The Cat Who Knew Everything

The black cat appeared every evening at dusk, seating itself on the stone wall behind court three. Elena watched it between points, her breathing ragged, sweat dripping down her spine as she gripped the padel racket. She'd taken up the sport because Marcus suggested it—something they could do together, he'd said, before the promotion required more travel.

More travel. The words echoed in her mind like a bitter joke.

"Your serve," Julian called from across the net. He was twenty-six, devastatingly handsome, and entirely too observant. He worked in mergers and acquisitions. He knew things.

Elena tossed the ball up, missed it completely. The cat seemed to sneer.

"You're distracted," Julian said, approaching the net as the resort's palm trees swayed in the evening breeze, casting long shadows across the court. "Again."

"Just tired."

"Tired doesn't look like panic." His voice dropped. "I saw him, Elena. At the airport. With her."

The air left her lungs. She gripped the racket's handle until her palm went white. "Who?"

"The woman from the Dubai conference. She's not in pharma—she's intelligence. Private sector, but still." Julian's expression softened. "Your husband isn't cheating. He's a spy."

She laughed, hollow and incredulous. But something clicked into place—the late nights, the encrypted messages, the sudden interest in her company's proprietary algorithms. Marcus, who claimed to find corporate espionage "tacky," had been living it for three years.

"Why tell me?"

"Because someone needs to know the truth." Julian reached across the net, touched her arm gently. "And because I'm supposed to be watching you too."

She pulled away. The cat yawned, stretching languidly.

"Supposed to be?"

"I was hired to assess the risk. But I'm done lying." Julian stepped back. "Marcus has been selling your company's research for months. The deal closes Friday."

The words hit her like a physical blow. Her marriage, her trust, her work—all compromised. She looked at the padel racket in her hand, then at Julian, finally at the cat, who continued its watchful vigil from the wall, utterly indifferent to human betrayal.

"Well," she said, her voice steadying. "At least now I know who I'm playing against."