When the doors opened, the office floor looked like a still life—desks, folders, the blue ghost-glow of a few screens left on standby.
I dropped my bag on my desk and pulled out my phone. One name.Sienna.
It took three rings."Mmmh—Elara? It's—" a pause, rustle of sheets, "—do you know what time it is?"
"Two-oh-seven," I said briskly. "I need your help. My stepmother's up to no good."
That snapped the sleep out of her voice like a switch. "Shit. Okay, okay—what do you need?"
"I need access to archived or recently deleted files of the Westland project. I think they're purging the vendor data. I'm at Sterling now."
"Good. Boot the internal archive—Server Four, not Two. Four's off the mirrored backup. It'll let me slip in without tripping the audit log."
"Got it." I was already at my desk, entering the override code my father had once told me never to use. The hum deepened as the server stack in the far corner blinked awake, each light a heartbeat.
I heard tapping from Sienna's end. "You're live," Sienna said. Her tone had dropped—fully awake now, analytical, sharp. "I'll tunnel through your machine. Just don't touch anything that says Finance Secure. I'll handle that side. You focus on physical files."
"I'm walking there already," I said, already striding toward the glass-partitioned wing.
"Okay. Let me know if there's anything specific you want me to search for. I'll look through in the meantime."
The Westland cubicles were dark, save for the small red LEDs of sleeping monitors. I flicked on the overheads. The light fell across neat rows of folders, company mugs, post-it notes with faded reminders. The silence was so complete that the rustle of paper sounded like thunder.
"Sienna," I said as I started going through the binders. "See if you can find any shipping manifests stamped February through April."
I started pulling files—Helios Development, vendor code HD-0143. One invoice. Then another. Then an expense log that didn't belong: payments signed off by Diana, approved by finance two days apart. My pulse spiked.
"Sienna," I said, phone on speaker as I scanned the documents. "I'm looking at manual authorizations. The dates line up with Helios's supposed logistics period."
Her keyboard clattered faintly through the line. "Yeah, I'm seeing digital copies vanish as we speak. Someone's deleting from the server end. But I've got partial cache. Give me five minutes."
"Take three," I said, shoving folders into a box.
"Elara," she warned, voice steady but edged, "you realize if Diana's still awake, she'll see the server boot logs and know you're inside?"
"She'll figure it out eventually," I said. "But by then, we'll already have proof."
"God, I hate when you sound like that."
"Like what?"
"Like you're two steps from burning the building down."
"Only if she makes me."
There was a beat of static silence, then Sienna sighed, resigned. "Fine. I'll keep her out of the system as long as I can. But if it kicks me, I'll send everything I've mirrored to your local drive. Check the Westland payment queue—see if anything's still pending."
I set the box of files on the nearest desk and pulled up the project's paper ledger. The last entry stopped cold three days ago—right when Diana had called me about "transparency."
"They froze it already," I said quietly.
"Which means they're done transferring."
"Or about to start something new," I said.
The air felt different now—too still, like the office itself was listening. I looked toward the glass wall of Diana's corner suite, the lights beyond faint and amber.
"I'm going in there next," I told Sienna.
"Elara—wait for me to secure your end first—"
But I was already moving.
The carpet muted my steps as I crossed the dark corridor. Diana's office loomed ahead, that pristine glass box she'd made her throne—minimalist, cold, calculated. Even now, it looked like it was waiting for her, all order and symmetry.I took out the master key my father gave me, and turned her lock open.
Inside, the air was different—too clean, perfumed faintly with white lilies and ozone from the air purifier. The blinds were half-drawn, leaving long, pale stripes of city light across her desk. Everything was perfectly in place: tablet centered, pens aligned, not a single sheet out of order.
"Okay," Sienna's voice came faintly from my phone. "You're inside?"
"Yes. I'm Checking her drawers. If she's been signing off unauthorized transfers, there'll be backup records—Diana never relies on digital copies alone."
I walked behind her desk. The top drawer opened smoothly: stationery, USB drives, nothing unusual. The second—locked.
"Sienna, I've got a lock."
"Manual?"
"Yeah."
"Then it's worth opening."
I took a paper clip from the table and worked it into the slot. It gave after a few tense seconds. Inside: a stack of paper folders and one thick black binder, the kind reserved for executive audits.Westland Project — Vendor Control.
My pulse stuttered. I flipped it open. Inside were payment approvals, full signatures, internal memos—each cross-referencing project codes, all leading back to Helios Development.
Sienna's voice sharpened. "Elara, your screen just pinged. Someone's logging into the finance backend—administrator level. That's not me."
"Diana?"
"Or whoever's cleaning up after her. Whatever you're doing, make it fast."
I thumbed through the documents—February, March, April—each stamped, routed through an internal account that didn't belong to Sterling or Westland Holdings. The transfers weren't just inflated. They were redirected.
There was a second folder beneath the binder—newer. The header read Haven Logistics. The format was identical, the signature the same.
"They've already set up the next front," I whispered.
"Elara, I'm seeing traffic. Holy hell, they're scrubbing it in real time."
My phone buzzed again. Another line. Kaelen.
