Dominic

4

_________

The boardroom hums with a tension that sets my teeth on edge. Around the table, my senior executives sit stiff and silent, their polished expressions betraying little. But the way their eyes dart, the way they shift in their seats like schoolchildren awaiting discipline—it disgusts me. Cowards.

I clear my throat, the sound slicing through the silence like a scalpel. “Let’s address the elephant in the room,” I say, my voice cold, deliberate. “Another leak. Another loss. And yet, none of you seem particularly eager to explain how this keeps happening.”

The room holds its breath. My gaze locks on Richard Maddox, my CFO. He flinches under the weight of it, his jaw tightening as he finally speaks.

“With all due respect, , our internal security teams are working around the clock,” he begins, his tone clipped, defensive. “This isn’t a simple breach. Whoever’s behind this is highly coordinated and operating at a level beyond what most corporations deal with.”

“And yet, here we are,” I reply, leaning back in my chair, my voice sharp with disdain. “Months into this debacle, with no progress and no accountability. Are you suggesting that a handful of hackers are more resourceful than the people I pay millions to protect my company?”

Richard shifts uncomfortably, his hands fidgeting on the polished surface of the table. Beside him, Elaine Norwood, my head of operations, steps in to shield him.

“,” she says cautiously, “I think it’s time we consider the possibility of an insider threat.”

Her words hang heavy in the room, sharper for being said aloud. The thought has been circling my mind for weeks, but hearing it voiced is like driving a knife deeper into an open wound. An insider would explain the precision of the attacks, the access to sensitive data. But it would also mean that someone here—someone I’ve trusted—is working against me.

“An insider threat,” I repeat, keeping my tone even as my gaze sweeps the table, lingering on each face just long enough to make them squirm. “Do you have someone in mind, Elaine?”

Her eyes flicker to Richard for a fraction of a second before darting down to the table. “Not specifically,” she hedges, her voice careful. “But it’s not unreasonable to assume the breaches are coming from someone with high-level access.”

A non-answer. It grates, but I keep my composure. “Let’s assume you’re right. What’s your solution?”

Elaine hesitates, glancing at Richard for backup. When none comes, she finally offers, “We could bring in an external security consultant. Someone unbiased who can investigate without ties to the company.”

I shake my head, my voice slicing through the air. “And risk exposing even more of our internal workings to outsiders? That’s not a solution—it’s an invitation for disaster.”

Richard bristles, frustration bleeding into his tone. “Then what do you suggest, ? Because at this rate, we’re hemorrhaging resources and credibility. Investors are asking questions, and they won’t settle for more platitudes.”

Silence stretches across the room, long enough to make them sweat. I hold Richard’s gaze, then Elaine’s, then each of the others. Their frustration is palpable, but I don’t care. I didn’t build Kane Enterprises by indulging weakness.

“If any of you doubt my ability to handle this, feel free to step down,” I say, my voice cutting and unwavering. “Until then, I expect every one of you to do your jobs. That means finding the leak and fixing it. No excuses.”

Richard’s jaw tightens, but he doesn’t respond. Elaine nods stiffly, her shoulders tense. The rest remain silent, avoiding my gaze. Good. I don’t need their approval—I need results.

After the meeting, I retreat to my office. The tension from the boardroom lingers like smoke, bitter and suffocating. The possibility of an insider betrayal isn’t just plausible—it’s likely. But figuring out who it is will mean digging into the lives of people I rely on to keep this company running. And the deeper I dig, the more I risk fracturing the foundation of Kane Enterprises.

My thoughts drift to Eva Stone. The journalist. The wildcard.

Her questions at the gala were too precise, her knowledge of the sabotage too detailed. Someone fed her those details—someone close. And then there’s Caldwell, the former employee she interviewed. The timing of her investigation feels too much like a calculated move to be coincidence.

I pull up the file Adrian compiled on her. Divorcee. Freelance journalist. Reputation for tackling stories no one else dares to touch, even when it means stepping on powerful toes. She’s relentless, I’ll give her that. But persistence can be dangerous, especially when it drags her into waters she doesn’t understand.

My fingers hover over the keyboard as I consider my next move. Eva’s digging into something far bigger than she realizes. Something that could get her killed. And if she’s connected to these leaks—intentionally or not—I need to know before it spirals further out of control.

Later that evening, I park my car a few blocks from her apartment building. It’s modest, tucked away on a quiet street that speaks more of budget-conscious practicality than reckless ambition. The lights in her window glow softly against the evening sky.

Guilt flickers in my chest. What I’m about to do feels invasive. But I push the thought aside. This isn’t about her—it’s about protecting everything I’ve built.

She leaves the building a little after seven, dressed casually in a leather jacket and jeans, her bag slung over one shoulder. I watch from the shadows as she hails a cab, then follow at a safe distance, blending into the stream of evening traffic.

Her cab weaves through the city, finally stopping in front of a nondescript building downtown. I park a block away and watch as she disappears inside.

Minutes tick by. My patience wears thin as I wait for her to reappear. Through the frosted windows, I catch glimpses of her silhouette. She’s leaning forward, her gestures animated, her posture stiff. Questioning someone. Pushing for answers.

When she steps back onto the street, her movements are brisk, her shoulders tense. Whatever happened inside left her rattled. She hails another cab, and I follow once more.

This time, the cab stops outside an upscale apartment complex. I park nearby, my instincts on high alert. She disappears inside, the doorman letting her through without a second glance.

For the first time tonight, I hesitate. Following her into a building like this isn’t just crossing a line—it’s erasing it. But something about her urgency keeps me rooted in place. She’s chasing something.

When she finally emerges, it’s nearly midnight. Her expression is tight, her stride purposeful. She’s holding something in her bag, clutching it like it holds the answers to everything she’s been searching for.

