PART 17:

I won’t let them win.” “It’s not about winning or losing.” “It’s always about winning or losing.” Claire snapped. “That’s the only language my world speaks. You win or you lose. You survive or you don’t. You’re the predator or you’re prey. And I have spent 15 years refusing to be prey for anyone.” “Even if it kills you?” “Even then.

” They stared at each other in the harsh light of the shop, and Claire saw him struggling with something, frustration, maybe, or the desire to shake sense into her. But when he spoke, his voice was gentle. “You know what the difference is between you and your car?” he asked. “What?” “Your car I can fix. I can rebuild it, replace parts, make it better than new.

But you?” He shook his head. “You only get one life, Claire, one chance. And if someone takes that from you, there’s no repair, no replacement, no second try. You’re just gone.” The words hit harder than any accusation. Claire felt them lodge somewhere deep in her chest, in the place where she’d locked away all the fears she refused to acknowledge.

“I know that.” She whispered. “Do you? Because you’re standing here arguing about winning like this is a business negotiation instead of your life.” Nate took a step closer. “I’ve watched my daughter code twice. I’ve held her hand while doctors tried to restart her heart. I’ve sat in waiting rooms at 3:00 in the morning wondering if she’d see sunrise.

And you know what I learned? What? That life doesn’t care about winning. It doesn’t care about being strong or being right or refusing to back down. It just cares about whether you’re still breathing at the end. His voice cracked slightly. And I’m trying really hard to make sure you’re still breathing, Claire, but I can’t do it alone.

I need you to care about staying alive as much as you care about not losing. Claire felt tears prick her eyes for the second time in 2 days. A record she hadn’t approached in years. I don’t know how, she admitted. I don’t know how to be someone who runs from fights. Then don’t run. But don’t stand still and make yourself an easy target, either.

Nate pulled out his phone again, scrolling through something. I’ve been thinking about this. About who had the knowledge and access to pull off both the original sabotage and tonight’s break-in. And I keep coming back to the same question. What question? Who profits from your death? Claire laughed bitterly. Lots of people.

My competitors, hostile shareholders who want to break up the company and sell it for parts. Environmental groups who blame Montgomery Industries for pollution. Take your pick. But who profits immediately? Who gets something tangible the moment you’re gone? The question hung in the air, and Claire’s mind started working through the possibilities.

Her company had succession plans. If she died, control would pass to her executive board until they could appoint a new CEO. Her personal wealth would go to various charities per her will. Her shares in Montgomery Industries would be distributed according to carefully drafted legal documents. My COO, she said slowly.

Marcus Webb. He’s next in line for CEO if I’m gone. He’s been pushing for more control, arguing that I’m too aggressive, that the board needs to rein me in. Does he have technical knowledge? Background in engineering or computers? No, he’s finance. MBA from Wharton. Worked his way up through acquisitions. Then he’d need help.

Someone with the skills to hack your car. Claire thought about Marcus’s team, his inner circle, the people he’d brought with him when she’d promoted him 3 years ago. His chief of staff used to work in IT security. Before that, he was at a defense contractor doing cyber work. Nate’s eyes sharpened. Name? David something. David Chen, Chang.

Claire pulled out her phone and scrolled through her company directory. David Chang, age 32, MIT graduate. Worked at Lockheed Martin for 5 years before joining Montgomery Industries. Does he have access to your schedule? Through Marcus, yes. The executive team has visibility into my calendar for coordination purposes.

What about your parking garage? Claire thought back through the access logs she’d been reviewing. I’d have to check, but probably. Executive staff get parking privileges, and Marcus has been to my building dozens of times for meetings. Nate was typing rapidly on his phone, making notes, building a case. Okay. So, we have motive.

Marcus wants your job. We have opportunity. David has the skills and the access. What we need now is evidence. How do we get that? We make them panic. Nate looked up from his phone, and there was something calculating in his expression that reminded Claire he’d spent years solving complex problems. They broke in tonight because they needed to cover their tracks.

That means they’re worried. They think I found something that can identify them. If we let them believe that’s true, that I’m close to proving who did it, they might make a mistake. Or they might try to kill me faster. That’s why you’re going to disappear. Claire stared at him. Excuse me? Not literally, but you need to be unpredictable.

Change hotels every night, use cash. Don’t tell anyone where you’re staying. Make it impossible for them to track you while we investigate. Nate’s voice was firm, but not unkind. I know it’s not how you want to live. I know it feels like losing, but it’s not losing, Claire. It’s surviving long enough to win. Every instinct Claire had screamed against this plan.

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