Lila's laptop screen glowed in the dim light of her Hamptons guest suite, the encrypted Aurora Holdings files taunting her. The note from last night—Trust no one. Aurora is watching—lay folded on the nightstand, its words a splinter in her mind. She hadn't slept, her thoughts tangled between the $12 million discrepancy, Elias Vantage's cold gray eyes, and the eerie sense that every move she made in this sprawling estate was being watched.
It was 2 a.m., and the ocean roared outside, a restless rhythm that matched her pulse. Lila's fingers danced across the keyboard, decoding a fragment of Aurora's data. The transactions weren't just offshore—they were linked to a global hacking network, bouncing through servers in Dubai, Moscow, and a ghost IP she couldn't pin down. Whoever was behind this wasn't just hiding money; they were building something bigger. Phase Two, the voices had whispered.
A knock at the door jolted her. She slammed her laptop shut, her heart racing. "Who's there?"
"Elias." His voice was low, authoritative, cutting through the silence.
Lila hesitated, smoothing her rumpled sweater. She opened the door to find him in a black shirt, sleeves rolled up, his usual polish softened by the late hour. His gray eyes scanned her, lingering on the laptop.
"You're still working," he said, stepping inside without asking. The room felt smaller with him in it, his sandalwood cologne mixing with the salty ocean air.
"I don't sleep when there's a $12 million hole in your books," she shot back, her defiance masking her nerves. "I found something. Aurora's tied to a hacking network. This isn't just fraud—it's organized."
His jaw tightened, a flicker of something—anger? fear?—crossing his face. "Show me."
She reopened the laptop, her fingers brushing his as she angled the screen. The contact sent a spark through her, unwanted but undeniable. She focused on the data, pointing out the encrypted transfers. "These servers are bouncing signals globally. Someone's covering their tracks, and they're good."
Elias leaned closer, his breath warm against her cheek. "Aurora was a project I shut down years ago," he said, his voice quieter now, almost reluctant. "A security protocol for our cloud systems. Someone revived it without my knowledge."
Lila's eyes narrowed. "You expect me to believe you didn't know about millions moving through your company?"
His gaze hardened, but there was a crack in his composure, a shadow of something personal. "My brother, Julian, oversaw Aurora before he… died. Two years ago. Car accident." His voice caught, barely, but enough to make Lila pause.
She softened, her dad's lessons about empathy tugging at her. "I'm sorry," she said, meaning it. "But if Aurora's back, someone close to you is involved."
He straightened, the vulnerability gone as quickly as it appeared. "That's why you're here, Miss Carver. Find them."
The moment stretched, their eyes locked, the air thick with unspoken tension. Lila's pulse raced, not just from the conspiracy but from him—his intensity, his nearness. She broke the gaze, turning back to the screen. "I'll need more access. These firewalls are military-grade."
"You'll have it," he said, stepping back. "But you report only to me. Understood?"
Before she could answer, footsteps echoed in the hall. Zara, the COO, appeared at the door, her sharp eyes flicking between them. "Elias, we need to talk. Now." Her tone was clipped, her gaze lingering on Lila with barely veiled hostility.
"Later," Elias said, but Zara didn't budge.
"It's about Phase Two," she said, her voice low, urgent. "We can't wait."
Lila's blood ran cold. Phase Two—again. The same phrase from the encrypted file, from the argument she'd overheard. Elias's expression didn't change, but his hand clenched briefly at his side.
"Tomorrow, Zara," he said, his tone final. She shot Lila a look that could've cut glass before leaving.
Elias turned to Lila. "Get some rest. You'll need it." He left without another word, the door clicking shut.
Lila sank onto the bed, her mind spinning. Elias's brother, a dead project, a hacking network—every piece of this puzzle screamed danger. She glanced at the note again, its warning louder now. Trust no one.
She reopened her laptop, determined to crack the next layer of Aurora's files. But as the screen flickered to life, a new message popped up, unprompted, in stark red text: Stop now, or you're next.