Chapter 17
Alessia investigated Adrian anyway.
Not personally.
That would have been ridiculous.
She had people for that.
The report reached her desk before their third date.
Credit.
Litigation.
Business partners.
Debt.
Former relationships visible in public records.
One parking ticket from six years earlier.
Nothing alarming.
Naomi saw the folder.
Her expression changed.
“What is this?”
“Due diligence.”
“On dinner?”
“On a person.”
“You planning to acquire him?”
Alessia closed the file.
“No.”
“Then why does this look like an acquisition memo?”
She did not answer.
The problem was not that the information was false.
Most of it was accurate.
The problem was Adrian did not know she had collected it.
Garrett once controlled information because information created power.
Alessia had spent a year telling herself she had learned the opposite lesson.
Apparently not completely.
She brought the folder to Miriam.
Her mother opened it.
Read two pages.
Then looked up.
“You are insane.”
“That seems unnecessary.”
“You found his mortgage balance.”
“I did not personally find anything.”
“That somehow makes it worse.”
Alessia took the report back.
“What should I have done?”
Miriam stared.
“Asked him questions.”
“He could lie.”
“Yes.”
“That is the problem.”
“No.”
Miriam shook her head.
“That is the risk.”
The word bothered Alessia.
Risk was what careful people reduced.
Miriam continued.
“You want enough information to make betrayal impossible.”
“Yes.”
“At least you’re honest.”
“Is that unreasonable?”
“Yes.”
The answer came immediately.
Alessia looked away.
That evening she met Adrian at a small restaurant he had chosen.
She placed the report on the table.
He stared at it.
“What is that?”
“A background investigation.”
Silence.
“On me?”
“Yes.”
Adrian leaned back.
He did not look frightened.
He looked angry.
That was worse.
“How much?”
“What?”
“How much of my life did you decide you were entitled to inspect before asking me?”
Alessia felt herself become defensive.
“I needed to know who I was dealing with.”
“You could have asked.”
“You could have lied.”
“Yes.”
“Then asking is useless.”
Adrian looked at her for several seconds.
“No.”
He pushed the folder back.
“Asking lets me choose whether to tell you.”
The sentence landed.
Alessia looked down.
“I’m sorry.”
Adrian did not reassure her.
Good.
She had learned to distrust apologies that immediately demanded comfort.
He said:
“I understand why you did it.”
“That doesn’t make it acceptable.”
“No.”
She looked at him.
“Do you want to leave?”
“I’m thinking.”
He did.
For almost a minute.
Then:
“I want one rule.”
“What?”
“If you think something about me matters enough to investigate, ask me first.”
“And if I think you’ll lie?”
“Then don’t date me.”
Simple.
Unpleasant.
Accurate.
Alessia nodded.
“Okay.”
Adrian looked toward the report.
“Destroy it.”
She hesitated.
He noticed.
That hesitation embarrassed her more than the folder.
Alessia picked it up.
Tore it in half.
Adrian watched.
“You know digital copies exist.”
“Yes.”
“Then that was theatrical.”
“Yes.”
He smiled slightly.
She did too.
The date continued.
Badly at first.
Then better.
No dramatic forgiveness.
No declaration that he understood her trauma.
Just dinner after an argument neither person had won.
When Alessia told Miriam the next day, her mother asked:
“He stayed?”
“Yes.”
“Interesting.”
“What does that mean?”
“Nothing.”
Miriam drank tea.
Then added:
“He may be stupid.”
Alessia laughed.
May you like
Trust had not become easier.
It had simply become something she could no longer build secretly.
