The Fox in the Glass

The palm of her hand still tingled from where he'd pressed the iPhone into it, the device warm from his pocket—or perhaps from his urgency. "Take it," David had whispered, his breath carrying the scent of peppermint and desperation. "They're monitoring everything."

She stood in the office restroom, staring at her reflection. The woman in the mirror looked like a stranger—eyes too wide, hat slightly askew, something feral flickering behind her pupils. A fox, she thought. That's what he'd called her last night, tangled in sheets that smelled like hotel laundry and bad decisions. "You're a fox, Elena. Clever. Beautiful. Dangerous."

Now, looking at the incriminating texts on his phone—messages between him and the CEO, discussing her promotion in terms that made her stomach twist—she understood the real meaning behind the compliment. A fox to be hunted, or perhaps a fox to be unleashed upon competitors. Either way, she was still an animal in their forest.

She thought about the palm reader she'd visited on a whim during her last business trip to New Orleans. The old woman had traced the lines on her hand, shaking her head. "You have two paths," she'd said in her raspy voice. "One leads to everything you've worked for. The other leads to yourself."

At the time, Elena had laughed. Now, with David's iPhone in her hand and the weight of corporate espionage pressing against her chest, she wasn't laughing anymore.

She could forward these emails to HR. Let them burn it all down—the company, David's career, her own promotion. Or she could delete them, slip the phone back into David's pocket during the gala tonight, and continue playing the game.

Her fingers hovered over the screen. Outside, she could hear the hum of the office, the distant chatter of colleagues who had no idea they were characters in someone else's drama.

Elena looked at her palm again, at the lines the old woman had traced. Then she made her choice.

She dropped the phone into the trash can, adjusted her hat, and walked out to face whatever came next—foxlike, cunning, and finally, entirely herself.