Jennifer.
Three missed calls. The fourth appeared as I watched.
I answered immediately. “Jen? What’s going on?”
“Emma, you need to turn on Channel Seven. Right now,” she demanded.
“What happened?”
“Just—please. Turn it on. I’ll call you back once you’ve… once you’ve seen it.”
The line went dead.
I was already moving, slipping out from Damien’s arm with the grace of an elephant. I swung my legs over the side of the bed, cold floor biting my feet.
I heard Damien surge toward me, sheets rustling as he crossed the room.
“Em?” he called after me, words rough with sleep. “You okay?”
The vastness of the living room grew colder as I crossed it. Eyes locking on the remote like a sniper.
The headline hit instantly:
ELION INTERNAL DATA LEAK
Confidential Audit Documents Circulating outside Company Servers
A blurred screenshot filled the screen—my audit packet. My formatting. My name on every page.
Damien’s footsteps dragged behind me. “What’s wrong?”
I couldn’t speak.
New banners rolled across the screen:
FALKIRK IN TURMOIL AFTER LEAK OF ELION FINANCIAL DOCUMENTS
EMPLOYEES PANIC OVER POTENTIAL PARTNER’S DWINDLING FUNDS
QUESTIONS RISE ABOUT ELION’S STABILITY
“What the hell,” he muttered, coming to stand beside me.
Then another segment began.
Another headline.
Another blow.
ANALYSTS SPECULATE ON ELION’S VIABILITY
FALKIRK STAFF FEAR RELATIONAL FALLOUT
My stomach dropped.
This wasn’t just a leak.
It was a story. A judgment. A verdict.
