PART 4:

Too precise? Mason Reed types at about 70 words per minute with a specific error pattern. Whoever accessed the servers that night typed at 95 words per minute with almost zero errors. That’s not just different, that’s statistically impossible for the same person. One of the men spoke up. We also found traces of a remote access tunnel.

Someone spoofed the credentials from outside the building. They made it look like Mason was at his workstation, but he wasn’t. He couldn’t have been. Scarlet stared at the code on the screen, her mind racing. Why didn’t this show up in the initial audit? Sarah Chen shifted uncomfortably. Because someone buried it.

The authentication logs were altered to hide the remote access markers. We only found it because we went back and checked the raw server data against the processed audit reports. Someone with high-level system access deliberately made it look like Mason Reed was guilty. The office went quiet except for the sound of snow hitting the windows.

Who has that level of access? Scarlet’s voice came out calmer than she felt. Within the company? Maybe 15 people. All executives or senior IT staff. Get me a list. Names, access levels, everything. Scarlet stood up, her mind already running through implications. And I want a full audit of everyone who touched the initial investigation.

If someone inside Orion Global framed Mason Reed, I want to know who and why. The forensics team nodded and left. Scarlett stood at her windows watching the city move below. Buses and taxis, pedestrians hurrying through the cold, everyone focused on their own problems, their own lives. She’d destroyed Mason Reed’s reputation on national news.

She’d called him a thief and a traitor in front of the board, in front of the media, in front of everyone who would listen. And if the forensics team was right, if he’d actually been innocent this whole time. Her phone rang. Richard Holbrook. Scarlett, have you seen the latest reports? The stock is up 2%.

Investors are responding well to our decisive action. Richard, we need to talk. About what? There’s been a development in the investigation. His voice sharpened. What kind of development? Scarlett chose her words carefully. It’s possible our initial findings were incomplete. I’m ordering a deeper audit before we proceed with any legal action against Mason Reed.

Silence on the other end. Then, Scarlett, we’ve already made a public statement. The board has already approved this course of action. You can’t just I can, and I am. If we’re wrong about this, if we prosecute an innocent man, the lawsuits alone could destroy this company. And if you’re right, if he’s actually innocent and we’ve already ruined his life? Richard’s voice was cold.

That’s not a lawsuit, Scarlett. That’s a catastrophe. Better to commit to the narrative we’ve already established. Better to cover up the truth? Better to protect the company. That’s your job. He hung up. Scarlett stood there holding her phone feeling something crack inside her chest. This was it. This was the choice.

She could follow the evidence where it led, find the real culprit, clear Mason Reed’s name, and probably destroy her own reputation in the process. Admit she’d been wrong, admit she’d rushed to judgment, admit she’d sacrificed an innocent man because it was convenient, or she could do what Richard Holbrooke suggested. Commit to the narrative.

Let Mason Reed take the fall, protect the company, protect her position, protect everything she’d built. The smart play was obvious. The right play was something else entirely. March. By 5:00 p.m. Scarlet had the list. 15 names, all with high-level system access. She recognized most of them. Senior executives, department heads, people she’d worked with for years.

One name stood out. Leonard Graves, chief financial officer. 58 years old, with Orion Global since the beginning. He’d been one of the first major investors, back when the company was just Scarlet and a business plan scribbled on coffee-stained napkins. He’d believed in her when no one else would.

He also had the highest level of system access outside of Scarlet herself. She pulled up Leonard’s file, frowning. Nothing seemed unusual. Stellar performance reviews, no disciplinary issues, well-liked by staff. He played golf with Richard Holbrooke on weekends. He’d been at Scarlet’s 30th birthday party last year, giving a toast about her brilliant future.

But something nagged at her. A memory from 3 months ago. Leonard asking about infrastructure security protocols. Wanting to know which employees had access to which systems. At the time, she’d assumed he was just being thorough. Now, Scarlet opened a secure chat with Sarah Chen. Run a deep audit on Leonard Graves. Everything.

Access logs, financial transactions, email communications. I want to know every system he’s touched in the last 6 months. The response came back in seconds. That’s going to raise flags. He’s CFO. I know. Do it anyway. You’re the boss. Scarlet closed her laptop and looked out at Manhattan turning dark. Christmas lights starting to glow in windows across the city.

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