I navigate to the portal, typing in the internal company address for Midtown analytics dashboard. It takes a minute, but the page comes up. I locate the archives tab, click it, and when it doesn’t crash, I exhale slowly.
Sugar’s email said to check reports from the third and fourth quarters of last year.
So I plug in the date range. Pull up the quarterly profit breakdowns. Click. Wait. Click again. The loading bar creeps. Pages stall, then recover.
And so I sit there. For hours.
Profit reports, one after another.
Bylines. Broker names. Trade dates.
Transaction logs.
Nothing obvious—at first.
But then I start noticing patterns. Sell-offs that shouldn’t have been profitable. Trades that hit just before company-wide valuation dips.
I cross-reference the digital footprints. Recheck the author on the last internal projection memo.
And my stomach drops. Another colleague I trusted. Considered a friend.
I scrub a hand over my face. My skin feels flushed, but inside, I’m cold all over.
How the hell hadn’t I seen this happening?
I pull the USB stick from my pocket, pop the cap, and slide it into the port.
But halfway through the transfer, the connection stutters. A buffering icon appears, spins, and keeps spinning. Taunting me.
And then…
Error: page not found.
Refresh.
It loads halfway, then stalls again.
Come on...
The system can’t handle this connection.
Which means I’ll need to try again tomorrow from land. Somewhere with a signal that actually works. And all I can do is hope like hell the files I want don’t get deleted.
For now, I yank the USB and log out of the system. I push back from the desk and realize my eyes are gritty from staring at the screen.
And I ache from sitting here so long. Or maybe it’s the tension.
Definitely the tension.
The hallway back to the suite feels longer than it should and by the time I tap in with the keycard, I’m wired and wrung out at the same time.
Ashley’s asleep.
The lamp on her side is off, her arm flung across the sheet, cheek pressed to the pillow.
For a second, I just stand there.
Watching her breathe.
