Citrus and Secrets

Elena peeled the orange with practiced precision, her fingers stained with the sharp scent of citrus. Across the café table, Marcus watched her with those eyes that had always seen too much.

"You're still doing it, aren't you?" he asked, his voice low. "The corporate spying thing."

She didn't look up. "Competitive intelligence, Marcus. There's a difference."

"Is there?" His tone was gentle, almost pitying. "You used to be a lawyer who believed in justice. Now you're... what? Selling trade secrets to the highest bidder?"

The orange segments glistened in the afternoon light. She'd met him eight years ago at a legal conference, both of them idealistic and drunk on cheap wine. They'd become friends quickly — late-night calls about cases, shared frustrations about the system, the kind of bond that felt like family. Until she'd burned out, quit the firm, and taken the first corporate offer that paid enough to cover her debts.

"It pays well,"

"I saw you at the cybersecurity summit last week," Marcus said. "You were the one who leaked that memo about the merger, weren't you?"

Elena finally met his gaze. "Why are you here, Marcus? To lecture me? Because if that's why—"

"I'm here because my firm is your next target."

The orange fell from her fingers.

"I'm the lead counsel on their upcoming case," he continued. "The one you've been hired to sabotage. And I need to know — before I report this — are you going to come after me, or are you still my friend?"

The café buzzed around them. Laughter, clinking dishes, ordinary lives. She thought about her bank account, the anonymity, the way she'd stopped asking who got hurt when the information moved. She thought about Marcus holding her hair back after her disastrous breakup, the way he'd defended her when no one else would.

"I won't target you," she said, and the words felt like surrender. "But I can't promise the same about the case."

Marcus nodded slowly, stood up, and left a twenty-dollar bill on the table. "That's what I thought." He paused at the door. "For what it's worth, I still hope you find your way back to who you were."

Elena sat with the half-eaten orange, its scent sharp and bitter, and realized she couldn't remember what that person looked like anymore.