Elara Quinn POV
Elara's finger froze above the keyboard.
"That's not right."
She leaned closer to the screen, her eyes scanning the numbers again. Her heart beat faster with each line she reread.
The total donations for the morning were correct. The afternoon too. But one small entry sat wrong. Just a little. A number that should not be there.
She refreshed the page.
It stayed.
Her mouth went dry.
Elara had worked with numbers long enough to trust her instincts. This was not a big mistake. It was small enough to hide. Small enough to be missed.
Small enough to matter.
She checked the date. Checked the account name. Checked the transfer note.
Nothing made sense.
Her hands trembled as she opened the activity log. The screen loaded slowly, like it was teasing her.
"There," she whispered.
A transfer had been moved, then moved back. Clean. Quiet. Almost smart.
Almost.
Elara pushed back from the desk and stood up. Her legs felt weak.
She had ignored too many strange things already. The open box. The flash drive. The questions. Vanessa's phone.
This was different.
This was real.
She grabbed her notebook and walked fast down the hall.
Marcus's office door was open.
He was on his phone, smiling.
Elara knocked anyway. "Marcus."
He looked up and ended the call. "Elara. Perfect timing."
"I need to talk to you," she said.
He gestured for her to come in. "What's wrong?"
She stepped inside and held up her notebook. "I found something odd in the donation records."
Marcus's face stayed calm. Too calm.
"Odd how?" he asked.
"There's a small transfer that doesn't match the log," Elara said. "It's not a system error. I've checked."
Marcus leaned back in his chair. "These systems glitch all the time."
"This didn't," Elara replied. "It moved money, Marcus."
He waved a hand. "Probably accounting syncing late."
Her chest tightened. "I don't think so."
Marcus stood and walked closer. His voice softened.
"Elara, you're tired," he said. "You work too much. You see problems where there aren't any."
She shook her head. "I know what I saw."
He smiled gently. "That's why you're so good at what you do."
That praise felt like a trap.
"I should report it," Elara said. "Just to be safe."
Marcus's smile thinned. "That won't be necessary."
She stiffened. "Why not?"
"Because it will scare people," he said. "And we can't afford panic this close to Christmas."
Elara hesitated. The word Christmas pressed on her chest.
"I'll handle it personally," Marcus added. "I'll look through everything. Quietly."
Her stomach twisted.
"You?" she asked.
"I'm trained for this," he said smoothly. "That's why they brought me in."
Elara searched his face. She saw confidence. Control.
And something else she could not name.
"I still want access," she said. "I want to see the full trail."
Marcus laughed softly. "Of course you do."
He placed a hand on her shoulder. She flinched before she could stop herself.
"Trust me," he said. "Go home. Rest. I'll fix it."
The word trust rang loud in her ears.
She nodded slowly. Saying no felt like starting a fire she did not know how to put out.
"Okay," she said.
"Good," Marcus replied. "You're doing amazing work."
Elara left his office feeling smaller than when she entered.
The rest of the day passed in a blur. She smiled at volunteers. She helped families sign up. She wrapped donated gifts with careful hands.
But her mind never stopped.
When she finally locked up and headed home, the city was glowing with Christmas lights. Carols played from a nearby store. A child laughed as snow fell.
Normally, this filled her with joy.
Tonight, it felt far away.
At home, Elara kicked off her shoes and collapsed onto the couch. Exhaustion hit her all at once.
She checked her phone.
No new messages.
She hesitated, then opened her banking app. Everything looked normal.
"See," she whispered. "You're just tired."
She made a simple dinner she barely tasted. Then she stood at the window for a long time, watching snow drift down.
Grace's voice echoed in her head.
If something feels wrong, it usually is.
Elara shook her head. "I'm just scared," she said.
She changed into pajamas and climbed into bed. Her body sank into the mattress like it had been waiting all day.
Her phone buzzed once on the nightstand.
She did not wake up.
Across town, a screen glowed in the dark.
A cursor blinked.
Login successful.
Username: Elara Quinn.
Password accepted.
A transfer request was opened.
A large one.
The money moved quietly, slipping out like breath on cold air.
No alarms. No warnings.
Just numbers changing places.
Back in her apartment, Elara slept on, unaware.
Her phone buzzed again.
And again.
Morning light crept through the curtains.
Elara stirred, reaching for her phone with a groan.
Her screen was full of missed alerts.
Her heart stopped.
She sat up fast and opened the app.
The balance stared back at her.
Wrong.
Very wrong.
Her breath came out in a broken sound.
"No," she whispered. "No, no, no."
She refreshed the page.
The number did not change.
Her hands shook so badly she almost dropped the phone.
A notification slid down the screen.
Security Alert: Unusual activity detected.
Another followed.
Transfer completed at 2:14 a.m.
Elara stared at the time.
She had been asleep.
Her chest felt like it was caving in.
She scrolled down.
User: Elara Quinn.
Her name.
Her access.
Her life.
A knock sounded at her door.
Sharp. Loud.
Elara jumped, fear racing through her veins.
She looked at the door, then back at her phone.
The knock came again.
And in that moment, she understood.
Whatever was happening had already begun.
And it was wearing her name.