Elena's apartment had been swept twice—once by Kaelen's team, once by a second unit Dominic insisted on sending. They found nothing: no bugs, no cameras, no signs of forced entry. The photograph of her window, it seemed, had been taken from a public sidewalk, a message delivered with surgical precision.
She hadn't slept. Every shadow in her bedroom had become a threat; every creak of the old building had sent her heart racing. By the time the sun rose over the city, she was already dressed, already out the door, already walking toward the one place she thought she could find answers.
Vance, Reed & Hollis occupied the fourteenth floor of a building that aspired to elegance but achieved only sterility. Gray carpet, gray walls, gray cubicles. Elena had always appreciated the neutrality of it—a blank canvas for the work. Today, the gray felt like a tomb.
She was at her desk by seven, pulling up the firm's billing records from the Millfield case. The settlement announcement was scheduled for noon; she needed to know who had access to the evidence portal, who had the means and motive to delete the files that could have won the case.
The list of seven names from her firm stared back at her. Herself. Gerald Vance. Three senior associates who had worked the case peripherally. Two paralegals. She had already ruled out the associates—they were too junior, too closely supervised. The paralegals had access but no clear motive.
That left Gerald.
She was staring at his name when her office door opened.
"Elena." Gerald Vance stood in the doorway, his tie slightly askew, his smile too wide. "You're in early. Good. I wanted to catch you before the chaos starts."
He stepped inside, closing the door behind him. The click of the latch was louder than it should have been.
"I heard you had an eventful night," he said, settling into the chair across from her desk. His tone was casual, but his eyes were sharp. "Something about a security scare?"
Elena's fingers stilled on the keyboard. "How did you hear about that?"
"Dominic Blackwood's people called the firm's security line this morning. Wanted to coordinate." Gerald spread his hands. "You're working for one of the most powerful men in the country, Elena. His paranoia becomes our paranoia."
"It wasn't paranoia. Someone photographed my apartment and sent it to my phone."
Gerald's expression flickered—something that might have been concern or might have been calculation. "A scare tactic. You're a high-profile attorney now. These things happen."
"These things happen to whistleblowers and investigative journalists," Elena said flatly. "Not to corporate lawyers who lose cases."
"You didn't lose." Gerald's voice hardened. "The case was compromised. We both know that."
Elena leaned back in her chair, studying him. He was nervous. She could see it in the way his fingers drummed on the armrest, the way he kept glancing at the door.
"Did you know?" she asked quietly. "About the deleted evidence."
Gerald's drumming stopped. "What?"
"The evidence chain. The files that were removed from the court's system two days before the trial. Someone with authorized credentials deleted them. Someone with access to the portal." She let the silence stretch. "Did you know?"
For a moment, Gerald's mask slipped. She saw something in his eyes—fear, maybe, or guilt—before it was replaced by practiced indignation.
"I didn't delete any evidence, Elena. I've been practicing law for thirty years. My reputation—"
"Your reputation," she interrupted, "is built on cases that settle quietly, clients who pay handsomely, and a very selective memory for inconvenient truths. I've worked for you for six years. I know how you operate."
Gerald rose from the chair, his face reddening. "You want to talk about how I operate? Fine. Let's talk about your new client. The man you swore was a monster. The man who poisoned an entire village. Now you're his personal investigator, chasing conspiracies and crying about threats?" He leaned over her desk, his voice dropping. "Blackwood is using you, Elena. He's turned you into a tool, and you're too blinded by your own ego to see it."
Elena stood, meeting him eye to eye. "If he's using me, then why are you so determined to keep me on this case?"
The question hung in the air. Gerald's mouth opened, then closed.
"The retainer," Elena continued, her voice cold. "The one you mentioned when you first pushed this meeting on me. You said it was too big to argue with. How big, Gerald? How much is Blackwood paying this firm to keep me on his payroll?"
Gerald's composure cracked. He stepped back, straightening his tie with trembling fingers.
"I'm not discussing the firm's finances with you."
"Then I'll find out myself." She reached for her phone. "I have access to the billing system. I can pull the retainer agreement in thirty seconds."
"You'll be in breach of your employment contract." Gerald's voice was strained. "Accessing privileged financial information without authorization is grounds for termination."
"Then fire me." Elena held his gaze. "Go ahead. Call HR. See what happens when I walk out the door with everything I know about the deleted evidence, the portal access logs, and the photograph someone sent to my phone last night."
