Corporate Amnesia
The chlorine from the rooftop pool clung to Mara's skin as she watched him from across the terrace. Thomas—her former mentor, now the man who'd dismantled her division piece by piece—stood beside the CEO, laughing at something she couldn't hear.
Three years ago, they'd been something else. Before the corporate pyramid scheme he'd engineered collapsed, taking her credibility with it. Before she discovered he'd been the corporate spy feeding their prototypes to competitors.
"You're playing a dangerous game," he'd told her once, in a different pool, in another country. His fingers had traced the line of her jaw. "Like a fox in the henhouse. Everyone sees you. No one knows what you're really after."
She'd thought he meant her ambition. Later, she understood he'd been describing himself.
The office betting pool gave her three months before she cracked or quit. They didn't know she'd already been offered Thomas's position—empty since his "promotion" to the nonexistent London branch.
The CEO waved her over. Mara adjusted her dress, suddenly aware of every eye following her movement. She'd spent months building her case: the offshore accounts, the stolen patents, the pattern of coincidences that wasn't coincidental at all.
"Mara," Thomas said, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. "You look tired."
"Sleep's been difficult," she said, not lying. "Hard to rest knowing some people never really leave."
His expression flickered—just for a moment. But it was enough.
The morning sun caught the water's surface, casting fractured light across his face. She remembered the taste of his mouth, the weight of his body, the way he'd made her believe she was special. Not special enough to spare, apparently.
"Board's meeting at eight," the CEO announced, already turning away. "Thomas, you have that presentation?"
"I'll be ready," he said.
Mara slipped into the pool. The water closed over her head, cool and absolute. For a moment, she could almost forget that tomorrow, she would destroy what was left of him.