Mel sat at her terminal, the city lights a silent, distant backdrop to the heavy ethical burden pressing on her. The secured financial access Rhys had given her was breathtakingly comprehensive. Within minutes, she was deep in Leila Vaughn's private accounts, a painful violation of trust.
Leila, a public figure, consultant and director, was remarkably clean. No secret trusts, no shell companies, a testament to her genuine integrity. But Mel wasn't hunting for crime; she was hunting for the "single, undeniable ethical flaw," as Rhys had demanded, the perfect lever for political sabotage.
She finally found it under a small, non-profit foundation Leila chaired: The Green Future Fund.
Two years prior, Leila had quietly funneled a substantial personal donation into the fund, which was entirely legal. However, the accompanying ledger showed the fund had purchased its office space from a small, struggling property company—a company owned by Leila's estranged brother. It was a completely legitimate attempt to help family discreetly, but under corporate scrutiny, it looked like a calculated conflict of interest. It was the perfect, legal weapon.
Mel felt a wave of nausea. She had found the knife, and now she had to hand it to the person who would use it against her only ally.
Mel saved the brief, clinical report labeled "Vaughn Portfolio Review: Section 4.1"—and sent it to Rhys's dedicated secure inbox. A minute later, the private line buzzed.
She found Rhys in his office, sitting at his massive desk, simply watching her as she approached. He didn't acknowledge the report; instead, he simply asked, "Are you hungry?"
Mel was confused by the abrupt shift. "Sir?"
"It's past midnight. I haven't eaten, and I suspect you haven't either," Rhys said, standing up. "Come."
He led her not to the executive cafeteria, but to a private elevator that whisked them down to the ground level, exiting directly into a waiting black sedan.
"Where are we going?" Mel asked, trying to ignore the magnetic proximity of his presence in the back seat.
"To see if you're a revolutionary or a strategist," Rhys replied, his eyes dark in the low light. "We're going to a late-night diner. I want to talk about The Argos Initiative... without the steel cage of this building around us."
While Rhys drove, Mel sent a rapid text update to her high school group chat, The Survivalists.
💬💬Mel: I did it. I found dirt on Leila. I feel sick. He's driving me to a diner right now. I don't know what to do next.
The immediate reply came from Jenna (The Cynic):
Jenna: STOP. You are in. You won the first test. This diner is the second. Rhys Kallen doesn't take people out for burgers for fun. He's testing your loyalty and your narrative. He's looking for the leak. You are a spy, Mel. You tell him a clean lie that satisfies his ego and protects the actual mission. Pretend to be his soldier. Don't mention Chimera, just blame Leila's power grab.
Jenna's cold, calculated advice, backed by a heart emoji from Sam, gave Mel the structure she needed. She wasn't betraying Leila; she was taking a position to defend her from a higher vantage point.
The contrast was jarring: eating greasy burgers and lukewarm coffee in a brightly lit, noisy diner while discussing a multi-billion dollar expansion and political maneuvering.
"The file you sent," Rhys finally said, placing his cup down. "It's clean. Political, not criminal. You showed discretion. You targeted her weak point, not her throat."
"I focused on what you asked for: a legal flaw that creates leverage," Mel said, maintaining steady eye contact.
Rhys leaned across the table. "You could have invented something dirtier. You could have refused. But you followed the order. That buys you trust, Mel."
He paused, his eyes intense and searching. "You didn't name the method, only the person. Tell me how Leila Vaughn gave you access to Project Chimera."
Mel deployed Jenna's strategy, keeping her answer minimal and focused on corporate politics. "Leila didn't 'give' it to me. She told me the codename, 'Chimera,' and the server location. She told me to look for 'unstable data.' She wanted to frame Hayes and get a seat on his committee. It wasn't about me; it was about internal power."
Rhys studied her for a long moment, a slow, predatory smile finally spreading across his face.
"Excellent. The entire operation was designed to test the loyalty of my team. And your loyalty has been proven—to strategy, if not to me."
He reached out and gently brushed a stray strand of hair from her cheek, his touch sending a profound jolt through her.
"You risked everything for honesty, and now you're compromising it for power. You're learning fast, Mel. You have the kind of dangerous pragmatism I need right here."
The shared meal, the intense eye contact, and the high-stakes conversation blurred the lines between boss and employee, enemy and confidant. Mel realized with a sickening lurch that she was playing his game perfectly, and the consequence was an intimacy—a shared secret—that felt more dangerous than any threat.