The Information Broker

Elena smoothed the skirt of her club uniform, the polyester fabric whispering against her thighs. The Padel Club de Madrid hummed with the thwack of racquets and muted conversations of men who believed discretion was a service they purchased along with their memberships.

Three months undercover, and she still couldn't decide which was worse: the constant surveillance or the way Mateo looked at her across the bar.

"Your usual, Elena?" He asked, sliding a gin and tonic toward her. His fingers lingered on the glass. Three weeks ago, she would have called it flirting. Now she knew it was reconnaissance.

"You know me too well." She smiled, the expression practiced and hollow. Somewhere in this club, on a phone or a server or a piece of paper, existed evidence that could dismantle Herrera Consolidated. That's what she was—a corporate spy, trading secrets for a paycheck that barely justified the insomnia.

The bull market had made everyone reckless. Valuations doubled weekly, due diligence became a formality, and men like Carlos Herrera believed their own invincibility. Elena had seen the documents. The acquisition was a house of cards constructed on falsified projections and offshore accounts.

"He's asking about you," Mateo said quietly, breaking her train of thought. "Herrera. He knows you're not really a member here."

Elena's heart stuttered. "What did you tell him?"

"That you're my wife." Mateo's jaw tightened. "And that if he has a problem with you, he can take it up with me."

She stared at him. This wasn't part of the extraction protocol. None of it was—the padel lessons she'd given him, the nights they'd spent tangled in her sheets, the way he'd looked at her this morning like she was something worth protecting.

"Why?" she whispered.

"Because I'm not an idiot, Elena." His laugh was dark, resigned. "I knew what you were the first week. But I figured we were both just trying to survive the bullshit."

He walked away to serve another table. Elena watched him go, the evidence burning a hole in her bag, her career, her carefully constructed identity, everything she'd sacrificed to get here. The bull charged forward, and she had to decide: stay in the ring, or finally step aside.