Chapter 8 - The Leak
Claire did not sleep while the fire department cleared the hotel.
She stood in the lobby as guests complained, staff counted heads, and an insurance adjuster photographed smoke stains. The records room had not burned. The fire had been a distraction, carefully set in a trash enclosure near the boiler access. Whoever entered knew exactly where the emergency cameras failed.
Roman reviewed the footage with the security team. Mara questioned the night staff. Sarah called the insurer. Claire returned to her office and found the door unlocked.
Nothing appeared disturbed except her desk calendar.
On the page for the current day, someone had drawn a small blue flower.
“It’s inside Northstar,” Roman said.
He stood behind her, holding a printed access report. The report showed that the hotel’s financial forecasts had been downloaded from Northstar’s secure portal fourteen minutes before Asterion sent its offer. The user account belonged to Northstar vice president Tomas Vale.
Claire looked at the name. “He’s on the board.”
“And he approved the capital schedule.”
“Could his account have been stolen?”
“Yes.”
“Do you believe it?”
Roman hesitated. “I believe someone wants us to believe it was him.”
They brought Tomas into a conference room. He arrived angry and accompanied by counsel.
“This is absurd,” he said. “My credentials are protected by two-factor authentication.”
“Your phone was cloned last week,” Roman said.
Tomas went pale. “How would you know that?”
“Because Northstar’s security vendor reported the incident to me.”
“You said it was contained.”
“The vendor said it was contained.”
Claire watched the exchange. Roman had known about the breach and had not told her. The omission was small compared with the danger, but it carried weight.
“When did you learn?” she asked.
“Yesterday.”
“Before or after the offer?”
“After.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I needed to verify the scope.”
“You needed to decide whether I could handle it.”
“I needed facts.”
Tomas’s attorney interrupted. “We are not conducting a personal inquiry.”
“No,” Claire said. “We’re conducting an ownership inquiry.”
They suspended Tomas from all Northstar systems. The next test was the hotel itself. Claire changed access permissions, required dual authorization for records, and ordered a full review of every employee’s digital activity.
The review revealed that someone in Claire’s own advisory company had opened the trust files two days before the fire. The user was Sarah Morgan.
Claire stared at the screen.
“That’s impossible,” she said.
Sarah sat across from her, exhausted. “I opened a folder, not the ledgers. I was looking for your mother’s foundation filings.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I didn’t want you to think I was digging through your family history.”
“Sarah, you are my family.”
“That doesn’t mean I get to read everything.”
The argument left Claire shaken. She had spent months asking everyone to be transparent while keeping her own fears private. Trust, she was learning, did not mean allowing people unlimited access. It meant defining the doors and believing people would tell her when they needed a key.
Roman found her on the roof after midnight.
“You’re angry with me,” he said.
“You withheld a security breach.”
“I withheld an unverified report.”
“You made the decision for me.”
“Yes.”
His directness disarmed her.
“Why?”
“Because the last time I told a board something before I had proof, they used the uncertainty to bury the truth.”
“That happened to you once. It doesn’t give you the right to manage everyone else’s risk.”
“No. It gives me a reason to be afraid.”
The admission hung between them.
Claire leaned against the parapet. “Fear isn’t a strategy.”
“It’s not supposed to be.”
“Then stop treating it like one.”
He looked at the city lights. “You think trust is a choice.”
“It is.”
“What if the choice is wrong?”
“Then you make another choice with better information.”
The next morning, the missing ledgers appeared in the hotel’s mailroom inside a courier envelope. They were damp, singed along the edges, and wrapped in a page torn from a Northstar internal report.
The report listed every employee who had received Morgan Grand profit-sharing options.
One name had been circled in red.
Mara Ellis.
The circle was not evidence. It was an invitation.
Claire refused to accept it. She called Mara to the office and showed her the page.
Mara’s expression did not change. “You think I stole them?”
“I think someone wants me to think you did.”
“That’s almost flattering.”
“Mara.”
Mara set down her coffee. “I found the hidden room because I remembered your mother. I found the storage unit because my auditor noticed the address. If I wanted the ledgers, I wouldn’t have brought you the key.”
Claire believed her. Not because Mara sounded offended, but because she sounded tired of proving the obvious.
That afternoon, Celia Rook sent a new offer, this time addressed to Mara.
May you like
The salary was double. The title was president of operations.
The deadline was forty-eight hours.
