I was about to close the last suitcase, a wave of panic washed over me. I scanned the room, my eyes darting frantically. It was gone.

My father's hard drive.

It wasn't just a piece of hardware. It was his life's work. The original, priceless source code for the revolutionary game engine he'd developed, the one he was never credited for. It was my most important possession, the very reason I was going to Dublin.

I kept it in a small safe hidden in my closet. And only one other person knew the combination.

Ezekiel.

A sickening feeling coiled in my gut. I snatched my phone and dialed his number. It rang twice, then immediately went to voicemail. He had declined the call.

Just then, my phone buzzed with a message from my best friend, Chloe. It was a photo from Instagram, posted just minutes ago. Ezekiel, at a downtown bar, a half-empty bottle of whiskey on the table in front of him, his eyes glazed over.

I didn't even bother calling a cab. I ran.

When I burst into the dimly lit bar, he was alone, slouched on a leather couch in a private booth.

"Finley?" he slurred, a drunken smile spreading across his face as he saw me.

I ignored him. I grabbed his briefcase from the floor, dumped its contents onto the table, and began rifling through the papers. Nothing. I moved to him, patting down his pockets, my hands shaking with a mixture of rage and desperation.

As I frisked him, his hands shot out, grabbing my waist and pulling me down into his lap. A low, rumbling laugh vibrated through his chest. "Eager, aren't we?"

The smell of stale whiskey and his cloying cologne made me want to gag. "Give me the hard drive, Ezekiel."

He ignored my demand, his fingers tracing patterns on my back. "Stop being so angry, Finley. Just come back to the bedroom tonight, and I'll give it back in the morning."

My blood ran cold. That code was everything. It was my father's legacy. A "Women in Gaming" historical exhibit in Dublin was waiting for my submission, ready to finally give my father the credit he deserved after all these years.

The submission deadline was today. Midnight.

"Give it back!" I said, my voice as cold as steel. I raised my hand to slap the smug look off his face.

He caught my wrist in a surprisingly strong grip. "Temper, temper. How about this? A little trade." He leaned in, his hot, alcoholic breath washing over me. "Once we're settled in Austin, we'll get engaged. You always wanted to live in a fun city like that, right?"

The hypocrisy was nauseating. I glanced at the time on my phone. 11:15 PM.

"We are broken up," I bit out, struggling against his grip. "Give me the code. Now. I need it for my transfer!"

He just smiled and let his head loll to the side, pretending to fall asleep. "Shhh. Too loud, baby."

Desperation clawed at me. I frantically waved down a waiter, ordering a pot of the strongest black coffee they had. I forced the bitter liquid down his throat, but he remained limp, a infuriatingly peaceful smile on his face. "What's the rush, baby? I'm so tired. Let's just nap right here."

Panic was a physical thing, clawing its way up my throat. "Ezekiel, this isn't a joke! This is my father's entire legacy!"

My phone pinged. An email from the exhibit organizers. Friendly Reminder: Submissions close in 30 minutes.

I begged him. I pleaded. I even choked out an agreement to his twisted terms, the words tasting like ash in my mouth. "Okay. Okay, Austin. Just give it to me."

He just kept smiling, his eyes closed.

The clock on my phone ticked past midnight. 12:00 AM.

A final email notification popped up on my screen.

[We regret to inform you that your submission was not received by the deadline.]

At that exact same moment, a message lit up Ezekiel's phone, which lay face-up on the table. It was from Blake.

[Zeke, it worked! The Austin team loved the algorithm! Thanks to the code you gave me, they've already approved me for the lead developer role on the new project. I can't wait to keep working with you!]

I stared at the screen. My nails dug into my palms, drawing blood.

They dared. They stole my father's work, his soul, for her career.

I didn't scream. I didn't cry. A cold, terrifying calm washed over me as I shot out of the bar and into the night.

Finley Church POV:

I found them in the lobby of Blake's high-rise apartment building, fresh from celebrating her promotion. When Blake saw the look on my face, her triumphant smile faltered, replaced by a flicker of fear.

"Give me the hard drive," I demanded. My voice was eerily calm, but it cut through the air like a knife.

Blake's eyes darted to Ezekiel, who looked pale and suddenly much more sober. Terrified, she fumbled in her designer handbag, her hands shaking. "Okay, okay, here. No need to be so aggressive."

She held it out to me. As my fingers brushed against the cool metal casing, she let out a theatrical yelp and dropped it.

It didn't just fall. It clattered onto the wet, freshly mopped marble floor, skidding right into a puddle of spilled soda left by the janitorial staff. The sticky, dark liquid immediately began to seep into the seams of the casing.

A strangled cry tore from my throat. I snatched it up, frantically trying to wipe it dry with the sleeve of my jacket, but I could feel the dampness penetrating the delicate electronics within. My whole body was shaking.

When Ezekiel saw what happened, his voice was laced with a thin veneer of panic. "Finley... I didn't know this would happen. Blake didn't mean it. You scared her." He took a step forward, his hands held up placatingly. "You're partly to blame, so let's just drop it, okay?"

He pulled Blake behind him, shielding her as if I were the threat.

Tears of pure, unadulterated rage finally blinded me. I lunged forward and slapped him, hard, across the face. The crack echoed in the sterile lobby.

"Drop it?" I shrieked, the sound raw and broken. "That was my father's life's work! His entire legacy! Taking something that isn't yours is stealing! How dare you tell me to drop it?"

His face, now smarting with a red handprint, darkened with anger. His arrogance returned, eclipsing any flicker of guilt. "It's just some old code! It's an obsolete object that has more value being used by the living! Can't you be more generous? I'll find someone to recover the data. Why do you always have to be so aggressive? Finley, why can't you be more supportive, like Blake?"

