Chapter Two:

Adrian POV

“I was in your office.” The moment the words leave my mouth, I see the shift in her eyes. Not shock, calculation.

Good.

If she is thinking clearly, she is not breaking. The ballroom noise returns slowly around us, but Lena and I are standing inside a quiet war.

She studies me like I am evidence.

“You accessed my terminal,” she says under her breath.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because I was looking for the same thing you were.” That is the truth.

Just not the whole truth. Her jaw tightens. “And what was that?” “A discrepancy in the subsidiary account. The same one you flagged earlier that week.” Her eyes flicker. She did not expect that, I continued before she could build another accusation. “You weren’t the only one who noticed irregular transfers.” Then why did the final report show only my credentials? She asks because someone wanted it that way. Because someone needed a clean scapegoat, because I allowed it to happen, but I don’t say that. “Because the file I accessed disappeared,” I reply instead. “Replaced with a modified version hours later.”

Her breathing slows. She is processing.

“You never told me that,” she says. “You never asked.”

That earns me a look sharp enough to cut.

The board member who started the conversation earlier tries to regain control of the room, but it’s too late. The tension has already shifted. Serena is watching us carefully, and Daniel is watching Serena. And I am watching all of them. Lena steps back slightly, putting space between us. “You let them fire me.”

“Yes.”

No excuse.

No justification.

The word lands heavily between us. Her expression hardens, but there is something else there now. Not just anger.

Confusion.

“You believed I did it,” she says, I believed the evidence placed in front of me. And you didn’t question it?

“I did.”

“But not enough.”

I see the wound in her eyes. The part that trusted me once, I crushed that trust myself. The evening ends without further public confrontation. Investors disperse. The board pretends nothing happened.

Back in my office, Lena stands by the glass wall overlooking the city. “You accessed my system,” she repeats, quieter now. “But you didn’t download anything under your own clearance.”

“No.”

“Why?”

“Because if I had, it would have triggered an alert. Whoever altered the logs would have known I was suspicious.”

She turns to face me fully. “So you used my access instead.”

“Yes.”

Her laugh is soft and humorless. “That’s convenient.” It wasn’t meant to frame you.

“But it did.”

Silence.

She walks toward my desk and places her palm flat on it. Did you know the metadata was altered before you signed the dismissal?

“No.”

Did you ever go back and check?

“Yes.”

“When?”

Three days after you were fired, her head tilts slightly. “And?” The audit trail had been cleaned. That part still bothers me. Whoever did it had internal clearance at the highest level.

Family-level.

“I reopened the case because someone accessed the archived breach folder two months ago,” I tell her.

She stiffens. “Who?”

“The access was routed through an encrypted proxy. But the origin network traced back to one of our private estate servers.”

Her eyes darken.

“The Vale estate,” she says.

“Yes.”

Which means this was never just corporate politics.

It was personal.

Lena steps away from the desk slowly. “Serena has access to the estate network?”

“No.”

“Your father?”

“Yes.”

The word hangs in the air. She doesn’t react emotionally. She just absorbs it. “Does he know the case is reopened?” she asks.

“No.”

That part is intentional.

She studies me again, and for the first time tonight, I see something shift in her expression, not hatred, but assessment. “You’re not fully in control here,” she says quietly.

“No.”

“Then why bring me back into it?”

“Because you don’t scare easily anymore.” Her lips press together. That was not the answer she expected. “You think I won’t hesitate,” she says.

“I know you won’t.”

There is a knock on the door. Before I can respond, it opens, and Serena walks in without waiting. “We need to talk,” she says. Her gaze moves from me to Lena and back again, this isn’t a good time, I reply.

“It’s urgent.”

Lena doesn’t move. She stays exactly where she is. Say it, she says calmly. Serena’s smile tightens. “There’s been another leak.”

My pulse slows instantly.

“What kind?” I ask. “Internal board correspondence. Dated last year. It’s circulating online.” Lena’s eyes narrow.

“Which correspondence?” she asks.

Serena turns to her. “The thread discussing whether firing you would stabilize investor confidence.” That means the private emails are out. The ones where board members debated sacrificing Lena publicly. That information should be locked inside the highest-encrypted vault. “Where was it posted?” I ask. Anonymous source. But the link was shared first through Daniel’s network.

Daniel.

Lena goes very still.

“That’s impossible,” she says.

Serena shrugs lightly. “Is it?” I look at Lena carefully. There’s something in her expression that doesn’t match surprise. You spoke to Daniel recently? I ask.

Her silence answers me.

“When?” I press, before I signed the contract, she says evenly.

“About what?”

“About survival.” That is not reassuring.

Serena folds her arms. “If Daniel is involved, this isn’t just about last year anymore.”

She’s right.

Daniel Reyes does nothing without purpose.

I move to my desk and pull up the leak on my screen. The email thread is authentic. Unedited. Brutal. One line stands out immediately. We need a name. Someone disposable.

That line was written by my father.

Lena steps closer to see the screen. Her jaw tightens, but she doesn’t look at me. “You knew,” she says softly.

“I suspected.”

“You suspected your own father approved of using me.”

“Yes.”

“And you still signed the papers.” I meet her gaze directly.

“Yes.”

Serena watches us like this is entertainment. “This is bigger than we thought,” she says. “If those emails are public, investors will panic.” Not if we control the narrative, I reply.

Lena looks at the timestamp on the leak.

“It was scheduled,” she says, what do you mean?” I ask, she zooms into the metadata. “The post wasn’t uploaded in real time. It was pre-programmed to release tonight.” My mind moves quickly.

“Timed with the dinner,” I say.

“Yes.”

Which means whoever did this wanted maximum impact. Serena’s expression changes slightly. “That’s impossible,” she says too quickly.

Lena notices.

“You seem very certain,” she replies calmly. Serena recovers. “Because only someone with deep system access could schedule that.”

Exactly.

I turn to Lena. “Did you?” She doesn’t hesitate.

“No.”

“Daniel?” Serena asks.

Lena’s eyes flick toward me. Just briefly. There’s something she isn’t saying. My phone vibrates. Private encrypted line. Only three people have that number.

I answer.

Silence at first.

Then a distorted voice.

“You should have buried it when you had the chance.”

The line goes dead, and I look at Lena slowly. She saw my reaction. “What was that?” she asks. “Proof,” I say quietly, “that someone knows we’re digging.”

Her expression doesn’t show fear; it shows something worse.

Recognition.

Before I can ask what she’s thinking, her phone lights up on the desk, unknown number, she hesitates, then answers.

I watch her face change. All the control she’s held cracks tonight for half a second. “What do you mean she collapsed?” she whispers.

My blood runs cold.

She listens, silent, frozen, then she lowers the phone slowly. “That was the hospital,” she says. Her voice is steady.

Too steady.

“My mother was just admitted.” She looks at me directly. And the caller said someone already paid the emergency deposit.

Silence fills the room. I didn’t authorize that, which means only one person could have, my father. Or, Lena’s eyes sharpen as the realization hits her.

“They said,” she continues slowly, “the payment came from Vale Holdings.”

She steps closer to me.

“You told me you didn’t inform your father about reopening the case.”

“I didn’t.”

Her voice drops. “Then why does he suddenly know my mother needs saving?”