Riddles by the Rain-Streaked Pool

Claire stood at the edge of the infinity pool, her silk gown catching the warm Egyptian night. Lightning forked across the desert sky, illuminating the distant silhouette of the sphinx—ancient, inscrutable, watching as it had for millennia.

"You've been quiet tonight."

Marcus's voice came from behind her. She didn't turn. She'd known he was a spy for three months now. Not the romantic kind—no martini glasses, no exotic weapons. Just corporate espionage, selling her biotech firm's research to competitors. A traitor in silk pajamas.

"Just thinking," she said.

He stepped closer, his reflection joining hers in the dark water. The pool's surface trembled with each rumble of thunder.

"About us?" Marcus asked. His hand settled on her shoulder, warm and familiar. That was the cruelty of it—she still loved him. Or loved the version of him she'd believed in.

The sphinx seemed to mock her. The ancient creature had guarded its secrets for thousands of years. Claire could barely keep one for three days.

"About riddles," she said finally. "The sphinx asked Oedipus what walks on four legs in the morning, two at noon, three in the evening."

Marcus laughed softly against her neck. "Man. Childhood, adulthood, old age."

"Another riddle," she whispered. "What does a woman do when she discovers her husband is selling her life's work to the highest bidder?"

She felt him freeze.

"Claire—"

She turned to face him. Lightning flashed again, revealing everything for a split second: his shock, his fear, his calculating mind already working the angles.

"The email folder you thought you hid," she said. "I've known since Cairo."

Behind them, the sphinx maintained its eternal silence. Some riddles answer themselves. Some answers destroy everything.

"So what now?" Marcus asked, his voice stripped bare.

Claire looked at the pool's dark surface, at their distorted reflections wavering together, soon to separate forever.

"Now," she said, "we see if you can swim against the tide."