Chapter 2 - The Exit Strategy
"Eliza."
Claire’s voice was barely a whisper when she dropped to her knees beside the desk, pulling me out into the dim light of the executive office. Her face was pale, her eyes wide with a terror I hadn't seen in anyone since the early days of corporate takeovers when ruthless competitors tried to crush Northgate before it had a name.
"He's insane, Claire," I breathed, clutching the folded document in my fist. "He’s setting me up for a federal white-collar crime. If the court sees my signature on this—"
"They won't," Claire interrupted, grabbing my forearm with surprising strength. "Not if we move right now. Travis left his desk terminal unlocked. He always does when Victor comes over to talk off-the-books."
I stared at her, my pulse pounding in my ears. "What are you talking about?"
"The original digital logs," Claire said, her voice rushing out in a nervous whisper. "The ones showing who actually generated that transfer request from the master finance server. Travis thinks he wiped the metadata, but he doesn't know how the network routing works. I do. I’ve backed up the server history onto an encrypted flash drive for the last three months."
She reached into her blazer pocket and pulled out a small, black USB drive, pressing it into my palm. The metal casing was still warm from her body heat.
"Why are you doing this, Claire?" I asked, looking down at the drive, then up into her eyes. "If Travis finds out you helped me, he won't just fire you. He’ll make sure you never work in commercial real estate again."
"Because I didn't spend six years working sixty-hour weeks watching Travis Fenwick build an empire on your back just to watch him frame the woman who taught him how to read a balance sheet," Claire said fiercely. "Now go. Put your cleaning cart back in the downstairs service closet, punch out, and get out of this building before Travis realizes he left his briefcase behind."
I nodded, sliding the drive and the forged document deep into the pocket of my gray cleaning uniform. "Thank you, Claire. If this goes sideways—"
"It won't go sideways," she whispered, giving my shoulder a sharp, reassuring squeeze. "Because for the first time in two years, Travis thinks you're playing his game. Let him keep thinking that."
May you like
I stood up, smoothed down my uniform, and slipped out of the executive office into the quiet, carpeted hallway, my mind racing as I mapped out every step of the night ahead.
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