The silence stretched. Gerald's face cycled through a series of expressions—anger, fear, calculation—before settling on something that looked almost like defeat.
He sat back down heavily, the fight draining out of him.
"Two million," he said quietly. "Blackwood's retainer was two million, payable upon signing. Triple our usual fee."
Elena's heart hammered against her ribs, but she kept her voice steady. "Why so much?"
"Because he wanted you." Gerald rubbed his eyes, suddenly looking every year of his age. "He made it clear that the retainer was contingent on your involvement. If you walked, the money walked. If you stayed, the firm got a payday that would cover our operating costs for the next three years."
"And if I found something that implicated the firm? Something about the deleted evidence?"
Gerald didn't answer. He didn't have to.
"You knew," Elena whispered. "You knew someone in this firm was involved, and you took the money anyway."
"I didn't know anything," Gerald snapped. "I suspected. The portal logs were clean, the deletion was untraceable. But I knew someone had access, and I knew it wasn't you. That left six names. I made a choice."
"You chose the money."
"I chose to keep this firm alive." He met her eyes, and for the first time, she saw something almost like honesty. "Vance, Reed & Hollis is three bad quarters from bankruptcy. We've been bleeding clients for years. The Millfield case was supposed to be our comeback, and we lost. When Blackwood came to us with that retainer, I didn't have the luxury of moral clarity."
Elena sat back down, the anger draining out of her, replaced by something colder. Disappointment, maybe. Or grief.
"You should have told me."
"And what would you have done? Walked away? Refused the case? Blackwood would have found another lawyer, and the firm would have folded, and the truth about Millfield would still be buried." Gerald shook his head. "I did what I thought was necessary."
"You did what was profitable." Elena pulled her keyboard toward her, her fingers moving over the keys. "I'm requesting a full audit of the firm's access logs for the Millfield case. Every keystroke, every login, every file opened in the six months leading up to the trial."
"Elena—"
"If you refuse, I go to the bar association. I go to the press. I tell them that a partner at this firm may have been involved in evidence tampering, and that you took a two-million-dollar bribe to keep me quiet." She looked up, her expression hard. "I'm not your employee anymore, Gerald. I'm your warning."
Gerald stared at her for a long moment, then stood. He walked to the door, his shoulders slumped.
"The audit request will be processed by noon," he said without turning around. "I hope you find what you're looking for."
He left, closing the door softly behind him.
Elena sat in the silence, her hands trembling on the keyboard. She had just burned her career at Vance, Reed & Hollis. Maybe her entire career. If word got out that she had threatened a partner, that she had blackmailed her own firm for access to internal records—
Her phone buzzed. A text from an unknown number.
The settlement announcement is live. Turn on the news.
She pulled up a news app on her phone. The headline was already there, splashed across the business section:
BLACKWOOD INDUSTRIES ANNOUNCES $50 MILLION MILLFIELD COMPENSATION FUND, LAUNCHES INDEPENDENT INVESTIGATION INTO EVIDENCE TAMPERING
Below it, a photograph of Dominic standing at a podium, his expression grave, his words already reshaping the narrative.
Elena stared at the screen, her mind churning. The settlement was out there now. The investigation was public. Victor Crane had seen their opening move.
And somewhere in the firm's server logs, she hoped, was the name of the person who had tried to bury the truth.
She picked up her phone and called Dominic.
He answered on the first ring.
"I saw the announcement," she said.
"Good." His voice was clipped, focused. "How did it go with your boss?"
She hesitated. "He admitted someone in the firm may have been involved. I'm pulling the access logs now."
A pause. When Dominic spoke again, his voice was lower. "Elena. Are you all right?"
The question caught her off guard. She wasn't used to being asked.
"I will be," she said. "When I find the truth."
"You will." His certainty was almost unnerving. "Whatever it takes. I'll make sure of it."
She wanted to ask him why. Why he trusted her, why he had paid two million dollars to keep her on this case, why he sounded like he actually cared whether she was all right. But the words wouldn't come.
"I'll send you the logs when I have them," she said instead.
"I'll be waiting."
The line went dead.
Elena set the phone down and looked out the window at the city below. Somewhere out there, Victor Crane was watching. Somewhere in this building, a traitor was walking the halls. And somewhere in the files she was about to access, the truth was waiting.
She had come too far to turn back now.