The phone buzzed insistently in her bag as Isabelle was finishing up the decoy document. She sighed, swiping it open.
"Hello?"
"Isabelle! It's Mum… oh, I don't know what happened…" Her mother's voice trembled, shaky and uneven. "Somebody… they've taken my handbag. The whole lot… my purse, my keys, everything…"
Isabelle felt the familiar tightening in her chest. "Calm down, Mum. Where are you?"
"I… I'm still near the Underground… I just want to get home. I'm so shaken, Isabelle… It's a good job I keep my phone in my pocket..."
The clock on her desk read 2:42 p.m. Only eighteen minutes until her mother usually left to collect Becca and Luke. She ran through the mental calculations: pick up Mum, calm her down, get the kids — she'd be lucky if she made it in time.
"Don't worry, Mum. I'm coming to you right now. Stay put, stay safe."
She hung up, hands trembling ever so slightly. Her perfectly curated workday had just imploded.
She grabbed her coat, feeling the drizzle of London settle on her shoulders. The office, usually a haven of structure and control, suddenly felt like a cage. Isabelle hated that she had to abandon her plans, even briefly, but family came first. Always.
As she hurried toward the lift, she passed Robert's office. He was leaning back in his chair, reviewing some papers. His eyes flicked toward her, but there was no expression. Calm, impassive, almost deliberately unreadable.
"Going out, Isabelle?"
She hesitated. "…I'm having to leave a bit early. Family emergency."
"Mm." He nodded once, eyes already back on the papers. No trace of concern, no question, no probing. Just the faint, quiet detachment he always carried.
Isabelle's chest tightened, a small flicker of irritation burning alongside the guilt she always felt when personal matters collided with work.
On her way past Sienna, the younger woman looked up from her desk with a sly, knowing smile.
"Oh, leaving early again, Isabelle?" she drawled, the cruelty in her tone barely hidden. "It must be so hard, trying to juggle work and being a mum. I do hope Richard doesn't mind…"
Isabelle's jaw tightened. She opened her mouth to reply, but caught herself. Words would only escalate the tension here, and she couldn't afford unnecessary conflict today. Instead, she offered a curt, polite nod and kept walking.
Inside, her stomach twisted with a mixture of embarrassment and simmering anger. She had done everything to keep her home and work separate, to prove she could manage both worlds. Yet the world — the office, the colleagues, the city itself — seemed determined to make her feel inadequate.
The Underground wasn't as packed as usual. Isabelle still clutched her bag close, aware of the dangers around her. Her mother's trembling voice replayed in her mind. She had to calm Mum down, get her home, reassure her — and still maintain control of herself.
A sharp brush of contact against her side made her flinch, reflexively moving away. It was crowded, and she dismissed it quickly — travellimg on the London Underground was never gentle. But a small, nagging sense of violation lingered, unwelcome and persistent.
By the time she reached her mother, Isabelle found her sitting on a low bench, coat dishevelled, eyes wide and watery.
"Oh, Isabelle…" Mum said, flinching slightly when Isabelle knelt beside her. "I… I don't even know what I'd have done if you hadn't come so quickly…"
"It's okay, Mum. I'm here. We'll get you home safely," Isabelle said, forcing calm into her voice, though inside she was still buzzing with tension. She held her mother's trembling hands and helped her up.
Back at the office the next morning, Isabelle arrived early to pick up where she had left off, only to feel the sting of yesterday's disruptions still lingering. The decoy document was still in place, the pen camera positioned carefully among the others. But the psychological fatigue of juggling life and work left her a step slower than usual.
She barely had time to settle before Sienna appeared at her desk, leaning over with that same smug expression.
"Hope the family crisis wasn't too traumatic, Isabelle," she said, voice sweet but razor-sharp. "It's just… I do worry that being a working mum might… you know… make it harder to keep up. Some of us can't help but notice."
Isabelle forced a polite smile, heart thudding. Sienna's cruelty cut deeper than it should have, because it was laced with plausibility — and because it was directed at the part of her life she couldn't hide.
Across the office, Robert's glass door reflected his figure as he passed, walking by with papers in hand, head down. No glance toward her. No acknowledgment of yesterday's family chaos. Indifference. Pure, cold indifference.
Isabelle's chest tightened again. She wanted to be furious, wanted to confront him about his inaction, about the blank calm that always seemed to encase him. But she swallowed it. Anger could wait. For now, she had work to do.
Sitting back at her desk, Isabelle opened her computer and reviewed the motion logs from the pen camera. Nothing had moved overnight. But her mind was spinning. Could Robert really have been the saboteur? Or was it Sienna, taking advantage of yesterday's chaos to unsettle her?
She didn't know. And she knew she couldn't ignore either possibility.
Her hand hovered over the decoy document. Today, she would have to observe carefully — every swipe, every glance, every movement near her desk. Patience, Isabelle reminded herself. Methodical patience.
But as Sienna walked past again, glancing at her with a faint, mocking smirk, Isabelle felt the fire ignite. She would catch whoever it was. And if they thought they could undermine her while she juggled work, children, and a mother in need… they were gravely mistaken.
The office settled into its morning rhythm. Phones rang, emails pinged, and Isabelle watched, calculated, waiting.
Somewhere in the quiet spaces between the deadlines and the bustle, she felt it: the tension, the unease, the silent shadow of someone watching her work.
And she knew, without a doubt, that someone was.
She only had to find them.