Ken’s text was still on Steve’s screen the next evening as his driver pulled up outside Ken’s modest apartment building in Tribeca.We need to talk. In person. Tomorrow night. My place.Steve had shown up exactly on time, dressed in a black button-down that clung to his frame like a second skin. He was ready—ready to push, ready to crack Ken open, ready to turn that “talk” into something neither of them could walk away from.But Ken never came down.Instead, Steve’s phone lit up with a call. He answered immediately, his pulse already spiking.“Hey, man,” Ken’s voice came through, sounding distracted and artificially casual. “Look, something came up with the startup. Emergency code review. I’m still at the office. Rain check? I’m so sorry, I’ll reschedule for a better time, bro.”Steve’s grip tightened on the phone. Through the background noise, he could hear faint club music and laughter. Not an office. Not even close.“You’re lying,” Steve said, his voice low and dangerous. “I can he
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