I stared at him, my mouth hanging open in disbelief as hot tears streamed down my face. Supportive. He wanted me to be supportive of them stealing my father's soul.

Seeing my tears, Ezekiel's expression softened slightly, a practiced look of concern settling on his features. "Okay, okay, I was too harsh. I'm sorry. I promise I'll get your dad's code fixed. Don't cry."

His sudden, calculated tenderness was revolting. It felt like a violation.

I turned to leave, to get away from them, from this nightmare. But Blake darted forward, her hand grabbing my wrist, her fingers digging into my skin.

"I'm so sorry, Finley," she simpered, her eyes wide and wet. "Please don't be mad at Zeke. He did it for me, but he loves you. You can hit me if it makes you feel better, just don't make him ignore me!"

I ripped my hand away from her grasp as if I'd been burned. "Get off me!"

With a theatrical scream, Blake threw herself backward, aiming her fall directly toward the sharp, marble corner of the reception desk.

Ezekiel, always her white knight, caught her just in time, scooping her into his arms.

"I was just trying to apologize," she sobbed into his chest, "and she tried to kill me! She pushed me!"

Ezekiel's anger exploded. He looked at me, his eyes blazing with a fury I had never seen before. "Your dad is dead, Finley! Who are you trying to impress with all this drama? Does Blake have to die over some dead guy's broken hard drive?!"

He held Blake tighter, his voice dropping to a low, menacing growl. "We are all going to be colleagues in the same company, Finley. Do you have to make things so ugly? Apologize to Blake. Now."

He shot me a look loaded with meaning. "If you don't apologize today, forget about any vacation I promised you. Think about it."

A sound, half-laugh, half-sob, escaped my lips. "Go to hell!" I screamed, the words tearing from my raw throat.

I ran out into the night, leaving them behind. His final shot followed me out the door, a parting blow designed to cripple me.

"Fine! Don't come crawling back to me when you're all alone!"

Finley Church POV:

I sat in the back of Chloe's car, the damaged hard drive cradled in my lap like a dying bird. My phone buzzed again. Ezekiel. I listened silently to the empty promises spilling from the speakerphone as Chloe drove us to the airport.

"...and I'll book that trip to Hawaii, baby, just like I promised. We'll sort everything out once we're in Austin."

In the background, I heard Blake's disgustingly cheerful voice pipe up, "Zeke, are you talking to Finley? Tell her I'm really sorry!"

I ended the call. I didn't say a word. I simply powered down my phone, popped out the SIM card, and dropped it into the bottom of my purse.

It was midnight. Some choices are final.

Landing in Dublin felt like surfacing for air after being held underwater for a decade. A colleague from the new office, a kind woman named Fiona, met me at the arrivals gate. She smiled warmly, oblivious to the ruins of my past life.

"Welcome to R&D, Finley," she said, shaking my hand. "We were so impressed with your portfolio. It's not often we get a transfer from marketing with your kind of coding chops."

I had never stopped. In the quiet hours after Ezekiel was asleep, I had spent years honing my skills, using my father's old notes to guide me, passing certifications, completing online courses, and building a portfolio of personal projects. My application to the Dublin R&D office was never about following Ezekiel. It was always about continuing my father's unfinished journey.

Meanwhile, three thousand miles away, Ezekiel Phillips was on his way to the Austin airport. The backseat of his sleek black sedan was filled with my favorite flowers, stargazer lilies, and a collection of rare Funko Pops I'd been trying to find for months. He had orchestrated a grand pre-honeymoon proposal, complete with a convoy of his friends' cars ready to follow him in a celebratory parade.

"Zeke's the man," one of his friends said from the back, filming for Instagram. "So romantic. No wonder he's got his woman so well-trained."

Ezekiel smirked at the camera in the rearview mirror, already imagining me crying with joy in his arms, the past few days of "drama" forgotten.

Only Blake, sitting in the passenger seat beside him, looked furious. Her arms were crossed tightly over her chest. "Zeke... you're really going to propose to Finley? After everything? What about me?"

He slammed on the brakes, the car screeching to a halt in the middle of the road. He turned to her, his face grim. "Blake, don't you dare say a word of this in front of Finley. I don't want her to get the wrong idea."

Blake's eyes turned red. "But I love you! A woman like Finley, who causes so much trouble, she doesn't deserve you! You changed your transfer for me! You have feelings for me, don't you?"

His friends in the back started chanting, "Say yes! Say yes!"

Ezekiel's jaw tightened. "Stop fooling around."

Blake threw her arms around his neck, her voice desperate. "Finley isn't coming, Zeke. She doesn't want you anymore. Even so, you won't choose me?"

He shoved her away, his patience finally snapping. "That's impossible! Stop this nonsense right now, Blake, or get out of the car!"

The mood in the car turned icy.

At the airport, after rebooking her non-existent flight for the third time, real panic started to set in for Ezekiel. He pulled out his phone, his thumbs flying across the screen.

[We're at the airport. Where are you?]

The message sent. A second later, a bold red exclamation mark appeared next to it. Message Not Delivered.

A wave of cold dread washed over him. He tried to call.

A cold, robotic voice answered. [The number you have dialed is no longer in service.]

He tried again. And again. The same voice. The same finality.

He turned, his eyes wild, and glared at Blake, who was now watching him with a triumphant, malicious smile on her face.

"Where is she?" he demanded, his voice a low growl. "You know where she is, don't you? Tell me!"

Blake started to laugh, a high, unhinged sound. "I told you, Zeke. She doesn't want you. She's probably halfway to Dublin by now."

She paused, letting the words hang in the air before delivering the final blow. "Finley never changed her transfer form. Surprise!"

Ezekiel froze, all the color draining from his face. He looked as if he'd been struck by lightning. Without another word, he shoved his friends aside and sprinted into the terminal, not looking back.