The warning message burned into Layla's mind like a brand.
"Stop digging, or you'll regret it."
The words hadn't frightened her—they'd ignited something deeper. A defiant spark that refused to back down.
She sat on the edge of her bed, the envelope from Rhea still tucked inside her jacket like a talisman.
The USB drive glowed softly on her desk beside the laptop. Its contents had already revealed more than she'd ever expected—videos of clandestine meetings, unauthorized data transfers, and encrypted messages that pointed to something far more sinister than simple sabotage.
And yet, the threats kept coming.
Her eyes scanned the message again.
"Regret it."
Her lips curved into a slow, determined smile.
Let them try.
The clock read 5:43 a.m.
Outside her window, the city was only beginning to stir.
Inside, Layla's heart was fully awake.
Cole's texts buzzed on her phone.
"You okay?"
"We'll face it. Together."
"Call me when you're ready."
She stared at the messages before replying.
"Ready."
Within minutes, Cole arrived at her apartment, his eyes heavy with exhaustion but sharp with purpose.
He didn't ask how she was.
He didn't need to.
Instead, he grabbed a notepad and spread it between them.
"We'll break this down," he said.
Layla nodded, grateful for the structure.
Together, they mapped out their next steps:
1.Secure the logs – Identify anomalies and hidden entries that point to internal manipulation.
2.Cross-reference footage – Compare timestamps from different camera systems to catch tampering.
3.Track the insider – Follow who accessed the system at odd hours and see if it correlates with the scandal's outbreak.
4.Protect themselves – Encrypt communications and set traps to catch anyone trying to monitor them.
Cole glanced up.
"This is war," he said quietly.
Layla's eyes narrowed.
"Then we fight."
As the sun rose, Layla forced herself to eat breakfast.
Her hands shook slightly as she lifted the spoon.
"You have to eat," Cole insisted.
"I'm not starving," she muttered.
"You're starving your body because your mind won't stop racing."
His voice wasn't condescending.
It was concerned.
Layla sighed.
"Every time I close my eyes, I see shadows."
"Good," he replied without flinching.
She stared at him.
"Good?"
He nodded.
"Fear means you're alert. It means you care about the people you're trying to protect."
The logic wasn't comforting—but it anchored her.
She took another bite.
By late afternoon, the logs yielded their first breakthrough.
A hidden network entry, masked under maintenance credentials, had been used repeatedly during odd hours.
The technician flagged earlier by the logs—Mark Darrow—had access to more servers than his job description warranted.
A cross-reference showed something else: his security card had been duplicated.
The implications hit Layla like a punch.
"Someone inside is running this," she whispered.
Cole rubbed his temple.
"It's a ghost within the system."
"Why would someone do this?" she asked.
"To cover something bigger," he replied grimly. "Or to protect it."
Layla's stomach churned.
"Cover something? Protect something?" she repeated.
Cole's eyes darkened.
"There's more happening behind the scenes than we thought."
That evening, as they compiled the reports, Wallace barged into the lounge without knocking.
His expression was hard, unreadable.
"Ms. Hart, Mr. Hart," he barked, ignoring the pleasantries.
"Stop this investigation," he ordered, standing over the desk.
Layla's eyes flashed.
"Why?" she snapped.
"This is jeopardizing the entire production," he growled. "You're creating panic, attracting attention, and meddling in matters far beyond your role."
Cole stood, fists at his sides.
"We're trying to stop this before it destroys everything."
Wallace's eyes narrowed.
"You don't understand the full scope."
Layla took a step closer.
"Then tell us."
Wallace's jaw twitched, but his lips remained sealed.
After a tense pause, he scoffed.
"Some truths are better left buried."
Layla's eyes hardened.
"Truths buried by fear don't disappear," she hissed.
For a moment, Wallace's eyes flashed with something unreadable—anger, regret, or something deeper.
Without another word, he turned and walked out, leaving Layla and Cole exchanging a glance.
Cole's jaw tightened.
"We're on the right track," he murmured.
Layla's heart pounded—not from fear, but from adrenaline.
Later that night, Layla received another message from Rhea.
"You're making progress. Good. But time is running out. Trust sparingly. Not everyone is who they appear to be."
Attached was another file.
This time, it contained internal emails between senior staff discussing "damage control" and "narrative shifts."
Names like Damien and other executives were circled in red, alongside phrases like "diversion strategy" and "controlled leaks."
Layla's breath caught.
So this wasn't random sabotage.
This was orchestrated.
This was planned.
The weight of the revelations nearly crushed her.
She sat slumped against the wall, eyes hollow.
Cole sat beside her silently for several minutes before asking softly, "What's going on inside?"
"I'm scared I won't be enough," she whispered.
He turned to face her, his expression softening.
"You are enough," he said without hesitation.
She blinked at him, startled.
"You don't even know everything," she muttered.
"I don't need to," he replied quietly. "I know who you are. And that's what matters."
Her lips trembled.
Tears prickled at the corners of her eyes, but she blinked them back.
Instead, she straightened, drawing strength from his words.
"Then we fight," she said, breath steadying.
"We fight."
The next morning, Layla and Cole implemented their plan.
Mark Darrow's access card was flagged for review.
Encrypted communications were rerouted.
A bait file—coded with false information about a fake data transfer—was planted to lure whoever was watching.
Every log, every timestamp, every movement was recorded with precision.
Layla's hands didn't shake this time.
Her eyes were sharp, calculating.
Fear still flickered—but it no longer ruled her.
She was ready.
A Threat Close at Hand
As they reviewed the final logs before sealing the trap, Cole's phone buzzed.
A new message flashed on the screen:
"You're playing a dangerous game, Layla Hart. Walk away before you lose everything."
Layla's eyes hardened.
Cole saw the look and nodded.
"Good," he whispered.
The enemy wasn't bluffing.
The game had only just begun.