The city was sleeping, but I wasn't. Damian's message, "It wasn't me. Look closer," kept playing in my mind. It was a tiny, annoying whisper against all the loud cheers from the news. Liam had done an amazing job. The proof he showed on TV seemed so clear. But that small, nagging doubt just wouldn't leave me alone.
I stared at the blurry security camera picture on my tablet. It showed someone in the IT room, at a certain time and date, looking at my "Guardian Shield" plans. The face was blurry, yes, but the person looked like Damian's body, had Damian's hair, and was sitting in Damian's usual spot at his desk. My gut screamed that he had hurt me again. My mind, though, started to look closely at the picture.
Liam's tech skills were very good, but could he even miss something? I thought back to a talk I had with Damian weeks ago about the new security cameras. He'd said there was a blind spot, a small problem that sometimes made the picture fuzzy, especially when the internet was busy. I hadn't paid much attention then, just a small tech detail. Now, it felt like a cold burst of air.
I got out of bed and went to my office. The room felt different now. It wasn't a place for fighting anymore, but a quiet place for asking questions. I pulled up the original security video from our old files. It was a long shot, but I needed to see it myself, without the stress of being on live TV.
I quickly moved the video to the date and time of the leak. The video played, showing someone at Damian's desk, just like the blurry picture suggested. The person was bent over, typing. But then, for a split second, the picture flickered. A blur, just like Damian had described. It was hard to notice, a slight shimmer, almost like the air above a hot road. When the picture became clear again, the person was still there, but something felt… off.
I zoomed in, making the picture as big as I could. The face was still blurry, but the more I looked, the less it seemed like Damian. The hairline, the shape of the jaw – it wasn't quite right. It looked similar, yes, but it wasn't a perfect match. The person was wearing a dark hoodie, hood up, which covered most of their face. I hadn't really noticed this in the rush. Damian rarely wore hoodies at work.
A new, chilling idea formed in my mind. Someone knew Damian's habits, where he usually sat, even what he generally looked like. Someone had planned this very carefully. They had used a technical problem to their advantage, making the picture blurry enough to make the person look like Damian, without being a clear, definite match.
My stomach twisted. If this wasn't Damian, then who was it? And why frame him so perfectly? It wasn't just about stealing the data; it was about destroying Damian, about making sure I believed he was the traitor.
My phone buzzed again. Another message from Damian. This time, it was a picture. A clear, well-lit selfie. He was on a beach, with a palm tree in the background, a relaxed smile on his face. The picture had a date and time stamp from the exact day and time of the data leak. He had been on vacation, far away, at the very moment the video showed him in my IT room.
I gasped. The cold, empty feeling I'd had earlier was now replaced by a sudden wave of pure horror. I had just publicly ruined an innocent man. The "justice" I'd felt was a lie. The bitter victory was now truly bitter, like poison in my veins. Bianca hadn't just stolen my work; she had tricked me, used my past pain, and turned my own wish for justice into a weapon against someone else.
The truth had exploded, yes, but I was only just beginning to truly understand how much damage it had caused.