The Verity Labs due diligence was a beast, a mountain of digital paperwork that would have sent most interns running for coffee and excuses. For Britney, it was a sanctuary. Here, amidst the dry legalese and complex technical specifications, the rules were clear. Find the flaw, strengthen the argument, protect the client. It was a logic puzzle on a billion-dollar scale, and she was perfectly equipped to solve it.
She'd pushed the strange coincidence of the name 'Finch' to the back of her mind. Serene's visit had been a jarring reminder of a world she didn't belong to, but this task, this was her world. Or at least, the world she was carving out for herself.
Her focus was so absolute that the ping of a new email made her jump. The sender was generic—"Titan IT Support"—but the subject line made her blood run cold: "Final Warning: Unauthorized Data Access."
The body of the email was curt, official, and terrifying. It accused her user ID of attempting to access highly classified R&D servers unrelated to the Verity acquisition. It cited a timestamp from barely twenty minutes ago and stated that a second violation would result in immediate termination and a report to the legal department for industrial espionage.
Britney's heart hammered against her ribs. This was impossible. She'd been neck-deep in patent files all morning. She hadn't so much as opened a new browser tab.
Panic was a luxury she couldn't afford. She took a deep breath, her legal training kicking in. Evidence. Alibi. Motive. She had no motive. Her alibi was her work history—every keystroke was logged on the Verity files. The evidence was this email, which felt… off. Would IT send a "final warning" for a first alleged offense? And to a lowly intern? Wouldn't security or Higgins be the first to pounce?
It was a setup. It had to be. But by whom? Higgins, still smarting from being shown up by an intern? It seemed petty, even for him. A jealous co-intern? Possible, but the stakes felt too high.
Then she remembered. The flicker of Serene's dismissive gaze. The cold feeling she'd gotten from the name 'Finch'. It seemed absurd. Why would a socialite like Serene Finch care about a legal intern? Unless… unless that strange coincidence wasn't a coincidence at all.
Before she could spiral further, a new email arrived. This one was from Klaus Smith himself. The subject was just as stark: "My office. Now."
This was it. She was about to be fired for a crime she didn't commit. Her hard-won career, over before it began. Squaring her shoulders, she walked the long corridor to the corner office. His assistant, a man with a calm demeanor that seemed genetically engineered to handle his boss's intensity, waved her in without a word.
Klaus's office was a monument to minimalism and power. Floor-to-ceiling windows showcased the city, as if he owned that, too. He was standing by the window, his back to her, holding a tablet.
"Sit," he said, without turning around.
She sat in the austerely comfortable chair opposite his desk, her back straight.
He turned. His expression was, as always, unreadable. He placed the tablet on the desk facing her. On the screen was a security log. "Explain this."
It was the same log from the IT email. Her user ID, pinging a server she'd never heard of.
"I can't, sir," she said, her voice remarkably steady. "Because I didn't do it."
"Your credentials were used."
"Then my credentials were compromised. Or it's a fabricated log. At 10:14 AM, I was cross-referencing Verity's patent #7,845,992 with its European counterpart. The activity should be logged in the document management system. This server," she pointed at the screen, "isn't even in a sector of the network I have clearance to see."
Klaus watched her, his blue eyes missing nothing. He was silent for a long moment, assessing her. She met his gaze, refusing to look away, refusing to show the fear churning in her gut. She was innocent. She would fight this.
"An interesting theory," he said finally. He picked up the tablet, tapped the screen a few times, and then showed it to her again. It was a different log. "This is the remote access log for the R&D server. The login attempt originated from an internal IP address assigned to… the fifth-floor conference room. The one currently booked for a meeting between my CFO and representatives from the Finch Foundation."
Britney's breath caught. Finch Foundation. Serene.
"The conference room is a public access point. Anyone could have used that terminal," Britney stated, careful to keep any accusation out of her voice.
"Indeed," Klaus replied, his tone flat. He set the tablet down. "It seems someone went to a great deal of trouble to frame a first-day intern for a very clumsy hacking attempt."
The relief that washed over her was so potent it left her dizzy. He believed her. "So… the IT email…"
"A forgery. A convincing one, but sent from an external domain masked to look internal. A amateur's mistake for anyone with basic security knowledge." A hint of cold amusement touched his lips. "It seems your 'adequate' performance has already made you an enemy, Miss Carter."
He believed her, but he wasn't going to handle it for her. He was presenting the facts, watching to see what she would do with them.
"What happens now?" she asked.
"Now," he said, sitting down in his chair and steepling his fingers. "I expect you to be more vigilant. And I will be watching to see if this… enmity… affects your work on the Verity files. Consider it part of your due diligence."
It was a test. A brutal, unfair test. But it was also a chance. He wasn't firing her. He was, in his own bizarre way, telling her to get back to work and handle it.
"Understood, sir," she said, rising. "It won't happen again." Because I won't be so easily blindsided again, she thought.
As she reached the door, his voice stopped her. "Carter."
She turned.
"The Finch Foundation," he said, his gaze intense. "Is there any reason someone connected to it would target you?"
The question hung in the air. She thought of the name in the document, the woman who raised her, the flawless, dismissive face of Serene Finch. A hundred puzzle pieces swirled, none of them fitting together.
"No, sir," she said, her voice firm. It was the truth. She had no reason. Yet. "None that I know of."
He gave a slow, deliberate nod, his eyes still fixed on her, seeing more than she wanted to show. "Then I suggest you find out."
The door clicked shut behind her, leaving her in the quiet hallway. The fear was gone, replaced by a cold, sharp resolve. Someone had tried to destroy her. And Klaus Smith, the king of this concrete jungle, had just given her his tacit permission to find out who.
The game had just begun.