PART 5:

Somewhere out there, Mason Reed was probably explaining to his 6-year-old daughter why strangers were saying terrible things about her father on television. She grabbed her coat and headed for the elevator. Was. The address was in Queens, exactly where the employee database said it would be. Scarlett’s driver pulled up outside the old brick building, idling at the curb while she stared at the entrance like it might explode.

Should I wait, Ms. Vaughn? Yes. She climbed out before she could change her mind. The building’s front door was propped open with a brick. Inside the hallway smelled like old cooking and radiator heat. Stairs climbed up into dim lighting, the kind of place where the elevator had probably been broken for a decade.

Fourth floor. Apartment 4C. Scarlett’s heels echoed against the steps as she climbed. What was she even doing here? What was she going to say? Sorry I destroyed your life on national television, but it turns out we might have made a small mistake. She reached the fourth floor and stopped in front of 4C. Light showed under the door.

Inside she could hear voices, a man’s low rumble and a child’s higher pitch talking about something that made the little girl laugh. Scarlett raised her hand to knock. The door opened before she could touch it. Mason Reed stood there in jeans and a sweater that had seen better days, looking at her with those same tired eyes.

For a long moment neither of them spoke. Ms. Vaughn, he said finally. I’d say this is a surprise, but I’m pretty sure nothing about the last 48 hours qualifies as normal anymore. I need to talk to you. Daddy? A small voice came from inside the apartment. Who is it? Mason glanced over his shoulder. Just someone from work, Chloe.

Finish your dinner, okay? Okay. He stepped into the hallway and closed the door behind him. They stood in the cramped space, snow melting off Scarlett’s designer coat onto the worn carpet. Make it quick, Mason said. She’s already confused about why I’m home so much lately. I don’t want her more scared than she already is.

” “The forensics team found discrepancies in the initial audit.” Something flickered across Mason’s face. Not hope, something more complicated than that. “Discrepancies,” he repeated. “Your credentials were used, but the biometric signature doesn’t match. Someone spoofed your access remotely. They framed you.

” Mason was quiet for a long time. Then he laughed, a short bitter sound that had nothing to do with humor. “So you’re here to what? Apologize? Tell me it’s all been a big misunderstanding?” He shook his head. “Ms. Vaughn, do you have any idea what the last 2 days have been like? I’ve had reporters camped outside this building.

Chloe’s school called asking if I was a security risk. My neighbors won’t make eye contact with me. Whatever life I had before you decided I was guilty, that’s gone now. I know.” Scarlet forced herself to hold his gaze. “And I know an apology doesn’t fix it, but I’m going to find out who really did this. I’m going to clear your name.

” “Why?” “Because it’s the right thing to do.” “No.” Mason’s voice was quiet but sharp. “Why do you care? You didn’t care about the truth when you threw me under the bus in front of your board. You didn’t care about evidence or due process or giving me a chance to defend myself. So why now? What changed?” Scarlet opened her mouth and found she didn’t have an answer, or maybe she had too many answers, none of them good enough.

“I made a mistake,” she said finally. “Yeah, you did.” Mason reached for the door handle. “But that’s not my problem anymore. Whatever you need to do to sleep at night, Ms. Vaughn, you do it. I’m done with Orion Global. I’m done with you. I’m done with all of it.” “Mason?” “Don’t.” He opened the door and warm light spilled into the hallway along with the smell of pasta and the sound of a little girl humming to herself.

Just don’t. The door closed. Scarlett stood there in the empty hallway listening to the muffled sounds of life continuing on the other side of that door. A father and daughter sharing dinner untouched by the corporate warfare that had nearly destroyed them. She’d come here planning to fix things, to make it right, to be the hero of this story.

Instead, she just felt small. Scarlett didn’t sleep that night, either. She sat at her kitchen counter until 3:00 a.m. going through Leonard Graves access logs on her laptop. The blue light making her eyes burn. The city stretched out below her windows. Mostly dark now, except for the occasional lit window where someone else couldn’t sleep, couldn’t rest, couldn’t stop whatever thoughts were eating them alive.

The data Sarah Chen had sent over was extensive. Months of login records, system accesses, file transfers. At first glance, nothing looked suspicious. Leonard accessed the systems he was supposed to access at times that made sense for someone in his position. He reviewed financial reports, checked security protocols, monitored infrastructure performance.

But there were gaps. Small ones. Minutes here and there where the timestamps didn’t quite line up, where access patterns shifted in ways that seemed almost random. Unless you knew what to look for. Scarlett had spent 10 years building technology companies. She knew how people worked, how they moved through digital systems, how patterns emerged even when someone tried to hide them.

👉 [Tap here for the Next Part ] 👈