His Regret: I Am Untouchable Now

CHAPTER TWENTY: INVESTIGATION

MORRISON

I stood in front of the glass wall of my dimly lit office, watching my reflection as if it could answer me.

Because tonight, I wasn’t just looking for information. I was looking for the truth someone was trying hard to bury.

The light emanating from three large monitors cast a cold, gray glow on my body.

I took a deep breath and turned around, focusing my attention on the primary screen where documents were loaded.

I then walked gently to the workspace chair and took a seat. Every second felt borrowed as I waited for my head of security.

A mug of cold coffee sat untouched beside the sprawling network diagram taped to the wall, with detailed routers and firewalls needed to bypass security.

My fingers hovered over the keyboard, ready to dig through deleted logs and hidden partitions to uncover the true identity of “Quinn Ledger.”

Minutes later, the door clicked open, and my head of security entered.

“Good evening, Sir,” he bowed as he greeted respectfully.

“Welcome, Alex,” I pointed to the chair next to me, “you may have your seat.”

“There is not much time,” I continued, “a lot has happened. In addition to what you found, which is really nothing, you will stay here with me all night till we have gotten a handful of information.”

“Yes, Sir.”

And then it began, not work but war.

Not against Jasper at the moment. But against whom I couldn’t see, but I could already feel.

Screens flickered, data streamed, files opened, yet minutes and hours passed, but nothing tangible was found.

“There is something here, Boss,” Alex said from his own system.

I got up from my desk, almost breaking into a run. My eyes fixed on the screen as lines of information began to appear.

“QUINN LEDGER”

Basic profile; I read carefully, everything was clean and neatly structured.

“Born—”

I paused there; something felt off immediately.

I turned to Alex, “Quinn was 24 when I met her, the date of birth here is supposed to be 1995, but it reads 1999.”

“Sure, Sir?” Alex asked, “These sites sometimes make mistakes. Hospital records and school history align. Marriage records with Jasper Finn are very valid—”

“I am sure of what I am saying,” I cut in.

Because I remembered, and memory doesn’t glitch.

“Right, Sir.”

“Good.” I leaned forward, “Go deeper.”

He scrolled further, manoeuvring options and features. The system shifted, permissions overridden and restricted layers unlocked.

I stood upright with my hands in my pockets as I watched silently. Suddenly, my eyes caught something.

“Stop.”

Everything froze.

“Go back.”

Alex reversed the command immediately. “There,” I said, pointing.

It was a timestamp, small and almost invisible. “This doesn’t align,” I said.

Alex leaned closer, “You are right.”

The room grew more tense. Now we were looking, not reading.

“Zoom in.”

The file expanded and showed a gap; a missing section in her timeline.

“Run cross-reference.”

Alex obeyed. Keys clicked rapidly, systems scanned.

“Sir…” Alex’s voice dropped slightly.

“Keep going.”

Files were opening faster now. Showing school records, medical logs, and government entries. They were all there, complete and clean. But looked unreal.

“They are too clean,” I said.

Alex nodded, “Yes, like they were inserted.”

That was right. They were manufactured, not lived. The inconsistencies were so infinitesimal that no person could easily notice them.

But one thing was certain to me: no one just appears from nowhere.

It was past 3 AM, and we were still identifying the loopholes and looking for more significant elements, when suddenly, the system glitched so hard that everything froze.

“What the—” Alex muttered.

“Don’t touch it.” I snapped.

But it was too late. The system blinked, and then, everything turned blank. Every file was gone, not deleted but wiped. The room dropped dead in silence.

Then a single line appeared on the screen.

“ACESS RESTRICTED… LEVEL OVERRIDE DETECTED…”

My blood ran cold.

“They are controlling the system,” Alex said.

I stood there dumbfounded for some seconds. Whoever this was, they were not relenting, but waiting and watching back.

Another line appeared, and then a text, not system-generated but typed.

“You should have stopped digging…”

They weren't hiding anymore, but warning me.

Alex turned to me immediately, “Sir—”

“Shut it down,” I said.

But I didn’t move. Because I was staring at that line, reading the text again and understanding something I hadn’t before.

Someone somewhere was trying so hard to hide the identity of Quinn. And whoever it was did that so well that they mounted guard on her inner profile.

They knew exactly what I was looking for, which meant they knew exactly who she was and, importantly, who she wasn’t.

I straightened slowly, “Recover whatever you can.” I said calmly to Alex.

But my mind was far away. Connecting the dots.

“Selection…”

Her voice echoed in my head.

I turned, already moving.

“Sir, where are you heading to?” Alex called, “It is just 4 in the morning.”

I didn’t stop. “Going to finish this.”

I wasn’t thinking anymore, I was closing in. I drove off from the office to the hotel that morning.

My patience could no longer contain, and I could not afford to wait for the next minute, talk more, an hour, two, or more.

By the time I got to her door, I already knew, not everything, but enough.

On the second knock, her voice rang. “Who is there?”

Perhaps, she was already awake. Good for both of us.

“Morrison.”

“What is it? It is just 4 in the morning.”

“You need to hear me out; it is important.”

Moments later, the door opened. She held the door from the inside. “Whatever it is, cannot wait for a few more hours?”

“Let me in.”

She quietly left the door. I stepped inside slowly as I closed the door behind me.

“Your records,” I paused, “they are clean.”

Her expression didn’t change. “I don’t understand —”

“Your timeline doesn’t align.” I said briskly, “And your past has gaps.”

Her breathing shifted slightly, barely, but I saw it.

“And, they tried to wipe it when I got close.”

She kept her gaze fixed firmly on the floor, avoiding my questionable look.

“Who are you, Quinn?” I asked quietly.

I could hear her heart pounding against her ribs.

I exhaled slowly, “Quinn Ledger does not exist.”

I paused and stepped closer. Close enough that there was no distance left to hide behind.

“So tell me, who did they create?”

And at that time, Quinn didn’t just avoid my gaze; she froze.

AUTHOR NOTE

And that’s the end of Arc One.

If you’ve made it this far, then you already feel it—the tension, the questions, the things that don’t quite add up. Quinn is only just beginning to unravel, and every answer is going to come with a cost.

So tell me… what do you think is really going on? I’d love to hear your thoughts, your theories, and what you think happens next. Stay with me, because this is where everything changes.