The drive ejects with a soft click. Sliding it into my pocket feels like defusing a bomb—one wrong move and everything explodes. "Heading out. Long day."
"Isabella." He says my name like he's testing it. "What did you see?"
Every instinct screams run. But running confirms guilt. Confusion settles over my expression with practiced ease. "See? Emil, what's wrong? You're acting strange."
"My files." Another step closer. "Were you accessing my files?"
"System check. You know how paranoid I get about data security." Gathering things becomes autopilot. Laptop. Notes. Coffee mug. End-of-day routine. Nothing suspicious. "You should change your password. Using the facility code is asking for trouble."
Something flickers in his expression. Relief? Or calculation that I'm lying?
"You're right." Posture relaxes slightly. "I've been meaning to update it. You know how it is—always putting off the tedious security protocols."
"Which is why I nag you constantly." The laptop bag zips closed, hopefully hiding how my hands shake. "Go home, Emil. Get some sleep. We have the investor presentation tomorrow morning."
"Yes. The presentation." He watches me move toward the door. "Isabella, about the project..."
The door's within reach. Don't stop. Don't give him time to think.
"We'll review everything in a few hours," tossed over my shoulder. "I want fresh eyes on the dispersal calculations one more time."
The keycard beeps. Lock releases.
"Isabella."
Every muscle tenses.
"Drive safely. The roads are wet tonight."
Through the window behind him, Lake Geneva reflects clear and still. No rain. No wet roads. Just stars on dark water.
He's telling me he knows.
"I will.Bonne nuit, Emil."
The hallway stretches endlessly before me. Walking away from the mentor who just threatened me without threatening me might be the hardest thing I've ever done. Walk. Don't run. Security cameras track every movement in this facility. Running triggers alerts, brings guards.
My car waits in the executive parking garage several floors down. Elevator or stairs? Elevator's faster but traps me if he raises an alarm. Stairs give options.
Stairs it is.
Heels click against concrete as I descend, echoing in the utilitarian space. Each floor passing feels like borrowed time. Basement parking spreads vast and mostly empty at this hour. My midnight blue Peugeot sits in its assigned space near the elevator bank. Exposed. Visible from the security office.
Keys in hand, purpose drives each step. Not running. Just a woman tired after hours of work, heading home to her apartment in the city.
The car unlocks with a soft beep. The engine starts. Pulling out of the space requires careful precision.
Security waves as I pass the booth. I wave back. Routine. Everything's routine.
The exit barrier rises. Merging onto the access road leading to the main highway comes with the first real breath since Emil walked in.
My apartment's compromised. The logic cascades through my mind with chemical precision. Emil will check his computer. See what files I accessed. Realize I downloaded evidence. If he's involved, others at the facility are too. They'll check my home first, my office, anywhere I might store what I took.
Swiss authorities might help, but what if the corruption goes deeper? Walking into a police station could mean handing this information to someone on their payroll.
The highway stretches ahead, nearly empty. Lyon's an option. My family's there. Resources. Protection.
Except bringing this to my family puts them in the crosshairs. My father's shipping empire makes him powerful but not untouchable. These people are selling weapons-grade technology to militant groups and cartels. They won't hesitate to eliminate anyone I involve.
