The Calm Before The Storm

I wandered into the kitchen with a headache from hell. The wine bottle and glass from last night were still on the counter. I grabbed the glass and turned toward the sink. That’s when I saw it. A cup that wasn’t there the night before. I did a mental check. Had I left it out? Nope. I’d washed every dish last night before the wine and the embarrassingly long wait for that man. How did I not hear him making coffee before he left? He’s so damn comfortable for an occasional night passer by.

I snorted and checked the clock above the door. Eight fifteen. I had about forty five minutes to get to the office before Laura starts blowing up my phone. You’d think, with the way she bosses me around, the boutique was hers and I was the assistant. I put on the kettle and headed back to the bathroom to get ready. By the time I finished, the water had boiled, so I made my coffee in a to go flask.

I got to the office about ten minutes late. Laura was already on the phone at her desk. I waved and walked into my office. My phone started ringing the second I turned on the AC. Brianna’s name flashed on the screen.

“Bri,” I answered.

“Tell me why I am a therapist?” she muttered dramatically.

I smiled. I hadn’t spoken to her since Saturday evening, and she clearly didn’t think I deserved any pleasantries.

“Because you love being judgmental.”

“Girl, please,” she huffed. “I think I need to reduce my client base.”

I was thinking she’d take one more client. Of course I didn’t say it. Otherwise she’d start grilling me until I spilled everything. And I’d promised her I was done with Cass the mysterious this time. She’d be so mad if she knew I spread for him again, and did it so easily too.

God. Did that mean I’m an easy target?

“So, how was your weekend?” Her voice broke into my thoughts when I didn’t reply. How was your weekend probably meant did he call.

“Boring,” I murmured quickly. “Nothing interesting.”

“Still no text?”

“You’ve asked me that about five times this month.” I dodged the question. I hated lying to her, or rather omitting. But I couldn’t exactly tell her the man came and I opened the cookie jar again after seventeen days now, could I?

I leaned back into my chair and rubbed my temple with my free hand while Brianna started a story about one of her clients showing up to their session with an emotional support duck. I burst out laughing at the way she told the story, but my mind soon drifted to the way Cass always left without looking back. I hated how much space he took up in my head when he wasn’t even here.

“Anyway, enough about my crazy people,” Brianna said. “You sound distracted. You sure nothing happened this weekend?”

“Nothing worth talking about,” I lied again. “Just work stuff piling up.”

She didn’t push, but knowing my friend, she wasn’t convinced. We said our goodbyes, and I promised to meet her for drinks later in the week. I hung up and stared at my computer screen for a moment. Time to actually earn the money I paid myself.

Laura knocked on my open door a few minutes later. “Victor Hale is here for the audit meeting.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Okay. I’ll be there in a minute.”

“He remembered my name,” she said with a small smile. “He is incredible, Sophia.”

I stood up and smoothed my blouse. Victor Hale was one of my biggest clients. His investment firm grew quickly over the last two years, and he brought a lot of referrals with him. I liked working with him. He never made me feel like I was just another service provider.

I walked out to the small conference area. He was already there, standing by the window looking at the city view. He turned when he heard me and smiled. A genuine smile that reached his eyes.

“Sophia,” he said warmly. “You look like you run on coffee this morning. Rough night?”

I laughed despite myself. “Something like that. Thanks for coming in person. Most clients want to do this over video these days.”

“Are you kidding? I get to leave the office and someone else makes the coffee.” He gestured to the cup on the table.

He waited until I sat down before taking his own seat. That small thing always stood out to me. He had money and power, but still asked permission before sitting in someone else’s office. It made him easy to like. We spent the next twenty minutes going over the high level numbers for his latest quarter. He asked smart questions and listened carefully. At one point Laura brought in fresh coffee, and he thanked her by name and asked about her weekend plans. She left the room practically glowing.

“You have a good setup here,” he said, looking around my office. “Not too big, not too corporate. Feels like people actually enjoy working here.”

“We try,” I said. “Keeps me sane most days.”

He chuckled. “I remember the feeling.”

We moved on to the detailed audit files. I pulled up the spreadsheets and turned the monitor so we could both see the screen. He leaned in slightly and remained patient as I walked him through the expense categories and the investment allocations. Everything looked clean on the surface. His firm had solid numbers, a good cash flow, and reasonable deductions.

I scrolled through one of the transaction logs and paused for a second. There was a transfer to a vendor I didn’t immediately recognize. The amount wasn’t huge. Just thirty two thousand dollars. But the description field was vague. Consulting services. I’d seen hundreds of these over the years, but never any from this particular vendor.

“Everything okay?” Victor asked.

“Yeah,” I said quickly. “Just double checking a vendor code. Looks fine.”

I explained it away in my head as a new vendor. Or maybe one that had changed their naming convention. It happened all the time. I made a small note on my legal pad and kept going. Victor asked a few follow up questions about depreciation schedules, and I walked him through the calculations.

The meeting ran longer than I expected, but it felt productive. By the time we wrapped up, most of the staff had already gone to lunch. Laura popped her head in to say goodnight, and Victor thanked her again for the coffee. After he left, I sat at my desk for a while with the spreadsheets still open. The office was quiet now. Just a low humming sound from the AC. I should’ve gone home. Instead, I opened the transaction log again.