I answered with one hand while snapping photos of each page with the other. "I'm in Diana's office," I said quietly.
"I know," he replied, voice clipped. "Mark traced the Helios winding-up order. It's a smokescreen—assets are being moved into another company registered in Singapore. Haven Logistics."
I froze. "I just found that name."
"Then they're using Sterling's infrastructure to bury it," he said. "Get whatever you can and get out. If they realize you're inside, they'll wipe the internal servers next."
Sienna's voice came through my other ear, rapid and low. "Elara, the system just spiked—someone's pushing a remote command. They're initiating a data purge."
"Can you stop it?"
"I can slow it."
"That's enough." I gathered the files, stuffing them into the box, snapping every relevant page on my phone as backup.
"Elara, you need to move," Kaelen said.
"I'm almost done."
"Don't argue with me right now." His voice had gone cold, deliberate—the tone he used when giving battlefield orders. "They know someone's in the system."
The monitor on Diana's desk blinked awake on its own.USER: ADMIN-01 — REMOTE CONNECTION ESTABLISHED.
For a split second, the cursor flickered across the screen, lines of code scrolling too fast to read.
Then, a message appeared, dead center.
GET OUT.
The screen went black.
My breath caught.
"Elara?" Sienna's voice was a sharp thread in my ear. "Talk to me."
"I think someone just saw me," I said.
"Elara, get out now," Kaelen said, his voice steady but deadly quiet.
I grabbed the box, the phone, the drive, and bolted for the door.
The glass door to Diana's office clicked shut behind me. I slipped the file box onto the credenza and pulled my phone closer.
"Alright, Sienna," I said. "I've got the ledgers, and the physicals—"
"Elara." Sienna's voice cut in, low and urgent. "Someone just entered the building."
My heart stopped. "What?"
"Access log shows a card swipe at the west elevator. It's not security. It's a restricted ID—no name, no timestamp. That's manual override."
I froze, every nerve in my body suddenly wired too tight. "Which floor?"
"The one you're at," she said. "Thirty."
My heart fell into my stomach. Instinct moved faster than thought—I reached for the switches and plunged the room into darkness. The city lights outside glowed faintly through the blinds, slicing thin bars of silver across the carpet.
"Elara, you need to get out," Sienna said, voice clipped. "Now."
"I... Alright."
I slipped my phone into my palm, the other hand gripping the files. The hum of the air conditioner had stopped—every sound now was too loud. My footsteps, the soft brush of paper.
Then, somewhere down the corridor—the elevator dinged. I moved behind a cabinet of files, and held my breath.
A man's voice called out, in a sing-song tone which sounded wrong in this silence. "Elara~"
My breath caught.
"Hey—I know you're here. Come on out, I just want to talk." There was a sound of his finger tapping on one of the tables, impatiently.
The timbre of it hit somewhere deep, an echo of nights I tried not to remember—hands over my mouth, the weight of fear pressing me down. I pressed a hand to my chest to keep it quiet.
"Who is that?" Sienna demanded on the phone.
I couldn't answer. My throat wouldn't work. I turned the volume of my phone down, fearing that he might hear it even though it's not on speakerphone.
"Elara?" Kaelen's voice came through the second line, tight, urgent. "Sienna told me what's happening. Where are you now?"
"Still on the floor," I whispered, trembling slightly.
"Get out, baby. Now. Don't think, just move."
The man's footsteps grew louder, more confident. "You shouldn't be here alone," he called again, his tone dipping into a false warmth.
I crouched, heart hammering. The dark swallowed everything but the thin gleam of exit lights.
"Elara, listen," Sienna said. "He's turning left—toward the conference wing. You have forty seconds to clear the main hall before he loops back."
I exhaled shakily. "Okay."
Kaelen's voice hardened. "I'm on my way."
"No," I whispered. "Just—stay on the line."
But when his voice came again—low, terrified—it was too loud in the empty floor. I put on my ear piece, finding it tremendously hard in the dark, with trembling fingers. The silence that followed felt like a held breath.
I slid the phone into my pocket and moved—slow, deliberate, staying low between cubicles. Every shadow looked like a shape. Every creak sounded like a hand reaching.
The man's footsteps changed direction. He was coming back.
I ducked behind a row of filing cabinets, pressing my back to the cold metal. My pulse was too loud. Too visible.
"Elara," he called again, closer now. "You can't hide forever."
The words hit like a knife in the dark.
Sienna's voice hissed through my earpiece—barely audible. "Service stairwell's clear. Fifteen meters ahead, on your right."
I waited—counted to three—and ran.
The echo of my own footsteps chased me down the hall, the red exit light flickering ahead like salvation. I hit the door hard, slipped through, and didn't stop until I reached the lower floors, lungs burning, hands shaking so badly I nearly dropped the files.
When I finally pushed out into the service lot, the night air hit me like a shock—cold, alive, full of sound.
A black car screeched to a stop. Kaelen stepped out before it fully halted, coat half-buttoned, eyes searching until they locked on me.
I didn't realize I was crying until he pulled me into his arms.
"It's over," he said roughly, hand at the back of my head. "You're safe now. I've got you."