I looked at the opaque glass walls.
The executives who had been waiting outside were gone.
A silent alarm symbol pulsed on Dante’s laptop, the only visible sign that anything had changed beyond the room.
“Why is Vale after that drive?” I asked.
Dante placed it on the desk but kept two fingers over it.
“It contains an encrypted copy of an internal audit.”
“What kind of audit?”
“The kind that proves one of my vice chairmen used company contractors to hide bribes, stolen funds, and payments to Adrian Vale.”
I thought of the sealed board packets I had prepared during the previous month.
Dante had given me handwritten delivery instructions and made me record every person who touched them.
“You suspected someone on the board.”
“For six months.”
“And you let me handle the records.”
“I trusted you.”
The answer came too quickly to be calculated.
I folded my arms to stop my hands from shaking.
“Vale thinks I can get the drive because I’m your assistant.”
“He thinks you are the only person I trust enough to keep close.”
The room became painfully quiet.
Dante looked away first.
I opened the surveillance file again.
Beneath the photographs of my sister were copies of building-access logs.
My employee number appeared beside entries made at 2:13 a.m., 3:41 a.m., and 4:06 a.m.
on nights when I had been asleep at home.
Someone had duplicated my credentials and entered the restricted archive under my name.
If the audit disappeared, I would look responsible.
If the scheme became public before Dante could prove the breach, I would be accused of helping steal it.
Vale was not merely using my sister to control me.
He was building a version of events in which I became the traitor.
“Who had access to my credential file?” I asked.
“Human resources, executive security, and one board-level administrator.”
“Your vice chairman.”
Dante nodded.
The office phone rang again.
This time Dante did not stop me.
I pressed the speaker button.
Vale spoke without greeting.
“You have nine minutes now.”
“My sister is safe,” I said.
A pause followed.
It lasted less than a second, but I heard it.
He had expected panic, not certainty.
“You should be careful what Moretti tells you.”
“I spoke to her.”
“Then you know I can reach her whenever I choose.”
Dante’s expression hardened, but he remained silent.
“What do you want?” I asked.
“The black drive from his desk.”
“You expect me to walk out carrying it?”
“I expect you to understand what happens when you disappoint me.”
A metallic chime sounded faintly behind his voice.
Two notes, followed by a mechanical hum.
I knew that sound.
For three years, I had heard it during late nights when I rode the executive freight elevator between the archive floor and Dante’s office.
Vale was not calling from a car near my sister.
He was somewhere inside Moretti Holdings.
