Just me and him. Mera stiffened. You’re bringing him here. If we spook him, he shuts it all down. If we wait too long, he finds a way to make us the story. He looked at her. You okay with that? I’m the one who walked in the fire. I’m not backing out now. He didn’t smile, but something in his eyes softened.
You know, he said, “Most people in your position would have taken the paycheck and played it safe.” Meera raised her eyebrows. “Yeah, well, I stopped being most people the day I handed a bottle of watered down formula to my son and pretended it was enough.” That night, Meera couldn’t sleep. She sat at her kitchen table, laptop open,pouring over the backup logs of Helix Core’s internal messaging system.
She knew she was getting close, and close was dangerous. She’d seen enough stories. whistleblowers shut out, data wiped, good people discredited by people more powerful than they’d ever be. And yet, she wasn’t afraid of that. She was afraid of failing Noah, of letting someone like Vincent Harmon take money that could have gone to research, to development, to employees, to single moms like her who didn’t get secret phone calls from billionaires.
Half past midnight, her phone buzzed. Still awake? Obviously, you should sleep. You should follow your own advice. We’re going to get him, but when we do, things are going to get noisy. I want you ready. I’m always ready. I just never had backup for. There was no reply. But a few seconds later, a single message came through. You do now.
The meeting was set for 10 a.m. sharp. Meera sat at her desk, her stomach in a slow churn. Noah was napping peacefully in the nursery behind her, completely unaware that in just a few minutes, a man who had siphoned millions right under this building’s nose was about to sit across from the CEO of the company he’d quietly been bleeding dry.
Jackson had told her to stay in her office, but to monitor the security feed. She pulled it up on her second monitor, adjusted the angle to the conference room one floor below, and waited. It felt strange being in the room, but not in the room. She wasn’t watching a screen. She was watching a moment that would determine the next chapter of both their lives. At exactly 10:00 a.m.
, the door opened. Vincent Harmon walked in with the ease of a man who believed the world owed him something. He wore a navy blue suit, tailored perfectly, and an expression that hovered between casual boredom and polite confidence. Jackson was already seated. There was no handshake. Meera leaned in closer. Appreciate you making time, Jackson said, voice steady.
Of course, Vincent replied smoothly. I always make time for the boss. Meera studied his face. She’d seen that expression before in job interviews, in boardrooms, even in line at daycare pickup. It was the look of someone who already believed they were three moves ahead. I’ve been reviewing some of the quarterly financials, Jackson said.
and I’ve noticed a few oddities. Vincent tilted his head. We’ve streamlined quite a bit this year. Maybe too fast. That’s on me. Growing pains. Jackson nodded once. Streamlined is one word for it. Mirror could feel the tension building. Quiet but sharp. There’s a vendor. Jackson continued. Try Solutions. You’re familiar. Vincent barely blinked. Doesn’t ring a bell.
Is that facilities or security? Apparently both. And also research and legal. interesting for a company no one can seem to contact directly. Vincent smiled thin just slightly. I’ll have my team look into it, he offered. You are your team, Jackson said. You approve those payments for the first time. Vincent didn’t respond right away.
Jackson leaned forward. I know what you’ve been doing. I have the logs, device IDs, login footprints, shell account structures. You’ve been moving money through dummy vendors and distributing it through ghost pipelines. And you thought no one would notice. Vincent’s mouth twitched. Meera couldn’t tell if it was irritation or amusement.
“You’ve been listening to your new pet accountant a little too closely,” he said. Meera’s stomach dropped. “He knew.” Jackson didn’t flinch. “Her name is Meera, and she saw what you were hoping everyone else would ignore.” Vincent laughed quietly. “And let me guess, you two have been bonding late at night over spreadsheets and baby bottles.
” Mera’s pulse spiked, her hands curled into fists under the desk. Jackson’s voice dropped. Calm, controlled. “You’re done, Vince.” “No,” Vincent said, smile returning. “You’re done.” The words hung in the air like a switchblade. Vincent reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small flash drive. He set it on the table between them.
“You think you’re the only one who’s been collecting data? Come on, Jackson. You’re not that naive. The board’s tired of your secret projects and PR disasters. They’re tired of your moods, your grief. You made the company vulnerable. I just helped it survive. Meera leaned closer to the screen, breath caught. Jackson’s jaw tightened.
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