Chapter 2 - The Woman Behind the Fake Account
The investigation began immediately.
Caitlyn's access was suspended.
Her devices were taken for examination.
The board demanded that Deari fire her.
He refused.
His response was simple.
“She stays.”
The board challenged him.
He ended the meeting.
Caitlyn sat alone in a small conference room, staring at her hands.
She couldn't stop shaking.
Deari entered.
She stood immediately.
“Sit.”
She sat.
“You didn't do it.”
“No.”
“I know.”
She looked at him.
“Then why did you tell everyone to suspend me?”
“Because I need the people who did this to think they succeeded.”
She frowned.
“What?”
“They expect panic.”
“You're giving them confidence.”
“Yes.”
“That's dangerous.”
“It is.”
He placed a file before her.
“Look.”
She opened it.
Her credentials had been used from three separate locations.
Chicago.
New York.
London.
She stared.
“I wasn't in any of them.”
“I know.”
“Then someone copied my identity.”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“That's what we're finding out.”
She looked at the screen.
Then noticed something.
“Wait.”
Deari leaned closer.
“The timestamp.”
“What about it?”
“All three access attempts happened seventeen minutes after I sent a calendar update.”
He stared.
“So?”
“They couldn't have access to my account unless they knew the update occurred.”
“Who received it?”
Caitlyn listed the recipients.
Deari.
Victor.
Luigi.
His legal team.
And…
Caitlyn stopped.
“Who?”
“Mrs. Dalton.”
“Who is she?”
“The head of compliance.”
Deari's expression changed.
“Bring her in.”
Mrs. Dalton denied everything.
She cried.
She blamed an IT employee.
Then disappeared before police could question her.
That was enough.
The leak was internal.
But Caitlyn noticed something else.
A small pattern.
Every fraudulent transaction was entered at exactly 3:17 a.m.
“Deari.”
He looked at her.
It was the first time she had ever used his first name.
His expression softened.
“What?”
“Three-seventeen.”
He frowned.
“All the fake transactions.”
She pointed.
“Look.”
Every file had the same time.
3:17.
Deari went still.
“That's my father's death time.”
Caitlyn looked at him.
She hadn't known.
“What happened?”
“He was killed.”
She froze.
“Killed?”
“Yes.”
“By whom?”
“I don't know.”
“You've never known?”
“No.”
She looked again.
“The person doing this wants you to remember him.”
Deari stared at the screen.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because he isn't trying to steal money.”
“What is he trying to do?”
“Destroy me.”
The threat escalated.
A car followed Caitlyn home.
Her apartment door was scratched.
A note appeared beneath it.
Stop helping him.
She didn't tell Deari.
She threw the note away.
Then the next night, someone tried the handle.
Caitlyn froze.
She called emergency services.
Before anyone arrived, a black SUV stopped outside.
Deari stepped out.
She opened the door.
“What are you doing here?”
He looked at the door.
“Your lock is damaged.”
“How did you know?”
“Victor told me.”
She swallowed.
“I'm fine.”
“No.”
“You're not supposed to interfere.”
“I changed the rules.”
“You can't.”
“I can.”
She stared.
“Why?”
He looked at her.
“Because someone is trying to scare you.”
She looked away.
“I can handle being scared.”
“That's not the point.”
“What is?”
“I don't want you to have to.”
Silence.
They stood in the tiny apartment.
Deari looked around.
One bedroom.
Small kitchen.
A table.
Two chairs.
A stack of medical bills.
A framed photograph of Caitlyn and her brother.
He picked it up.
“Tommy?”
She nodded.
“How old?”
“Twenty-four.”
“He looks happy.”
“He used to be.”
“Accident?”
“Yes.”
Deari put the photograph down.
“What happened?”
“Car accident.”
“Three years ago.”
“Yes.”
“You've paid for his care yourself.”
“Yes.”
“Why didn't you ask for help?”
She looked at him.
“Because I don't want charity.”
He nodded.
“Good.”
She frowned.
“Good?”
“I don't want to give you charity.”
“What do you want?”
“I want to pay you what you're worth.”
She stared.
“That isn't the same thing.”
“No.”
His voice softened.
“Not even close.”
She looked down.
Something inside her shifted.
Deari moved toward the door.
“Lock this.”
“I will.”
“And tomorrow?”
“What?”
“Take the day off.”
She smiled.
“Is that another order?”
“Yes.”
She laughed.
“Goodnight.”
“Goodnight.”
The next morning, Caitlyn arrived at Hamilton Enterprises.
Deari was waiting.
He handed her a cup of coffee.
She stared.
“How do you know what I drink?”
“I pay attention.”
Her cheeks warmed.
Then she noticed something.
His handwriting.
On the cup sleeve.
A single word.
Rest.
She looked at him.
“I'm not sleeping on your shoulder again.”
He almost smiled.
“I didn't ask.”
“Good.”
“Not yet.”
She froze.
For a moment, neither spoke.
Then Victor rushed in.
“Boss.”
Deari turned.
“We found the person who accessed her account.”
“Who?”
Victor handed him a file.
Deari opened it.
The employee had been dead for six months.
Silence.
Caitlyn stared.
“That isn't possible.”
Victor nodded.
“We checked.”
Deari looked at the report.
The dead man's credentials had been used.
Caitlyn whispered:
“Someone is using dead people.”
Deari nodded.
“Exactly.”
Then he turned the page.
The name beneath the deceased employee was one Caitlyn recognized.
May you like
Her father.
Her blood went cold.
Related Stories
