Spinach Leaves and Secrets
Elena watched the steam rise from her takeout container, spinach leaves wilting under the weight of her own exhaustion. The fluorescent office lights hummed at 3 AM, casting shadows across the empty cubicles. She'd been working the procurement account for six months, and something didn't add up.
Across the hall, Marcus's chair sat empty. Her friend since graduate school, the one who'd recommended her for this position in the first place. The same Marcus who'd casually mentioned the company's impending merger three weeks before the public announcement.
Her cat, Barnaby, would be waiting at home, probably yowling for his dinner. But Elena couldn't leave. Not yet.
The documents on her screen told a story the executives didn't want anyone to read: offshore accounts, shell companies, a trail of money leading nowhere. And there, in the metadata of a seemingly innocuous spreadsheet about supply chain logistics — a notation that made her blood run cold.
A user access log. Someone had been copying her reports, forwarding them to an encrypted server. The timestamps matched perfectly with Marcus's late nights, his helpful offer to double-check her work.
The office cat, a mangy tabby that lived in the parking garage, scratched at the glass door. Elena jumped.
She remembered Marcus bringing her spinach quiche when she was sick last month. The way he'd asked about the audit she was running, laughing off his questions as harmless curiosity. All this time, he'd been grooming her, positioning himself as the confidant while feeding information to whoever was paying him.
Corporate espionage. Her oldest friend in the city was a spy.
Elena's hands trembled as she attached the evidence to an email addressed to the company's legal department. She'd lose her job for blowing the whistle, probably her career in this industry. Marcus would lose everything.
The spinach congealed on her desk as she pressed send.
Somewhere, Barnaby would be sleeping, innocent of betrayal. Elena wished she could say the same.