That thirty two thousand dollar payment kept catching my eye. I circled it with my pen. The vendor name was listed as Meridian Advisors. I pulled up last year’s files and searched, but found nothing. I told myself it was probably nothing. New relationship. Legitimate expense. Victor ran a clean operation. Everyone liked the guy for a reason.

Still.

I opened another spreadsheet. Then another. I started cross referencing dates and amounts. The numbers weren’t screaming at me. But something about that one line felt off. Like a puzzle piece that looked right, but out of place when you stepped back. I leaned back in my chair and stared at the screen. The headache from this morning had come back. Or maybe it never really left.

I circled the transaction again. Something about it felt wrong.

The first thing I did when I got to my apartment was kick off the instruments of torture. My feet hurt like I’d walked on nails. I threw my handbag on the kitchen counter and went on to shower, slipping into my pyjama shorts, an oversized T shirt, and slippers. I considered ordering take out as I flopped on the couch with my laptop. Victor’s company accounts were still hot on my mind.

I opened the laptop and stared at the screen for a minute before the sound of the front door opening made me look up. Only one person would walk into my place without knocking. My brother. Ethan walked in carrying two grocery bags and wearing that same faded hoodie he refused to throw away. That thing was now ancient.

“I was in the neighborhood,” he said, kicking the door shut behind him.

I rolled my eyes and set the laptop on the coffee table. “Unemployed people have too much time on their hands.”

“I am between jobs,” he corrected, walking into the kitchen. “There is a difference, you know. Between jobs means I am waiting for the right opportunity.”

“Waiting sounds a lot like napping and eating my snacks.”

He grinned and started unpacking the bags like he lived here. “I brought vegetables and that cheese you like.”

I moved to join him in the kitchen. I leaned against the counter while he kept moving around, putting away the groceries. I always enjoyed Ethan’s company. It was always easy being around him. He never brought up Dad unless I did, and after years of watching Randy Hart pretend I barely existed, that was a blessing. Ethan and I grew up in different houses. He got the father. All I got was the surname. Yet he somehow became the best brother I could possibly ask for.

I once suggested that he come work at the boutique, but he insisted that numbers weren’t his thing.

“How is the job hunting going?” I asked as I helped put the milk in the fridge.

He shrugged and kept unloading. “A couple of interviews this week. Nothing stuck yet, but something will come up eventually. One place said they liked my energy. Whatever that means.”

“It means they think you are charming, but probably unreliable,” I said with a smirk.

“Exactly. My brand.”

We teased each other for a while. He asked about my day, and I gave him the short version. Same old stuff. I didn’t bore him with Victor or the weird transaction. It felt too vague to bring up, and I didn’t want to sound paranoid over nothing.

Ethan noticed me glancing toward the laptop on the couch. “What?”

“I’ve got to finish looking at something for a client.”

“Then go work.” He pointed toward the living room. “I’ll cook.”

I looked at the grocery bag. “Great. Make decent pasta.”

He pointed toward the living room again. “Go be a nerd. I will handle the kitchen.”

I happily accepted. I grabbed my laptop and a fresh cup of coffee and settled back on the couch. The smell of garlic and onions started filling the space a few minutes later.

I reopened Victor’s audit files and went back to the transaction log. Meridian Advisors. I searched the company name. It looked legitimate enough on the surface. They had a basic website and a business registration. But the invoices were another story. Every payment was described simply as Consulting Services, with almost no supporting documentation attached. There was no scope of work or a detailed breakdown. Just a number and a vague label.

I frowned. That was sloppy. Even for a busy firm.

I searched for similar vendors in his records. Most of them had proper paperwork. Contracts. Timelines. Deliverables. Only one other vendor caught my attention after a while. Harbor Consulting Group. Its invoices followed almost the exact same format of vague descriptions and lack of detail. The amounts were different, but the pattern was similar. The more I looked, the more those two vendors bothered me. Everything else in Victor’s books was neat, organised, and properly documented. Then there were these two. They weren’t illegal. They were just messy. Victor didn’t strike me as someone who tolerated messy.

Ethan called me to the table a while later. I brought the laptop with me because I couldn’t quite let it go yet. Halfway through dinner, he noticed I was barely eating and kept glancing at the screen between bites.

“What are you looking at that is more interesting than my amazing cooking?” he asked.

I smiled and took another bite of the pasta. It was actually pretty good tonight. “My biggest client’s books.”

“The billionaire?”

I nodded.

“Anything exciting?”

“Not really.” I hesitated for a second. “Just two consulting companies that don’t make much sense.”

“What do you mean?”

“The invoices are vague. Everything is technically legal. It just feels off. I don’t know if I should bring it up with him.”

Ethan laughed and twirled more pasta onto his fork. “So your superpower is being suspicious of paperwork now?”

I laughed too. “It pays the bills.”

The conversation moved on after that. He told me more about his interviews. I told him about Laura bossing everyone around the office. It felt good to talk about normal things. By the time we finished eating, the laptop was long closed on the table. He helped me clear the plates and then headed out. He had an early meeting in the morning. Or at least that was what he claimed. We hugged at the door, and he told me not to stay up too late staring at spreadsheets. I promised I wouldn’t.

After he left, I cleared the rest of the table and returned to the couch. Meridian Advisors. Harbor Consulting Group. I wrote both names into my notebook. “It’s probably nothing,” I muttered to the empty apartment.

I turned off the lights and headed to bed. The notebook remained open on the coffee table. Meridian Advisors. Harbor Consulting Group. I had no idea those two names were about to fuck up my life.