The next morning came without calm.
Lena hadn't slept; neither had Nathaniel. Ethan was still at the desk, eyes red from the glow of his monitors.
Every few minutes, the system pinged another trace, another false lead. Whoever was in their network knew how to play with ghosts.
"Still nothing?" Lena asked, leaning over his shoulder.
Ethan shook his head. "Every time I get close, the trail loops back through dead servers. They're not hacking from outside; they're living inside our code."
Nathaniel poured coffee, black, no sugar. "Then smoke them out."
"I'm trying," Ethan muttered, "but whoever they are they know our architecture better than I do."
Lena crossed her arms. "Meaning it's someone who's been inside Cross Dynamics before."
Nathaniel's eyes narrowed. "A former employee?"
"Or a current one," Ethan said quietly.
The words hung heavy.
Lena straightened. "We can't start accusing people without proof."
Nathaniel's tone sharpened. "We can't afford not to."
He turned to Ethan. "Lock down internal access. No one outside this room sees the security network until we know who's behind it."
Ethan nodded, fingers flying.
Lena moved to the window again, watching the skyline burn under morning light. The dark tower from last night was still there lifeless, quiet. But she could feel it. The weight of eyes. The unseen observer who always stayed one step ahead.
"Whoever they are," she said softly, "they're patient. They want us to panic."
Nathaniel walked over. "Then we don't."
She met his gaze. "You sound sure."
"I'm not," he said simply. "I just know panic is how people like Adrian win."
The mention of Adrian was enough to twist the air tight again. He hadn't shown his face since the boardroom no messages, no press leaks, no public move. Which was worse than noise. It was calculation.
Ethan looked up suddenly. "Got something."
They turned to the screen. A faint digital signature blinked on his map small, almost invisible, but steady.
Nathaniel leaned closer. "Where?"
"Encrypted channel," Ethan said. "But it's pinging off our own internal servers. It's like… someone's mirroring us."
Lena frowned. "Mirroring?"
"Everything we say, everything we send it's being cloned in real time. Like a reflection."
Nathaniel's jaw tightened. "Cut the line."
"I can't," Ethan said. "If I touch it wrong, they'll know we found them."
Lena's pulse picked up. "So we watch back."
Nathaniel glanced at her. "You want to bait them?"
"I want to make them blink."
He hesitated, then nodded. "Do it."
Ethan opened a secondary feed — a sandboxed environment that looked like their real server but was empty.
Lena dictated the message:
"Operation Stormfront confirmed, moving tonight."
Ethan grinned faintly. "They'll bite."
Minutes passed, nothing.
Then the mirrored feed flashed. The watcher responded.
"Acknowledged, proceed."
Lena's eyes went cold. "They're using our language."
Nathaniel stepped closer, voice low. "Someone inside your circle."
She didn't deny it. She couldn't.
Ethan isolated the signal, tracing through encryption layers, muttering under his breath. "Come on… come on…"
The trail ended abruptly a blank node labeled with a single word:
"Archive."
Lena frowned. "What does that mean?"
Ethan's face drained of color. "It's not a location. It's a clearance level."
Nathaniel turned to Lena. "Who has Archive access?"
She hesitated then whispered the truth.
"Only three people. Me. You. And… Adrian."
The room went silent.
Ethan looked between them. "Then either he's back in, or"
"Or someone's using his credentials," Nathaniel finished.
Lena's pulse thundered. "And if it's the latter, that means"
"They're inside his network and ours," Nathaniel said. "Two empires. One ghost."
A knock sounded at the door. Sharp. Three times.
Everyone froze.
Ethan checked the cameras. His hands shook slightly. "No one's scheduled to be here."
The intercom crackled a voice distorted by static:
"Delivery for Ms. Voss. Signature required."
Lena exchanged a look with Nathaniel.
He nodded once to Ethan. "Stall them."
Ethan hesitated. "What if"
"Just do it."
Lena moved quietly toward the side desk where she kept her secured briefcase. Inside were the physical drives backups of every major project she'd ever built. Her insurance policy.
She froze. The lock was open.
Nathaniel saw her expression shift. "What?"
She opened the case. Empty.
The drives were gone.