"Nine. All to HR. All closed without action."
"How many reports did you file?" Jax asked.
"Four. Over three months."
Jax's fingers were already moving. "Give me dates. Approximate is fine."
Arthur rattled off timeframes. Jax pulled up HR ticketing logs, eyes scanning rapidly through closed incidents. "Found them."
Jax leaned closer to the screen. His fingers picked up speed. "March 15th, expense irregularity flagged by... Arthur Vance, CFO. Closed same day by—" His voice sharpened. "Brenda Novak."
Arthur's hand moved to his calculator. Click.
"April 3rd," Jax continued, leg bouncing harder. "Another from you. Closed by Brenda Novak." Click-click. "May 22nd. Brenda Novak." Click. "June 8th—"
"Brenda Novak," Arthur finished quietly.
Jax shoved the laptop across the desk. The pattern was undeniable. Every report Arthur filed, closed by the same person within hours. Jax's nine reports showed the same name, over and over.
"See? This is what's been happening." Jax's leg was still bouncing. "I documented everything. Filed nine reports. Followed every protocol." He tapped the screen. "Nothing."
Arthur's hand moved to his calculator again. Click. Click-click. The rhythm was steady, mechanical.
Jax watched it. The way Arthur's hand needed to move. The same way his leg needed to move. Different system, same—
He blinked. Refocused.
"What do you have?" Jax asked.
"Financial misconduct. Expense misappropriation. Fraudulent claims across three fiscal quarters." Arthur pulled out the audit summary from today. Red marks covered the page. "He failed the audit. Significantly."
Chad's badge log ticked across Jax's screen. Left at 3:47.
He pulled up the feed. Chad, walking out the front door mid-phone call, jacket open, looking like a man who had no idea what was coming.
Where's April?
He pulled up her location. Couture Magnifique. He found the nearest camera feed and pulled it up.
She stepped out of the boutique into the light. Different clothes—champagne silk, fitted trousers. But it wasn't the clothes. It was how she moved. Shoulders down. Spine loose. Like she'd set the weight down in there and walked out without it.
Good.
He typed.
JAX:"We are spirits clad in veils."—Christopher Pearse Cranch
Should I have—
He typed again. She needed to know why.
JAX:I saw you come out of there different, April. Beautiful.
Oh.
That just told her I was watching.
He glanced at Arthur. Arthur was watching him the way he watched spreadsheets—like the numbers were off and he was waiting for them to explain themselves. "The technical issues today. The autocorrect. The calendar disruptions. That was you."
