The next two weeks were paperwork.
Mitchell took me to the station. I gave my statement. The detectives showed me Dorian's search history. The timeline. The insurance policy. All of it.
I answered honestly. Didn't volunteer. Didn't cry. Didn't break.
At the end, Morrison shook my hand.
"We have enough for attempted manslaughter. Maybe more. The DA will decide."
"When's the trial?"
"Months. Maybe a year. He'll post bail. He's out already. His mother posted it."
Dorian was out. Free. Waiting.
I nodded. Left.
The days blurred.
I stayed at Willa's. Helped with her illustrations. Walked her cats. Cooked meals. Avoided my phone.
But the notifications kept coming.
Sloane's case was moving fast. Federal. No bail. She was in custody. Her lawyers were fighting. The internet was watching.
Dorian's video was still up. Fifty million views now. Comments still flooding in. Most of them about me. About the morgue. About the hotel. About the phones.
I became a meme. A legend. A cautionary tale.
"Don't mess with Mara Cross"
"She woke up dead and chose violence"
"The dead wife walked so we could run"
I ignored it.
Julian called every few days. Not pushing. Just checking. Updates on the encryption protocol. Questions about systems. Once, just to say he was thinking of me.
I didn't read into it.
Then, on a Tuesday, Mitchell called.
"Dorian took a plea."
I sat down. "What?"
"Attempted manslaughter. Eight to twelve years. He'll serve eight with good behavior. His lawyer worked out a deal. The DA didn't want to risk a trial."
"Eight years."
"Eight years. He'll be out in six if he behaves."
I looked out the window. Venice. People walking dogs. Living lives.
"He tried to kill me," I said.
"I know."
"And he gets eight years."
"It's not enough. I know. But it's something. He'll have a record. He'll be a convicted felon. His life is over."
I thought about it. Dorian in prison. Dorian with a record. Dorian who wanted to go viral, now famous for trying to kill his wife.
"It's not enough," I said.
"No. It's not."
I hung up. Sat there for a long time.
Willa found me an hour later. Still sitting. Still staring.
"What happened?"
"Dorian took a plea. Eight years."
She sat beside me. Didn't say anything. Just sat.
After a while, she said: "What do you want to do?"
"I don't know."
"You could celebrate. You could mourn. You could do nothing."
"I could work."
"Work?"
"Julian's offer. Head of Security. I could start."
She looked at me. "You want to work for him?"
"I want to do something. Sit here long enough, I'll start thinking. Thinking too much is dangerous."
"That's the healthiest thing you've said in two weeks."
I called Julian. He answered on the first ring.
"Mara."
"Does the job offer still stand?"
"Always."
"I'll start Monday."
"Monday's good. I'll send you the details."
"Julian?"
"Yeah?"
"Thank you."
"For what?"
"Not asking if I'm okay. Not pushing. Just... being there."
A pause. Then: "See you Monday, Mara."
He hung up.
Monday came.
I wore my own clothes. Jeans that fit. A blazer Willa helped me pick. Shoes without cat socks.
The building was the same. Glass and steel. Guard at the desk. He recognized me. Nodded.
"Thirty-second floor, Ms. Cross. Mr. Croft is expecting you."
Elevator. Fast. Silent. Doors opened onto the same black door.
It opened before I knocked.
Julian stood there. Suit today. Tieless. Same gray eyes.
"Welcome to your first day."
"Thanks."
He led me inside. The office was different. A desk in the corner. Monitors. A chair. My name on a small plaque.
Mara Cross, Head of Security.
"Your team is down the hall. Six people. Good ones. They'll report to you. The encryption protocol is on your system. I want your eyes on it by end of week."
"Okay."
He handed me a card. Access. Building. Systems. All of it.
"Any questions?"
"Hundreds. But I'll figure them out."
He almost smiled. "That's why I hired you."
He left. I sat at my desk. Looked at the monitors. The city below. The morning sun.
My phone buzzed. Willa: "First day! Kill it. Love you."
I smiled. Put the phone away.
Worked.
The encryption protocol was solid. Good architecture. Clean code. A few vulnerabilities. Nothing major. I made notes. Flagged issues. Started fixes.
At noon, someone knocked. One of my team. Young. Eager.
"Ms. Cross? We're going for lunch. Want to come?"
"Maybe tomorrow. I want to finish this section."
He nodded. Left.
I kept working.
At 3, Julian appeared in my doorway.
"You haven't eaten."
"I'm fine."
"Come on. Coffee at least."
I looked at him. He wasn't asking.
We went to the same bakery. Same table near the window. He got coffee. I got tea.
"How's the protocol?"
"Good. Needs work. Nothing major."
He nodded. Drank his coffee.
"Sloane's arraignment is tomorrow. Federal court. She'll plead not guilty. It's expected."
I didn't say anything.
"Her lawyers are trying to blame David Chen. Say he set up the data sales without her knowledge. That she was just a figurehead."
"That won't work."
"No. But it'll drag out. Trials take time."
We sat in silence. Watched the street.
"Why did you help me?" I asked. Again.
He looked at me. Really looked.
"Because you didn't ask for help. You just showed up. With proof. With a plan. With nothing to lose. Most people in your position would have crumbled. You didn't."
"I crumbled plenty. Just not in public."
"Same thing."
I didn't argue.
We finished our drinks. Walked back to the office.
At 6, I packed up. Julian was at his desk. Working.
"See you tomorrow," I said.
"Tomorrow."
I left.
The elevator. The lobby. The guard's nod. Outside, the city was lighting up. Streetlights. Car headlights. Window lights.
I walked to the corner. Waited for my Uber.
My phone buzzed. A notification.
Sloane's new post. From jail. Through her lawyers. A statement.
"I am innocent. I trusted the wrong people. I will fight this. My followers are my family and I would never hurt them."
Comments already flooding in. Mostly negative. Some supportive. The internet divided.
I swiped it away.
The Uber arrived. I got in. Gave Willa's address.
On the way, I thought about Dorian. Eight years. Sloane. Federal trial. Julian. The job. The future.
None of it felt real.
At Willa's, I walked in. Cats. Cinnamon. Her at the laptop.
"How was day one?"
"Good. Productive."
"Just good?"
"Just good."
She looked at me. "You okay?"
"I don't know."
"That's honest."
I sat on the couch. Cats climbed on me. Willa made tea. We watched TV. Something mindless. Reality show about housewives.
My phone buzzed. Julian.
"Forgot to ask. Dinner tomorrow?"
I stared at the screen.
Willa looked over. "Who's that?"
"Julian. Asking about dinner."
"Dinner? Like date dinner?"
"He said dinner. Not date."
"It's a date."
I didn't answer.
Typed: "Okay."
He replied: "7. Same place."
I put the phone down.
Willa grinned. "It's a date."
"It's dinner."
"Sure."
I threw a pillow at her. She laughed.
The cats didn't move.