Bearing Witness

The sphinx in the conference room watched Elena with painted eyes, its ceramic smile mocking her as she reviewed the security footage. Three A.M. and she was still at the office, tracing the cable that ran beneath the floorboards—the same one her husband had installed last year during their renovation. The company's new surveillance system, his brainchild, now caught him in its lens.

She'd suspected something for months. The way his phone lit up during dinner, the business trips that never aligned with his calendar, the sudden interest in her office's security protocols. She'd borne it silently, telling herself she was being paranoid, that ten years of marriage deserved the benefit of the doubt. But the sphinx knew—ancient creatures always knew secrets.

On screen, she watched him meet their competitor in the parking garage. Documents exchanged. A kiss that wasn't professional. Elena felt something crack inside her, clean and sharp.

"You're still here?"

Elena jumped. Marcus, the junior analyst, stood in the doorway holding coffee. "Couldn't sleep."

He nodded like he understood. "Me neither." He gestured toward the sphinx. "My daughter asked me what that thing is. Why it's here."

"It's a riddle," Elena said. "The answer is always human."

Marcus studied her face, then the monitor playing her husband's betrayal. "You know, my cousin works at the firm your husband just met with. Been trying to recruit me for months." He set down his coffee. "Said they'd pay triple for someone with access to the right cable closet."

Elena turned to him slowly. "And?"

"And I told him some things aren't for sale." Marcus shrugged. "But I guess you already learned that tonight."

On screen, her husband laughed at something the woman said. Elena stopped the recording, deleted the file, and began drafting her resignation. Some secrets, she decided, should remain riddles—answered only by the lives we choose to live afterward.