Ghosts in the Data
652 Words
Sarah didn’t waste time.
By the time Nathan’s footsteps disappeared down the hall, she was already tapping away at her tablet, face tight with focus.
Amelia stood at the window, arms crossed, watching the city through tinted glass. But her mind wasn’t on the skyline.
It was on him. Nathan Harper.
“There’s nothing. No LinkedIn, no company bios, no published work.”
Sarah’s voice cut through the tension like a scalpel as her fingers danced across her tablet. “Just one obscure mention—a consultancy gig in Boston, over a decade ago. Then he disappears.”
“Scrubbed clean?” Amelia asked
“Looks like it.” said Sarah
A chill crept into her spine. She turned slowly, eyes narrowing at the folder Nathan had left behind.
It was too clean. Too perfect.
Graphs, projections, targeted restructuring proposals, comprehensive and dangerously convincing. He didn’t just know the company. He knew her, her decisions, her hesitations, her limits.
“No one just walks into a fire like that unless they know where the exits are,” she murmured.
Sarah glanced up. “You still think he’s here to help?”
Amelia didn’t answer. Instead, she laid a hand on the folder, her grip tightening. “He didn’t ask for anything. No job title. No compensation. No stake.”
Sarah frowned. “That’s not comforting, you know.”
“I know.”
But Amelia couldn’t deny it—under the suspicion, under the fear, a tiny ember of something she hadn’t felt in weeks had sparked to life.
Hope.
The next morning Amelia strode into the conference room, heels echoing against polished floors. Her reflection in the glass was sharp: a woman in control—or pretending to be.
Nathan was already there.
Sleeves rolled, tie loosened, and the whiteboard behind him looked like a battlefield of numbers and arrows.
“You’re early,” she said.
He didn’t look up. “We’re late.”
She folded her arms. “You always write manifestos before breakfast?”
He handed her a new folder without missing a beat. “Phase One. Kill what’s draining you, fuel what’s growing. Your digital division is underutilized. Your logistics wing? Dead weight. The numbers don’t lie.”
Amelia sat, flipping through the pages. “These are people. Departments. Legacies.”
“And this is survival,” he replied. “Turner Enterprises is a fortress with a cracked foundation. Nostalgia won’t stop it from collapsing.”
She slammed the folder shut. “You’re asking me to gut my parents’ company.”
“I’m asking you to save it.”
A long silence hung between them.
Then her phone buzzed.
Unknown Number: You don’t know who he is.*
Her heart skipped. She shoved the phone into her blazer pocket before Nathan could see.
“You okay?” he asked, eyes scanning her face.
“Fine,” she said, forcing calm into her voice. “I’ll review your plan. That’s all for now.”
But Nathan didn’t move. “You don’t have time to review anything. You have time to act. That’s it.”
He turned and walked out, the door clicking shut behind him like a verdict.
That night, the office was dark, save for a single desk lamp casting long shadows across her father’s desk.
Amelia flipped through more documents, comparing Nathan’s projections against archived reports. Every prediction matched historical trends. Every estimate aligned. Every risk? Accounted for.
Except him.
Her phone buzzed again.
Unknown Number: Ask him what happened in Boston.
Her breath caught.
Boston?
She straightened instantly. “Sarah!”
A moment later, her assistant peeked in. “You called?”
“I need a deeper search. Dig into Boston. Lawsuits, past employers, client complaints—whatever you can find on Nathan Harper. Full background. Don’t miss a thing.”
Sarah hesitated. “Why Boston?”
Amelia’s gaze darkened. “Because that’s where the ghosts are.”
- Writer
