The moment the security alert flashed across Leo's screen, the air in the control room snapped taut, the tension almost audible—a wire stretched to breaking. His fingers flew across the keyboard, blue light flickering off his glasses as his jaw tightened, each keystroke sharp, rhythmic, like a drummer beating out a warning. "We've got a breach," he muttered into the mic, voice sharp as a blade cutting through velvet. "Control room, west wing. Pull up camera feeds, now." His breath hitched for a moment as the footage loaded, but his hands stayed steady.
Lottie's earpiece crackled softly, the calm cadence of her breath steady even as adrenaline coiled in her veins like a live wire. She stood near the executives, the polished wood table cool and unyielding beneath her fingertips, the surface gleaming under the conference lights, almost as if it mirrored the steel threaded through her spine. She could feel the faintest quiver of tension under her skin, a thrum that matched the rapid beat of her heart, though her expression remained an impeccable mask of poise. Across the room, Evelyn was a portrait of composed radiance, all gleaming smiles and immaculate posture, her fingers brushing absently against the jeweled clasp of her clutch, clapping lightly as if nothing in the world could shake her. But Lottie caught the flicker—that small, sharp glance Evelyn darted toward the side doors, the barest flick of unease in her otherwise flawless facade. A heartbeat too long. A heartbeat that gave her away.
Adrian stepped forward, the faint scent of cedar and clean linen brushing against Lottie's senses, a subtle anchor amid the electric tension curling in the air. His presence was a quiet wall of strength beside her, broad shoulders cutting a sharp silhouette under the tailored cut of his jacket. "What's happening?" he murmured low, voice pitched for her ears alone, his eyes darting between Lottie's composed face and the restless panel of executives, whose murmured voices wove through the room like a current of brittle anticipation.
"Trouble," Lottie murmured back, her lips barely moving, a faint, almost imperceptible smile curving at the corner of her mouth. Her fingers tightened infinitesimally on the folder in her hands, the pristine edges biting sweetly into her skin. "But not ours."
In the surveillance room, Leo exhaled sharply, the sound misting faintly against the cool air. "There. Camera three." On the screen, Evelyn's mole crouched low near the control panel, fingers moving with desperate precision, shoulders hunched in a telltale curve of tension. The fine tremble of panic was visible even through the grainy feed—wires slipped from their sleeve, the flick of a wrist, the sharp snap of a clip biting into metal. But Leo was faster. His hands flew over the keyboard with blistering speed, a wolfish grin tugging at his lips as he hit the override. The soft chime that sounded through the executive suite was a delicate crystal note, slicing through the murmured voices like a blade through silk.
Lottie heard it—the crystalline chime cutting through the charged air, the faintest echo ringing in her earpiece. Across the room, Evelyn froze. Just for a second. Just long enough for Lottie to see it: the subtle hitch in her breath, the stiffening of her shoulders, the almost imperceptible panic flashing in her eyes before her mask slid neatly back into place.
Adrian's jaw clenched, the muscle ticking once at the corner, as he caught the same flicker of panic in Evelyn's expression. "Security," he called sharply, voice slicing through the room like a whipcrack. "West wing, now."
The executives turned, startled murmurs rippling like a breeze through tall grass, sharp whispers slicing the air as they craned their necks to see. Pens paused mid-scratch over leather notebooks; the tension in the room thickened, heavy as storm clouds gathering just before the first crack of thunder. Mason, half-hidden near the corner, raised a brow, his mouth curving into a faint smirk as he slipped his phone to his ear. His voice, when it came, was a low, lethal thread. "Containment. Quiet and clean. No leaks."
Within seconds, guards swept in, their footfalls muffled but swift, hands deft as they closed in on the mole. The air snapped with the quiet rustle of suits and the soft, unmistakable click of a comm being disabled. The mole was yanked to their feet, wide-eyed, breath stuttering in sharp little bursts. "I—I was just checking the connection—" the saboteur stammered, voice thin and cracking under the weight of so many eyes.
"Save it," one of the guards barked, twisting the earpiece from their collar. The sound of the click was oddly loud in the breathless hush. Evelyn's gaze darted, sharp as a blade, between the scene unfolding and the stiffening executives, her applause faltering mid-pat, the delicate smile frozen at the corners of her mouth. Her fingers curled around her clutch, the knuckles paling under the tension, and for a moment—just a heartbeat—her polished mask slipped, enough for Lottie to see the raw edge of fury flashing beneath.
Lottie turned, slow and measured, every movement deliberate, the faint rustle of her sleeve whispering against the silence. Her gaze locked on Evelyn's across the room, calm, composed—a sea of still water hiding the undertow below. "Smooth event," she murmured, voice soft but carrying just enough to drift over the murmurs. "For the most part."
Evelyn's lips trembled, the muscles around her mouth tightening, but her eyes, sharp and glossy, betrayed the flicker of panic—flickering fast behind the glassy calm. The room swam with sound—the low rustle of shifting papers, the sharp inhale of breath, the soft thump of footsteps as security escorted the mole out, a ripple of controlled chaos spreading outward.
