When Liana Davis moves to Massachusetts, she brings her only daughter, an emergency fund, and what may be her late husband's most valuable and dangerous secret.
When Dominic Carter moves into his fourteenth foster home, he is given an ultimatum: ge...
─── The only choice you gave to me is one I took reluctantly ───
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
A/N (April 2020) i'm thinking about doing a little Q&A since we're all vibin together in quarantine. you can ask some questions here or dm me! or not. i'm just lonely and bored and need human contact x
Dominic Carter, 25 years old
He taps his finger absently against the polished surface of his desk, staring intently at the screen in front of him as his fingers fly across the keys like spiders, the frantic keyboard clicking driving Caspar to divert his focus out the window. Caspar, whose nervous energy Dominic can sense from across the desk, even as he focuses his attention on the code in front of him. The only light filtering into the entire office is muted by the thin layer of ice which sheets the window at the sixty-fourth floor.
He runs his hands through the length of his dark hair, pulling tensely at the ends before his hand returns to the desk, typing quickly again until he is pushing aside the desktop, leaning over to navigate through his work from Caspar's Macbook.
"It looks fine," he says finally, his voice soft in the sense that he never raises it. Never needs to.
Caspar looks down at the Macbook, then back up at the dark-haired man in front of him.
"Are you serious?"
Dominic nods, turning back toward the desktop to his right, Caspar's left, his eyes scanning intently the length of the screen. "The database itself shouldn't crash again. But you need to create a folder on the web server and develop the code there, instead of on your desktop."
"And how do you suggest I do that."
"What's wrong with the software you're using now?"
Caspar raises his brows incredulously.
"Is it slow?" Dominic asks.
"It's like... sedated."
He watches as Dominic's eyes examine the activity on Caspar's work database through his own screen. He seems unaffected by the mockery in his tone, an attribute that Caspar always admired but would never speak aloud, Dominic's ability to keep his composure. Not many businessmen on Wall Street had that sort of temperament.
"Why don't you just write a new one, then. I can't keep overriding the code on this server, your Mac will implode."
"I can get a new computer, I can't code a new database."
At this, Dominic finally glances up at Caspar from beneath his unruly dark hair.
"The owner of a data management firm can't code a software to manage his own data?"
Caspar grabs an invisible arrow from his chest and pretends to stick it into Dominic's desk. He leans back in his chair.