As her cab disappears into the night, I linger in my car, my thoughts racing.

Back in my office, I pour a glass of whiskey and settle behind my desk. The surveillance footage from earlier loads on my screen.

The grainy feed shows Eva sitting at a corner table, leaning forward as she speaks to a man whose face is partially obscured. My stomach tightens. I recognize him instantly: James Heller.

Heller’s exit from Kane Enterprises was messy—paranoia, unfounded accusations, a trail of burned bridges. I zoom in, watching as he hands something to Eva—a folder. She flips through its contents, her expression sharpening with each page.

I pause the video. Whatever Heller gave her, it’s significant.

The email lands in my inbox at 2:00 a.m., its subject line chilling in its simplicity:

“Your empire is crumbling, Kane. Time to watch it burn.”

Attached is a single image: Eva leaving the bar.

The message is clear. They’re not just watching me—they’re watching her, too.

I set the glass down, my resolve hardening. Eva Stone may be reckless, but she’s also smart. Resourceful. And if I can use that to my advantage, she might be the key to exposing who’s behind this.

But first, I need to keep her alive.

The photograph in the email blurs slightly as I stare at it, the edges of the image glowing faintly on my screen. Eva is walking out of the bar, her posture rigid, the bag on her shoulder slung like armor. Whoever took this picture was close enough to see the determination in her stride. Too close.

I set the glass of whiskey down, its weight suddenly clumsy in my hand. The familiar bitterness of the drink doesn’t cut through the tension coiling tighter in my chest. This isn’t just a game of corporate sabotage anymore. This is calculated. Precise. Personal.

My phone buzzes again, the screen lighting up with Adrian’s name.

“What now?” I ask, my voice clipped.

“There’s more,” Adrian says, his tone grim. “The email you just received—its origin was masked, routed through multiple layers of encryption. But we managed to trace one of the relay points to a server in Eastern Europe. The same server was flagged in a previous attack on our Dallas data center.”

My jaw tightens. “So, whoever sent this is connected to the breaches.”

“Likely,” Adrian confirms. “But there’s another complication. We’ve intercepted chatter suggesting Eva Stone is being watched by more than just us. Someone’s flagged her as a person of interest.”

“Who?” I demand.

“We’re still working on that. But the pattern matches what we’ve seen before—this isn’t just about you or Kane Enterprises. They’re using her to get closer to us.”

The thought churns in my gut. Eva isn’t just chasing a story; she’s been pulled into something far bigger, a pawn in a game she doesn’t even know she’s playing.

“Double her surveillance,” I say after a moment, my tone steel. “I want every move she makes monitored. If anyone gets too close to her, I want to know before they breathe in her direction.”

“Understood,” Adrian replies. “And what about the email?”

“Send me the complete analysis by morning,” I order, ending the call.

The office is silent except for the faint hum of the city outside, the lights of skyscrapers casting fragmented reflections across the glass walls. Normally, this view centers me, a reminder of what I’ve built. But tonight, it feels distant. Cold.

Eva’s face lingers in my thoughts, her expression as she pored over the folder from Heller, the way she clutched her bag like it held something priceless. She’s close to something—something she doesn’t understand.

And someone else knows it.

I return to my laptop, the email glaring back at me like a challenge. “Your empire is crumbling, Kane. Time to watch it burn.”

Whoever sent this knows I’m watching her, knows she’s integral to unraveling the chaos surrounding Kane Enterprises. They’re goading me, using her as bait to draw me out.

But they’ve underestimated me.

I replay the surveillance footage from earlier, zeroing in on Heller. His body language is guarded, his shoulders hunched like he’s bracing for a blow. Whatever he gave Eva wasn’t just information—it was a lifeline. He knows he’s in too deep, and now he’s dragged her into his mess.

I pause the video on Heller’s face, a flicker of recognition stirring in the back of my mind. There’s something familiar about the way he carries himself, the nervous glances he casts over his shoulder.

My phone buzzes again, and Adrian’s voice comes through the line without preamble.

“We’ve just confirmed Heller’s movements,” he says. “After meeting with Eva, he disappeared. His phone went offline, and his apartment is empty.”

“Empty?”

“As if he never lived there,” Adrian explains. “Cleaned out. No trace left behind.”

The knot in my stomach tightens. Heller’s disappearance wasn’t voluntary.

“They got to him,” I say, the words sharp and cold.

“Possibly,” Adrian agrees. “Or he knew they were coming and ran.”

Neither scenario bodes well. If Heller ran, it means he was scared enough to abandon everything. If they got to him, it means whoever’s behind this is cleaning up loose ends.

“Keep digging,” I say, my voice low. “Find him, dead or alive.”

The weight of the night presses heavier as the hours tick by. The pieces are aligning, but the picture they form is jagged, incomplete. Someone is pulling strings from the shadows, orchestrating this chaos with a precision that’s both infuriating and dangerous.

And Eva is caught in the middle of it.

My chest tightens at the thought of her being used, manipulated by forces she can’t even see. It would be so easy to walk away, to let her face the consequences of her curiosity. But the idea leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.

I pour another glass of whiskey, the amber liquid catching the glow of the city lights. I’ve built my life on control, on knowing every angle, every threat. But Eva Stone is an unknown variable, one I can’t predict or contain.

And that makes her dangerous.

Dangerous to herself. Dangerous to me.

The clock on my desk reads 3:14 a.m. when I finally rise, the weight of the night coiled tight in my shoulders. My reflection stares back at me in the glass, sharp and unyielding.

I’ve faced threats before—competitors, saboteurs, even governments. But this is different. The stakes aren’t just corporate. They’re personal.

As I shut down my laptop, one thought anchors me: If I don’t protect Eva, she won’t survive this.

And I’m not sure I can live with that.