“It is,” Saren assures him. “This guy helped build something that fundamentally changed how people connect online. The algorithms they developed for content personalization are industry leading.”
I watch this exchange with growing amazement. These aren’t the shallow, predatory alphas I’d been prepared to dislike. They’re asking intelligent questions about user engagement strategies and data privacy protocols. Cash is practically glowing under their attention, clearly thrilled to discuss his work with people who understand its significance.
“The privacy framework was actually my pet project,” Cash explains, warming to the subject. “Users needed transparency about how their data was being used without compromising the recommendation engine’s effectiveness.”
“Brilliant solution,” Egret nods approvingly. “Most platforms treat privacy as an afterthought. You guys built it into the foundation.”
Lucas sprawls in his seat. “Cash is amazing at that stuff.He can make the most complicated technical things sound simple.”
Egret sets down his crystal tumbler with a satisfied sigh, leveling me with a gaze full of pointed curiosity he doesn’t conceal. “I have to admit, when we first ran those background checks, my suspicions were raised. Cash’s profile was a surprise, but not concerning, obviously. Lucas and Kyren came up with nothing of particular interest. But we couldn’t find anything about Matheo Grande.” Egret sets his glass down and leans forward enough that I’m forced to meet his suddenly serious gaze. “Almost like he doesn’t exist at all.”
My blood runs cold. The fake surname—I’d completely forgotten about that detail.
When I’d called my mother after meeting Trinity at the gallery, I’d been so rattled by our encounter that I’d insisted she not reveal my connection to Elite Comfort Services. The last thing I’d wanted was for Trinity to think I was some kind of plant orchestrated by my matchmaking mother, even if that was pretty close to the truth.
So Mom had listed me asMatheo Grandein Trinity’s files.
Cash, Lucas, and Kyren all turn to look at me with expressions ranging from surprise to alarm. I practically see the wheels turning in their heads as they try to decide how I’m going to respond to the clear challenge in Egret’s voice.
I take a long sip of my scotch, buying myself a few seconds to decide whether to come clean or double down on the lie. The weight of their stares—both my friend’s and Trinity’s exes—presses down on me like a physical force.
With a heavy sigh, I set down my glass and meet Egret’s challenging gaze head-on.
“That’s because Matheo Grande doesn’t exist,” I admit. “My real name is Matheo Gamba.”
The momentary silence that follows feels deafening.
Brendin’s eyes widen with recognition. “Holy shit. You’retheMatheo. The guy who founded OurLog.”
“Guilty as charged.” I lean back in my chair, watching their faces carefully. “I started the company while still in college. Ran it for fifteen years before cashing out and sailing off into the sunset.”
“Wait, wait, wait.” Saren leans forward, his excitement palpable. “You’re telling me we’ve been sitting here talking to Cash about algorithms and user engagement, and the actual founder of OurLog has been quietly nursing a scotch this whole time?”
“I prefer to let guys like Cash take the spotlight these days,” I say with a shrug. “He’s better at the technical explanations, anyway. I was the one with the ideas and the grit, but the days when that sort of thing mattered are long gone.”
Brendin snaps his fingers. “I knew I recognized you from somewhere. In the early days, every new user automatically had you added as their first friend. Your profile picture was everywhere.”
“One of my less brilliant marketing decisions, in hindsight,” I admit with a grimace. “Luckily for me, that picture was so low resolution that most people don’t recognize me now. Aging twenty years probably helps, too.”
Egret’s expression has shifted from suspicious to genuinely curious. “Does Trinity know who you really are?”
“No.” The admission tastes bitter in my mouth. “She has no idea.”
“Why hide your identity?” Saren asks with a frown. “You worried she’s a gold digger, or something?”
I shake my head firmly. “Absolutely not. I knew from the moment I met her that Trinity isn’t like that. She’s building her own empire, making her own way. The last thing she wants is to stand on someone else’s shoulders.”
Egret exchanges a meaningful look with Brendin and Saren before clearing his throat. “Look, I think we owe you guys an explanation. Our...excessive interest in Trinity’s relationships isn’t what you probably think it is.”
Lucas tilts his head, not hiding his amusement. “Whatever can you mean? You guys have been great.”
Egret lets out an awkward laugh. “I’m guessing Trinity told you we dated in college.”
“And dumped her for not being omega enough,” Kyren drawls. “We know, but do go on. We’d love to hear more. You jealous she finally moved on?”
“We’re not jealous,” Brendin says quietly. “We feel guilty as hell.”
Saren nods, his expression carefully neutral. “What we did to Trinity five years ago, breaking off our engagement the way we did...it was cruel. Cowardly.”
