The truth was a bomb that had detonated silently inside her, leaving Britney's world rearranged into unrecognizable fragments. For the rest of the day, she moved through the Titan Global offices on autopilot. Her hands typed, her eyes scanned documents, her lips even managed to form polite responses to Higgins's curt demands, but her mind was a million miles away.
James Finch. Lora Finch. My father. My mother.
The words played on a loop, each repetition sending a fresh jolt of surreal energy through her. The rage had subsided, replaced by a deep, aching sense of dislocation. She looked at her hands—the hands that had scrubbed floors and held multiple part-time jobs to put herself through school—and tried to reconcile them with the image of James Finch's elegant, ink-stained fingers signing multi-million dollar deals. She thought of her tiny, functional apartment and tried to superimpose it onto the sprawling Finch estate she'd seen in magazine spreads.
It was impossible.
The work became her anchor. The dry, factual language of patent law and acquisition clauses was a lifeline to reality. She focused on the Verity report with a new, almost desperate intensity. This wasn't just an internship task anymore; it was a shield. It was the one thing she could control.
As promised, she emailed the preliminary findings to Higgins at 4:58 PM. It was concise, thoroughly researched, and highlighted several potential risks in the intellectual property transfer that a less meticulous eye might have missed. She half-expected another forged email or a sudden accusation, but nothing came. The silence felt more ominous than the attack.
At 6:30 PM, the office began to empty. Britney remained, ostensibly reviewing her notes, but really just trying to delay returning to her lonely apartment, where the enormity of her discovery would surely swallow her whole.
A shadow fell across her desk. She looked up, her heart performing its now-familiar acrobatic routine at the sight of Klaus Smith. He stood there, his coat draped over his arm, his expression unreadable.
"The report to Higgins," he stated, without preamble. "You highlighted the potential patent overlap with the defunct Aether Innovations projects."
Britney blinked, pulling herself back to the present. "Yes, sir. The core technology is similar, and Aether's patents were bought by a shell company that was later dissolved. There's a non-zero chance a claim could be made, creating a delay or financial liability. It's a low-probability risk, but given the acquisition price, it warranted a footnote."
Klaus studied her for a moment. She looked the same as she had that morning—same determined set to her jaw, same intelligent eyes. But something was different. A new layer of tension hummed beneath the surface, a wariness that hadn't been there before. She'd faced the attempted framing with defiant anger. Now, she seemed… preoccupied. Guarded.
"Higgins missed it," Klaus said, his tone neutral. "His review noted the report was 'surprisingly thorough for an intern'."
Britney didn't know what to say. "Thank you" seemed inappropriate. She just nodded.
"You're working late," he observed, his gaze sweeping over her clear desk. The real work was done.
"Just finishing up, sir."
He continued to watch her, that unnerving, analytical blue stare that made her feel like an open book she herself hadn't finished reading. He'd seen the security logs, connected the dots to the Finch Foundation's presence, and now he was seeing this—the subtle shift in her demeanor after her world had been upended.
"The Verity acquisition," he said, switching topics so abruptly it threw her. "There's a meeting with potential partners tomorrow. 10 AM. You'll attend. Be prepared to speak to your findings."
Britney's stomach clenched. "Partners, sir?"
"The Finch Foundation has a vested interest in the educational applications of Verity's technology," he said, and she could have sworn she saw a flicker of something knowing in his eyes. Was he testing her? Throwing her directly into the lion's den to see if she'd flinch? "They'll be represented."
Of course they would. The universe, or rather, Klaus Smith, had a cruel sense of timing.
"I'll be prepared," she said, her voice thankfully steady.
He gave a short, sharp nod. "See that you are." He turned to leave but paused. "Carter."
"Yes, sir?"
"The best defense against an enemy isn't just a strong shield. It's an impeccable reputation. No one can undermine a record of flawless work."
Her breath caught. It was the closest thing to advice, to reassurance, he had ever offered. It was also a confirmation that he knew the attack this morning was just the beginning, and that the battle would be fought on the battlefield of her professional competence.
He left without another word, leaving her alone with the echo of his statement. He knows, she thought. Maybe not the specifics, but he sensed the war being waged around her. And in his own, bizarre way, he was aroring her.
The fear of facing Serene again, now knowing what she knew, was still there. But it was tempered by a new resolve. Klaus was right. She couldn't control Serene's lies, but she could control her own work. Her own truth.
She packed her bag, her movements deliberate. Tomorrow, she would walk into a room with the woman who had stolen her life. And she wouldn't do it as a victim or a angry heiress. She would do it as Britney Carter, legal intern, the author of a flawless report.
She had the shield. Now, she just had to be ready to use it.