Elara Quinn POV
Elara stood up so fast her chair scraped the floor.
"Wait," she said. "That's not necessary."
Too late.
All eyes in the meeting room were already on her.
Carol Winters smiled from the front of the table, hands folded. "It is necessary, Elara. And overdue."
Elara's face warmed. She hated being the center of attention. Her heart started to beat too fast.
Carol continued, "This charity drive has reached heights we have never seen before. Forty seven thousand dollars and counting. Families helped. Trust built. And that is because of Elara Quinn."
A wave of applause filled the room.
Elara froze.
"Please," she said softly. "It wasn't just me."
"That's what people who care say," Carol replied kindly. "But we see your dedication."
Elara sat down slowly, her hands shaking.
Across the table, Marcus Chen clapped the loudest.
"Truly inspiring," he said. "Elara is the heart of this place."
Her stomach twisted.
Marcus stood. "I would like to add something."
Elara's breath caught.
"We have been discussing visibility," Marcus continued. "And I believe it is time to stop hiding our greatest strength."
He turned to face her.
"Elara," he said warmly, "you should be the face of this charity."
The room hummed with agreement.
Vanessa lifted her phone instantly.
"Elara say something," she whispered, already filming. "This is huge."
Elara shook her head. "I don't want that."
Carol looked surprised. "Why not?"
"Because the work matters more than who does it," Elara said. "This isn't about me."
Marcus smiled. "That humility is exactly why people will trust you."
Trust.
The word hit her like a warning bell.
Vanessa stepped closer, camera still up. "Just a few words."
Elara swallowed. Every instinct told her to say no. But the room was watching. Waiting.
"I just," Elara began, her voice unsteady, "I just want families to feel safe. That's all."
Vanessa beamed. "Perfect."
She lowered the phone and started typing fast.
Marcus nodded. "See? Natural."
The meeting ended soon after. People stopped Elara to thank her, praise her, hug her. Each word felt heavier than the last.
"You deserve this," Carol said as she passed.
Elara smiled weakly.
She escaped into the hallway and leaned against the wall, breathing hard.
This was too much. Too fast.
Vanessa caught up to her. "That video is already blowing up."
"Vanessa," Elara said quietly, "please don't post too much."
Vanessa laughed. "Relax. People love you."
"I don't want them to," Elara replied.
Vanessa blinked. "Why not?"
Elara searched for the right words. "Because love turns into judgment really fast."
Vanessa waved it off. "You worry too much."
She walked away, phone buzzing nonstop.
Elara stayed where she was.
Something felt wrong.
That afternoon, volunteers treated her differently. Softer. Careful. Like she was fragile or special.
She hated it.
She went back to work, helping pack boxes, checking lists, answering calls. Still, cameras followed her. Smiles. Praise.
At one point, she saw Marcus watching her again.
Writing.
Always writing.
Later, as the building emptied, Elara sat alone at her desk. Nina's card rested beside her keyboard. She touched it for comfort.
Her phone buzzed.
Another notification from Vanessa.
My amazing friend Elara. The angel of Christmas.
Elara closed her eyes.
This was not what she wanted.
She packed her bag and headed out, the weight in her chest growing heavier with every step.
Across the building, a door clicked shut.
Marcus Chen sat alone in his office.
The smile was gone.
He turned to his computer and logged into the security system.
Rows of dates filled the screen.
He selected one.
Then another.
Footage played briefly. Elara at her desk. Late nights. Quiet halls.
Marcus watched, expression flat.
Then he clicked delete.
A warning popped up.
Are you sure?
"Yes," he murmured.
Another date.
Delete.
Another.
Delete.
Key moments vanished one by one.
The open box. The late night transfer. The empty office.
Gone.
Marcus leaned back and folded his hands.
"Too good to be true," he said softly.
He closed the system and turned off the light.
Outside, Christmas music drifted through the cold air.
And somewhere in the city, Elara Quinn walked home unaware that the proof of her innocence was disappearing, frame by frame.