Amy burst through the doors then, tablet hugged tight to her chest, cheeks flushed a bright, triumphant pink. "It's all over social already," she whispered breathlessly to Lottie, eyes shining as if lit from within. "They're eating it up—the 'sabotage,' the way you handled it—everything." Her hands trembled slightly, whether from adrenaline or excitement, Lottie couldn't tell, but she reached out instinctively, pressing a steadying hand to Amy's arm.
Mason moved in next, his voice low and smooth, the faintest edge of amusement curling under his words. "Private huddle, conference room three. Executives want to lock this down fast, and they want you there." His fingers brushed briefly against Lottie's elbow, the pressure a subtle nudge, grounding amid the dizzying spin of victory.
Leo's voice crackled softly in Lottie's ear, warm with quiet satisfaction. "I'm sending the footage to the media team. Evelyn's camp is in full spin mode, but they're already late to the party."
Across the room, Evelyn's PR manager jabbed at their phone, face pale, lips pressed into a thin line. Evelyn herself stood unnaturally still, a porcelain figure poised on the brink of shattering. Then, in one swift movement, she turned, heels striking the marble floor with sharp, precise clicks, each step a ticking countdown.
Lottie's fingers tightened around the folder, the crisp edges cutting sweet crescents into her palm. She could feel the thrum of her pulse in her throat, a quiet drumbeat beneath her skin, but her spine straightened, chin lifting in quiet defiance. She pivoted, eyes flicking briefly to Adrian. "Let's go."
As they slipped through the back corridor, the air tasted sharp, metallic, tinged with the faint hum of electricity from the overhead lights. Amy hovered close, her breath coming in short, excited bursts, the tablet clutched so tight her knuckles were nearly white. "You were incredible," Amy whispered, her voice a thin thread of awe, her eyes wide and shining. "They didn't even see it coming."
"Neither did Evelyn," Lottie murmured, her lips curving faintly, the taste of adrenaline sharp and sweet on her tongue. Beneath the triumph, though, flickered the faint pulse of caution—a quiet voice at the back of her mind that never quite let her forget: this wasn't the end.
In the control room, Leo leaned back, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth as he stretched his arms over his head. "Mole's gone. Footage secured. Executives are practically tripping over themselves trying to figure out how to frame this without making Evelyn look worse than she already does." His voice was edged with dry amusement, but Lottie caught the faint undertone of warning threading through.
Mason's phone buzzed softly with a new alert. He lifted it, brow arching, his mouth curving in a knowing smile as he murmured to Lottie, "The board's watching this live. Some of them are already calling you the heir apparent."
Adrian shot her a sidelong glance, his lips quirking in a rare, almost boyish smile, a flicker of something soft and unguarded lighting his sharp features. "Not bad, Hayes. Not bad at all."
But Lottie's pulse stayed steady, her thoughts already spiraling a few moves ahead. She could still feel Evelyn's stare across the room—that jagged, cutting look, the one that said this wasn't over, not by a long shot.
The press cluster buzzed like a hive outside the building, cameras flashing in rapid succession as Amy nudged the door open just a crack, peeking out with a gleeful grin. "They're asking if you'll make a statement."
"Soon," Lottie murmured, eyes flicking to the skyline beyond, where the sun dipped low, casting the city in molten gold. The air smelled faintly of rain on concrete and the faint perfume of magnolia drifting through the lobby vents. She smiled faintly, the cool bite of the metal doorframe grounding her as she brushed her fingers along it, steadying the humming energy under her skin.
Inside, Evelyn paced in her private suite, the mirror before her reflecting a face no longer quite flawless. "Fix it," she hissed into her phone, her voice sharp enough to draw blood. "Do you hear me? I don't care what it costs—fix it!" Her hand shot out, slamming into the edge of the vanity with a sharp crack, the mirror shuddering under the force. Her chest rose and fell in sharp, uneven bursts as she backed away, nails biting crescent moons into her palms. For a moment—just a flicker—her foresight sparked behind her eyes, the jittering, blurred image of Lottie standing in front of the boardroom, sunlight turning her hair to gold, executives nodding, smiling, leaning forward as if drawn to her gravity.
"No," Evelyn breathed, a raw edge slipping into her voice, a note of something almost feral. "Not yet."
Downstairs, Lottie paused at the elevator, her phone buzzing softly in her pocket. She drew it out with a flick of her wrist, thumb brushing over the screen to reveal Mason's message: "Tomorrow, we name the winner." A slow smile curved her lips, a flicker of steel glinting behind her calm gaze. The elevator doors slid open with a soft metallic sigh, cool air whispering across her skin as she stepped inside.
The city stretched beyond the glass walls, alive with restless light, the hum of engines and distant laughter rising up to meet the coming night. And as Lottie straightened her spine, the faint ghost of a laugh brushing her lips, the doors slid shut behind her, sealing the moment like the quiet closing of a chapter—not an ending, but the edge of something sharper, waiting just beyond.