Mel waited until late that evening. Mr. Hayes had left, and the corporate tower was settling into the deep, empty hum of a machine running on autopilot. Following Leila's breadcrumbs, Mel navigated the secure server layers, finally locating the hidden, volatile file: Legacy Security Audits/Project Chimera.
The file was enormous, a torrent of raw, unvarnished truth. It wasn't just financial data; it was a deep dive into Kallen's shadow network, complete with detailed photos of illegal transit manifests, and untraceable payments structured as "non-human cargo." The "weak points" she had found for Hayes were just the cover story; Chimera was the confession.
Her task was simple but terrifying: copy the core data and send it to Leila's secure external drop. She had perhaps five minutes before the system's passive monitoring flagged the massive data transfer.
She initiated the upload. The progress bar in the corner seemed to move in slow motion, each percentage point an unbearable weight of risk.
The upload reached 85% when a sudden, heavy silence fell over the hallway. Mel froze, her hand hovering over the 'cancel' button. The ambient office noise—the distant AC, the low server hum—had vanished.
She looked up. Standing in the doorway of her secluded office, leaning against the frame with his arms crossed, was Rhys Kallen.
He wasn't in a suit. He wore dark slacks and a black, high-end Henley that emphasized the dangerous breadth of his shoulders. He looked less like a CEO and more like a ghost, utterly silent and watching.
"I wondered how long it would take you to find it, Mel," Rhys said, his voice quiet, devoid of the earlier playful menace. It was replaced by a cold, cutting disappointment that hit her harder than rage.
Mel's mind raced. The upload was at 92%. Lying was useless. "Mr. Kallen. I—"
"Don't insult my intelligence," he cut her off, taking a slow, measured step into the room. "The file transfer audit just pinged me directly. Project Chimera. It's the worst thing we own, and you're stealing it."
The screen flickered. 100%. Transfer Complete.
Mel took a steadying breath, meeting his stare. "I wasn't stealing it, sir. I was trying to understand the full scope of the financial risk. The filtered data was intentionally incomplete. I needed the full picture to accurately report—"
"Stop," Rhys commanded. He walked to the edge of her desk, towering over her. The tension between them was electric, thick with danger. "I gave you a simple choice: play the game, find the five weak points I hand-fed you, and secure your future.
Instead, you look for the knife we keep hidden. Why, Mel? For money? For morality?"
"For honesty," Mel shot back, meeting his eyes without flinching. "You talk about competence, but you run a network based on lies. If I'm going to work here, I need to know what I'm covering up. The ethical cost of 'stability' is too high."
Rhys studied her, a flicker of genuine, dangerous intrigue replacing the anger. "You're a student. You have a scholarship. You risk everything for a ghost file you can't even use." He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a low, powerful whisper. "I could destroy your entire life, Mel. Right now. You know that, don't you?"
"Yes," Mel whispered back, holding her ground. "But you're not going to. Because if you wanted me gone, you wouldn't have walked in here to talk. You would have hit the firewall button and had security escort me out."
Rhys stood upright, his expression unreadable. He reached out, not to her, but to the network console on her desk. His finger hovered over the system reset button.
"The file is gone, Mel," he said, his eyes still fixed on hers. "The transfer is complete. I can't retrieve it. Tell me why I shouldn't erase you right now."
Mel knew she had to appeal to his core belief: the preservation of Kallen.
"Because if this data exists, it means someone else put it there for me to find. You have a mole. I found your leak's key, not your secret. If you erase me, you don't find the source. Let me stay. Let me find the source you missed."
Rhys let out a slow, breathy sigh, his hand dropping from the console. "You're either the smartest person I've ever hired or the most naïve. Very well, Mel. You have one chance to prove you're the former. Don't tell me what you found; tell me who helped you find it."
The game had just gone from corporate espionage to personal survival, and Mel had just bought herself a seat at the table.