The corridor outside the boardroom was silent, too silent.
Sierra stood still, fingers curled tightly around the edge of the glass wall. Inside, the executives were still arguing—voices muffled, distorted by the thick insulation—but she no longer needed to hear the details. She already knew the result.
They had chosen profit over truth.
Again.
Leon walked out first. The moment he saw Sierra, his expression changed—not surprise, but resignation.
"You heard," he said quietly.
"I didn't need to." Her voice was steady, unnervingly calm. "I saw it on your face."
He hesitated. "This isn't over. We can still—"
"No, Leon." She met his gaze directly. "It is over. For you, maybe this was a strategic retreat. For me, this was a warning."
His brow tightened. "A warning for what?"
"That the people sitting at that table will never be on my side. Not really."
Leon exhaled slowly. "You knew that when you walked in."
"Yes," she replied. "But I needed to see which of you would stand up."
A silence fell between them—thick with unspoken accusations.
"Did I fail your test?" he asked.
Sierra didn't answer right away. Instead, she turned and walked toward the elevator. Leon followed.
Inside the narrow mirrored space, their reflections stood side by side—two versions of composure barely holding together.
"You didn't fail," she finally said. "But you didn't pass either."
The elevator descended.
Outside the building, rain had begun to fall—light at first, then heavier, blurring the city lights into streaks of red and gold.
Sierra didn't open her umbrella.
She welcomed the cold.
Her phone vibrated.
Jenna:You need to come now. Something's wrong with Vivian.
Her breath caught.
At the café near the river, the lights were dim, the usual warmth replaced by tension. Vivian sat in the corner booth, hood pulled low, hands trembling around a cup she hadn't touched.
The moment Sierra saw her, she knew.
"What happened?" Sierra asked softly.
Vivian looked up. Her eyes were red—not from crying alone, but from fear.
"They found the files," she whispered. "Not all of them. But enough."
Sierra's pulse spiked. "Who?"
"The Lin Group's internal audit team. Officially. Unofficially…" She swallowed. "Someone tipped them off."
The word hung in the air.
Betrayal.
Jenna stiffened. "Are you saying someone on our side—"
"I don't know," Vivian said quickly. "But they're watching me now. My emails, my accounts, even my building security logs. I barely got out."
Sierra closed her eyes briefly.
Too fast.
They had moved too fast.
She had underestimated how quickly the old system would bite back.
Later that night, Sierra stood alone on her balcony. The rain had stopped, leaving the city drenched and glistening. Neon reflections shimmered across wet concrete like broken promises.
Her phone lit up with one final message.
Unknown Number:You should have stayed invisible.
Her fingers froze.
Slowly, she typed back:
Sierra:You should have killed me when you had the chance.
The message showed as read.
No reply came.
But she knew.
The game had shifted.
And this time, there would be no safe middle ground.