Author's Preface
[Cont.]
[Annie]
As James gathers his leather portfolio, he pauses at the corner of the glass table.
For a second, the sharp, clinical manner of Senior Counsel falls away.
He doesn't say anything grand, but as he adjusts his files, his fingers tap a distinct rhythm against the glass—three fast beats, one slow.
It's the same silly signal he used to knock on my bedroom window when we were fifteen, back when life was as simple as homework and shared bus rides home.
I look up, catching his eyes.
There's a soft, familiar warmth in them that belongs entirely to the past, reminding me of the boy who used to slide half his dinner onto my plate without asking.
"Don't forget to eat lunch, Annie," James says softly, his voice dropping below his usual professional register. "You always freeze up when you're under stress."
A small ache tugs at my chest.
"I won't, Mr. Merren. Thanks."
He gives me a subtle, reassuring nod before stepping out into the corridor, the heavy door clicking softly shut behind him.
After he leaves, the silence in Consultation Room B feels suffocating.
I don't close my screen.
With less than fifteen minutes before Kane calls us back, I open the secondary diagnostic portal Kai set up for me months ago.
It was meant to track media leaks without waiting for IT, but Kai’s clearance lets me see more than I should.
I pull up the hardware signatures attached to the 11:14 AM data transfer—the exact moment our city council clearance file bypassed the firewall and reached Rein & Associates.
Three active tier-one devices were connected to the boardroom subnet during the meeting:
Node-01: Director Kane’s terminal.
Node-02: General Counsel’s encrypted pad.
Node-03: Kai’s operational tablet.
I check the transfer log again.
My pulse hammers against my ribs as I open the packet wrapper.
The transmission didn't just use a generic executive credential.
It was stamped with a specific authorization tag: EX-0-AUTH-SYS.
The cold reality settles in my stomach like lead.
Whoever pushed that file didn't even try to hide behind a random external proxy.
They deliberately routed the payload through the EX-0 pathway—the elevated administrative channel assigned to Kai’s operational suite.
It’s a surgical setup.
The tag shows the transfer used Kai's clearance, but that doesn't mean he sent it himself.
If someone had mirrored his session while his tablet sat idle on the table, or accessed the pathway through an open node, the system would still log the activity under his credentials.
They'll see Kai's tag on Node-03 and blame him without looking further.
A notification pings at the top of my display—a short message from James.
Annie—
Lawson & Burke just received the court annexure. Paragraph 4 uses the exact wording from Kai’s confidential Project 21 briefs.
Someone leaked his files. Be careful. Don't trust anyone until you know who.
—J.M.
I clear the preview, wipe my portal cache, and lean back just as the glass door slides open.
Kai walks in, unbuttoning his jacket and dropping his tablet onto the table—right where James’s portfolio was sitting moments earlier.
My eyes land on the dark glass casing, recognizing the hardware ID from the log I've just closed.
"James is on his way out," Kai says, his voice flat and level.
"Kane signed off on your statement. We push the compliance angle at two."
"It's queued," I say, keeping my voice clipped as I flip my screen back to the press draft.
He steps closer, leaning over the back of my chair to read the text.
His familiar cologne fills the small space, comforting and suffocating at once.
I search his profile, looking for anything—a tense line around his jaw, a stray glance—that might betray whether he knows how deep this goes.
"You handled Merren well," he says quietly, his eyes meeting mine.
"He tried to corner us into a defensive play, and you held your ground."
"James was looking at our legal exposure," I reply.
"He pointed out that opposing counsel didn't guess the discrepancy. They had internal routing logs."
Kai doesn't even blink. "I know."
"You know?"
"They don't file a Section 14 injunction on a hunch, Annie," he says, his eyes narrowing slightly as he reads my face. "Someone handed them the anomaly. That’s why Lawson & Burke is auditing the archive servers."
He sounds certain, unaware of what I've found.
The EX-0 trail could lead straight back to his credentials.
I want to tell him, but if someone is using his access to cover their tracks, they may be watching for exactly that reaction.
For now, I keep my hands flat on my lap and say nothing.
"Kane wants us back in his office," he adds, picking up his tablet. "Before we go live."
Minutes later, we are standing in Kane’s corner suite.
Gray, muted daylight spills through the floor-to-ceiling glass, washing over the heavy mahogany desk.
General Counsel stands off to the side by the window, tablet tucked under his arm.
"Merren thinks we can contain the fallout if the statement holds," Kane begins, lacing his fingers together over his desk.
"But we have an internal problem. If the board finds out a clearance flaw was leaked from inside this building, heads are going to roll."
"The immediate priority is keeping our media windows intact," Kai says, his voice steady.
"We control the narrative publicly at two. Lawson & Burke handles the hearing on Friday."
General Counsel turns from the window, his tone edged with concern.
"Control is fine, Kai. But the nature of the leak is... specific. The petition references historical overrides used in the city council's clearance process, and only a handful of people in this firm had the authority to access them."
He pauses, letting the silence hang over the desk.
His eyes flick to Kai, then to Kane.
"The EX-0 tags," he says.
My fingers go still against the edge of my tablet.
I haven't mentioned the authorization tag to anyone.
James's message didn't include it, either.
So how does General Counsel know to look there?
"Those historical overrides are tied directly to your operational clearance, Kai," he continues. "If IT traces how that discrepancy was accessed, it will raise uncomfortable questions about who authorized those files in the first place."
General Counsel isn't accusing Kai outright, but he's making it easy to blame him.
Kai doesn't try to defend himself.
"If IT wants to run an audit, let them. My priority is getting Project 21 launched."
He sounds as though the matter is already settled. Across the desk, General Counsel gives no indication of whether he believes him.
"Of course," Kane says, his tone cautious, weighed down by corporate pragmatism.
"We all want the project to succeed, Kai. But if this turns into a corporate espionage investigation, SilverOak will have to protect its core executive board."
I look at Kai, then at General Counsel.
Kai trusts the audit to clear his name, while General Counsel seems to know exactly where it will lead.
And I still haven't told Kai what I found.
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