The next morning, I walked into the office feeling every eye on me. No one said a word, but I could feel it in the air—the unspoken question, the quiet suspicion that lingered after what happened to Ethan.
He wasn't there, of course. His desk was empty, the monitor off, the chair pushed in as though he'd never existed. A few sticky notes still clung to his screen—reminders, jokes, fragments of a life abruptly erased.
Claire stopped by with her coffee, her voice low. "They escorted him out last night."
"I know," I said softly.
She hesitated, watching me. "You believe he did it?"
I looked down at my keyboard, fingers still. "I believe he was in the wrong place at the wrong time."
She nodded slowly. "That's what scares me."
Before I could respond, Mara walked in. Her heels echoed across the tiles, sharp and deliberate. Her gaze passed over everyone, landing briefly on me before moving on. She smiled faintly, a predator acknowledging another.
"Selina," she said, stopping at my desk. "Adrian wants us in the conference room."
I followed her, silent. The others pretended to work, though I could feel their curiosity following me like a shadow.
Inside the conference room, Adrian stood by the glass window, hands clasped behind his back. He didn't turn when we entered. "Close the door."
Mara did so, then took the seat opposite me. Adrian finally faced us, his expression unreadable.
"I reviewed the data you sent me," he said, his tone neutral. "And I noticed something… off."
My heartbeat quickened. "Off?"
"Yes," he continued. "The timestamps don't line up. If Ethan's credentials were used during the intrusion, the system logs should show his workstation active at the same time. But they don't."
Mara frowned slightly, though I saw the flicker of irritation behind her calm face. "That's impossible. I double-checked the logs myself."
"I'm sure you did," Adrian said coolly. "That's why I'm asking both of you to verify again. Together."
The silence that followed was sharp enough to cut through steel. I nodded once. "Understood."
Mara smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. "Of course. I'll coordinate with Selina."
When we left the room, she leaned closer to me. "Looks like Adrian's not fully convinced," she said softly. "But don't worry. We'll make sure he is."
I met her gaze. "We?"
Her lips curved slightly. "You don't think I can do this alone, do you?"
I didn't answer. I didn't need to. We both knew this wasn't cooperation—it was surveillance.
The next few hours were a quiet war. We sat side by side, combing through code and timestamps. Mara's methods were efficient but predictable. She followed patterns, structured logic, visible paths. I thrived in chaos, bending logic to create noise.
Every time she narrowed in on something suspicious, I redirected her attention elsewhere—an old bug, a redundant file, a harmless error.
At one point, she leaned back, studying me. "You're good," she said finally. "Too good."
I smiled faintly. "You say that like it's a bad thing."
"Depends who you ask."
We worked in silence again. Outside the glass wall, I could see Adrian pacing in his cabin, speaking on the phone. His eyes lifted once, catching mine for the briefest second. It wasn't suspicion I saw there—it was something else. Curiosity, maybe even concern.
By the end of the day, Mara closed her laptop. "The data's clean. No discrepancies."
I nodded. "Then Ethan's still the primary suspect?"
"For now," she replied. "But if I find out you're hiding something…"
Her words hung unfinished, but I didn't need her to finish them.
That night, I didn't go straight home. I went to the riverside café Ethan used to frequent, the one where he said he thought best. It was quiet, nearly empty, and the scent of burnt coffee and rain clung to the air.
Rina joined me fifteen minutes later, her hoodie pulled up. "You look like you've been buried under secrets," she said.
"I have," I replied, staring at my untouched drink.
She sat across from me, lowering her voice. "You did what you had to. Framing Ethan was smart. It bought you time."
"It's not just about time anymore," I murmured. "Adrian's starting to see cracks. And Mara… she's not stopping. She's probing deeper, beyond company data."
Rina's brow furrowed. "You mean she's looking into you."
"Yes."
For a moment, the noise of the city outside felt distant. The café lights flickered slightly, the hum of conversation fading around us.
Rina leaned forward. "You can't let her connect you to the network. If she gets even a trace—"
"I know," I interrupted. "That's why I need to disappear from her system completely. She's too close."
Rina frowned. "And Adrian?"
I hesitated. "He's different. I think he knows more than he lets on. But he's not against me yet."
"You think you can trust him?"
"I don't know," I admitted. "But I might have to."
The words felt heavier than they should have. Trust wasn't part of the plan. It never was.
After Rina left, I stayed behind, staring at the city lights reflected in the window. For the first time in weeks, doubt crept into me. Maybe I'd gone too far. Maybe the line between protection and manipulation had already blurred beyond repair.
When I finally reached home, I opened my laptop again, ready to run a deep trace on Mara's movements. But as soon as I logged in, a message appeared on my screen:
You're good, Selina. But not invisible.
My breath caught. The text flickered once before disappearing. No sender, no timestamp, no trace.
Mara had found a way in.
I quickly shut down the system, my pulse racing. My reflection on the dark screen looked unfamiliar—colder, sharper, more dangerous than I remembered.
There was no room left for hesitation. I'd started this war in the dark, and now the darkness was fighting back.
I sat there for a long time, the city buzzing outside, my hands trembling slightly on the keyboard.
I had built a fortress of code, lies, and manipulation. But Mara had just found the first crack.
And for the first time, I wasn't sure if I could fix it before everything collapsed.