By ten fifteen, I had convinced myself that Sophia Bennett meant absolutely nothing to me.

That was why I checked Alexander’s calendar six times.

Pure professionalism.

Obviously.

His office door remained closed.

No assistant went in.

No one came out.

And every time I passed the hallway, I could see Sophia’s expensive coat hanging beside Alexander’s.

Perfect.

Wonderful.

Completely irrelevant.

At eleven, my phone buzzed.

Alexander.

COME TO MY OFFICE.

No greeting.

No explanation.

Just an order.

I stood outside his door for five seconds before knocking.

“Come in.”

Sophia was sitting across from him.

One coffee was empty.

The other sat untouched beside Alexander’s hand.

I hated that detail more than I wanted to admit.

Alexander gestured toward the empty chair.

“Sit.”

I remained standing.

“What do you need, Mr. Grant?”

His eyes lifted.

Mr. Grant.

Good.

Let him hear exactly how far away I intended to stay.

Sophia smiled.

“You must be Emily.”

That irritated me immediately.

“How do you know my name?”

She looked at Alexander.

He answered for her.

“She’s here because of you.”

I froze.

“Excuse me?”

Sophia reached into her handbag and placed a folder on the desk.

Inside were photographs.

Me leaving Alexander’s building that morning.

Me entering his car.

Me stepping out a street away from the office.

My stomach dropped.

“What is this?”

Sophia crossed one leg over the other.

“I work in crisis management.”

I looked at Alexander.

“You hired her?”

“Last night.”

My anger flared.

“Last night?”

His expression remained unreadable.

“Yes.”

“So while I was sleeping, you were arranging someone to clean up your mistake?”

Something flashed in his eyes.

Sophia suddenly looked very interested in the wall.

Alexander stood.

“You are not a mistake.”

I laughed.

“That isn’t what you said this morning.”

Silence.

Sophia quietly closed the folder.

“I can come back.”

“No,” Alexander said.

“Yes,” I said at exactly the same time.

She raised an eyebrow.

Then stood.

“I’ll be outside.”

When the door closed, I turned on him.

“You told me not to take anything seriously. Then you hired a crisis manager before sunrise?”

“This company has photographers outside it almost every day.”

“And?”

“And if someone connects us, they won’t attack me.”

His voice hardened.

“They’ll attack you.”

That stopped me.

Alexander came around the desk.

“You manage artists. You know exactly how this works.”

“I can handle rumors.”

“I know.”

“Then why Sophia?”

“Because I don’t want you handling them alone.”

For one dangerous second, the man from breakfast appeared again.

The one who made oatmeal.

The one who turned the fan toward me.

Then I remembered his words in the car.

Excellent service.

I stepped back.

“You don’t get to act protective after making me feel cheap.”

His jaw tightened.

“I shouldn’t have said that.”

“No.”

“You were talking to another man.”

I stared at him.

Then laughed in disbelief.

“Daniel?”

Alexander looked away.

Oh.

Oh, this was unbelievable.

“You were jealous.”

“No.”

“You absolutely were.”

“I was irritated.”

“Because?”

“He called you and you smiled.”

I folded my arms.

“And somehow that justified insulting me?”

“No.”

For once, he didn’t defend himself.

That took some of the anger out of me.

Not all of it.

Before I could respond, Sophia knocked and reentered.

Her expression had changed.

“This might be a bad time.”

Alexander immediately returned to CEO mode.

“What happened?”

She placed her phone on the desk.

A gossip account had posted a blurry photograph of Alexander’s car from that morning.

The caption read:

GRANT MEDIA CEO SPOTTED DROPPING OFF MYSTERY WOMAN AFTER LATE NIGHT.

My face went cold.

Sophia swiped to the next image.

This one showed me getting out.

My face was partially visible.

“I can contain it,” Sophia said. “But there’s another issue.”

“What?” I asked.

She looked at me carefully.

“Someone sent the account your full name.”

Alexander’s expression darkened.

“How?”

“We’re finding out.”

Then my own phone buzzed.

Daniel.

I almost ignored it.

But something made me answer.

“Daniel?”

His voice was urgent.

“Emily, are you at Grant Media?”

“Yes.”

“You need to be careful.”

I frowned.

“Why?”

There was a pause.

“Because Sophia Bennett is there, isn’t she?”

I slowly looked at her.

“How do you know Sophia?”

Alexander’s eyes sharpened.

Daniel exhaled.

“She used to work for my firm.”

Sophia’s face changed.

“Put him on speaker,” she said.

I did.

Daniel continued.

“Emily, Sophia isn’t just a crisis consultant.”

Alexander said coldly, “Then what is she?”

Daniel answered:

“She investigates internal corporate leaks.”

The room went silent.

Sophia slowly sat down.

Alexander stared at her.

“You told me you were here for media containment.”

“I am.”

“That isn’t the whole reason.”

“No.”

She reached back into her folder.

This time, she pulled out a financial report.

“I came because someone inside Grant Media has been selling confidential artist contracts.”

My stomach tightened.

I handled those contracts.

Sophia looked directly at me.

“And whoever is doing it has been using Emily’s login credentials.”

Alexander went completely still.

I felt the blood leave my face.

“That’s impossible.”

Sophia turned the report toward me.

Every access log carried my employee ID.

Every download happened late at night.

And every leak occurred on evenings when I had been with Alexander.

I looked up.

“You think I did this?”

Alexander answered immediately.

“No.”

Too quickly.

Too certainly.

Sophia noticed.

So did I.

“Why are you so sure?” she asked.

Alexander stared at the report.

Then said something I never expected.

“Because Emily’s account has been monitored for three weeks.”

I turned toward him.

“What?”

His expression became grim.

“I knew someone was using her credentials before last night.”

My chest tightened.

“And you didn’t tell me?”

“I was trying to find out who.”

Sophia pushed one final document toward him.

“Well, now we know.”

At the bottom was a security-access record.

One name appeared repeatedly outside my office after midnight.

Alexander read it.

Then looked at me.

His face changed.

I stepped closer.

“Who is it?”

He turned the page toward me.

The name belonged to the last person I expected.

Daniel Carter.

My old university friend.

The man who had just returned from overseas.

The man who had called that morning and invited me to dinner.

And beneath his name was something even worse.

A temporary executive-access authorization.

Approved personally by:

ALEXANDER GRANT.

I looked at Alexander.

His expression went rigid.

“You authorized him?”

He didn’t answer.

Sophia did.

“No.”

She pointed at the digital signature.

“Someone forged Alexander’s approval.”

My phone buzzed again.

Another message from Daniel.

DINNER TONIGHT. DON’T TELL YOUR BOSS.

And attached beneath it was a photograph of Alexander and Sophia taken through the glass wall of his office.

From inside our building.