Chapter 15: The Paper Shield
The audit notice sat on Elias's desk like a live grenade. He had spent the weekend building a fortress of paperwork, but the threat wasn't the financial scrutiny—it was the psychological warfare. His father's anxious silence over breakfast, the way his mother kept glancing at him—this was the real damage.
He met Eleanor at her locker, the weight of the unspoken truth making his smile feel brittle.
"Everything okay?" she asked, her perceptive eyes missing nothing. "You've been quiet since Friday."
"Just tired," he deflected. "Helping my dad with some year-end stuff at his firm." The lie was necessary, but it created a small, cold space between them.
He couldn't fight this battle in the shadows alone. He needed a public victory, something to counter the private assault. He needed to prove his legitimacy beyond reproach.
The Digital Bridge workshop was his answer.
The first session was that evening. He arrived early to set up the computer lab, his pulse a steady, focused rhythm. This was his element. This was a problem he could solve with knowledge, not secrecy.
The teachers trickled in, a mix of curiosity and skepticism on their faces. He saw Mr. Henderson, who gave him an encouraging nod. Then he saw Eleanor, slipping into a seat at the back. She hadn't told him she was coming.
A different kind of nervousness flickered in his chest. This was the first time she would see him not just fixing a problem, but teaching. Leading.
He began. His voice was calm, his explanations clear. He didn't talk down to them; he spoke as a colleague, demystifying the software that had been a source of frustration. He showed them shortcuts, explained the logic behind error messages, and turned their skepticism into engaged curiosity.
Halfway through, during a practical exercise, he noticed a teacher struggling. He moved to help, but Eleanor was there first, leaning over and quietly pointing to the correct menu. The teacher smiled in thanks. Eleanor caught his eye across the room and gave him a small, proud smile.
In that moment, the cold knot in his stomach loosened. She wasn't just observing; she was part of this. She believed in it.
The workshop was a success. As the teachers left, several stopped to thank him, their appreciation genuine. Dr. Evans, who had popped in to observe, gave him a firm handshake. "Excellent work, Eli. This is exactly what we needed."
The validation was a tangible force, a shield against the invisible attack on his family.
Later, as he packed up, Eleanor came to help. "You were amazing," she said, her voice soft. "You made it make sense. You gave them back a feeling of control."
"It's just code," he said, but he was looking at her, not the computers.
"It's not," she insisted. "It's power. The good kind." She hesitated, then reached into her bag. "I, uh, I made you something. Since you're always building things for everyone else."
She handed him a simple, bound booklet. On the cover, she had handwritten: "Digital Bridge: Instructor Guide & Curriculum."
He flipped through it. She had transcribed his entire lesson plan, added troubleshooting tips, and included space for notes for future sessions. It was professional, thoughtful, and utterly priceless.
"Eleanor, this is..."
"A paper shield," she said softly, meeting his gaze. "For whatever you're fighting."
The accuracy of her words stole his breath. She saw through him, past the lies and the deflections, straight to the core of the battle. She didn't know the details, but she knew he was at war.
He couldn't tell her about the audit. Not yet. But he could give her a different piece of the truth.
He took her hand, the booklet pressed between their palms. "It's the best shield I've ever been given," he said, his voice rough. "Thank you."
Walking her to her car under the darkening sky, Elias felt a renewed sense of purpose. Robert Miller could send auditors. He could use the system as a weapon. But he couldn't touch this—the respect Elias was earning, the partnership he was building with Eleanor, the legitimate enterprise he was creating from the ground up.
The paper shield she had given him was stronger than any legal document. It was a declaration of faith. And for now, that was the only armor he needed.