Page 49 of Executive Privilege

My phone rings. Emma.

"How did operation 'fight for love' go?" she asks.

"Spectacularly badly. He thinks I leaked confidential client information to competitors."

"He what?"

"There's a security breach involving one of their major accounts, and rather than investigate properly, Nicholas decided it must be connected to me getting close to him. Because apparently that's what happened before."

"Before?"

"Long story."

Emma is quiet for a moment. "What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to prove I had nothing to do with the security breach, save his client relationship, and then probably start looking for a new job."

"Why?"

"Because he's going to self-destruct if I don't. I'll do this and then I'm done with him."

"No matter how much I care about him, he's gone to far with this accusation."

After we hang up, I drive home and spend the rest of the day researching Hartwell Industries, trying to figure out how their campaign strategy could have been leaked and who had access to the information.

Not because I think Nicholas will thank me for the help.

By evening, I have a theory about the real source of the leak. Tomorrow, I'm going to prove it, save Nicholas's client relationship, and then figure out how to move on from the most complicated man I've ever fallen for.

A man who'd rather lose everything than risk trusting someone who could really and truly love him.

Chapter 13: Rock Bottom

I spend Tuesday morning proving my innocence like a woman possessed.

I meet up with my counterpart at Hartwell who happened to go to the same university as me, and we spend hours digging through digital records, cross-referencing timelines, and following the trail of who had access to Hartwell Industries' campaign strategy. By noon, we have a complete picture of how the information was leaked—and it has nothing to do with Event Horizons.

The leak came from inside Hartwell itself. A disgruntled marketing coordinator who had access to the strategy documents and gambling debts that made selling information to competitors an attractive option. The digital footprint is clear once you know where to look.

I compile everything into a comprehensive report and email it to Nicholas with the subject line: "Hartwell Investigation - Complete Analysis."

Then I wait.

And wait.

By 2 PM, there's no response. No acknowledgment, no thank you, no apology for suspecting me of industrial espionage. Nothing.

My phone rings at 2:15. Frankie.

"Sadie, where are you? Nicholas is asking for you."

"I'm working from home today. Personal day."

"He looks terrible. Worse than yesterday, if that's possible. And he's been staring at his computer screen for the past hour like it contains the secrets of the universe."

"He probably got my report on the Hartwell leak."

"You solved it?"