Goldfish in the Glass

The infinity pool at the Mandalay mirrored the burning Vegas sunset—that same electric orange that had stained the sky every evening for three weeks. Elena swirled her melting cocktail, watching Marcus across the water. He was laughing with the woman from TechCrunch, his hand too familiar on her bare shoulder. A corporate fox who'd somehow infiltrated their henhouse.

"You're staring," someone said beside her. Damon, the security consultant. His eyes held the same predatory sharpness she'd noticed during orientation. "Like a goldfish in a bowl—always watching, never remembering what you saw."

Elena stiffened. She wasn't some office spy. She was just exhausted, paranoid, and increasingly certain that Marcus was leaking their prototypes to competitors. The timing was too precise. Every breakthrough, every breakthrough—beat to market by someone else within weeks.

"I'm not staring," she lied. "I'm thinking about the merger."

"Sure." Damon stepped closer. "Want to know what I think? I think Marcus plays people like pool sharks. Misses his shots deliberately until the stakes are high enough. Then he cleans you out."

The water lapped against the pool's edge. Elena thought about how Marcus had "accidentally" left his laptop unlocked that morning, how she'd glimpsed encrypted emails to an address she didn't recognize. How he'd brought her coffee yesterday, the first time in three years, smiling like nothing was wrong.

"He's sleeping with her, you know," Damon said, following her gaze. "The TechCrunch reporter. Been doing it since San Francisco."

Elena's stomach hollowed out. She set her drink down. The orange glow of sunset deepened into purple bruises across the sky, shadows lengthening like fingers.

"Why tell me?"

"Because," Damon said, already turning away, "someone's been feeding him your quarterly projections for months. And I think you need to decide if you're the goldfish or the one holding the bowl."

Marcus waved at her from across the pool, his smile wide and empty. Elena didn't wave back. Instead, she picked up her phone and opened the security footage she'd pulled from his office. Somewhere in those hours of footage was the proof she needed. She wasn't anyone's prey tonight.