"All I need is the prototype breakdown. Just enough to give her competitors a head start. Nothing too obvious. You’ll be careful, of course."
Susan didn’t take the envelope.
So Darla sighed... not irritated, but almost bored.
"Let tell you a little secret." She set down her tea with a soft clink. "Jean thinks she’s free. That she’s finally built a life without the Adams na." Her gaze sharpened. "But people like her don’t get happy endings. Not while I’m alive."
The girl looked down at her lap. "If I do this... she’ll be ruined."
Darla lifted one elegant brow. "And your career? It’ll go exactly where I decide it should."
A beat of silence.
Then the envelope was taken.
Darla smiled.
Victory was best served with lemon and silence.
___________________________
Later that night...
The office floor was dark, bathed in blue security lights that cast long shadows across the marble.
Susan’s heels were muffled under the carpeted hall as she crept down the corridor, clutching a slim black tote pressed tightly to her side. Her breathing was shallow. Fast.
She knew exactly where the files were.
Jean’s private office... the drawer marked ’A37.’
She had morized everything from the quick glance during a staff eting. And Darla had been very, very specific.
Just get the internal prototype notes. The product formula specs. Take a photo. Get out.
Easy money.
Susan reached the office door.
Pulled out the master keycard she "borrowed" from the archive intern for the night. A quiet beep and the lock gave in.
She slipped inside.
Jean’s office was pristine even in the dark... the room faintly slling of vanilla and dried flowers.
Susan rushed toward the desk.
It should be here!
She didn’t notice the tiny red light blinking from the ceiling cara above her. Didn’t hear the soft footsteps beyond the double doors.
Her fingers were fumbling through folders when.. click.
The lights flooded on.
"Looking for sothing?"
Susan froze.
Her head snapped up, and her heart plumted.
Standing in the doorway was Jean Adams... arms crossed, gaze cold as stone, expression unreadable.
Beside her, Hannah Kingsley, phone still in hand, and behind them...
Logan.
Tall. Silent. Deadly calm.
Two mbers of the security team stood behind them, eyes trained on Susan like hawks.
Susan dropped the folder in her hands.
"I-I can explain... Mrs Kingsley."
"Explain to the cara," Hannah cut in, voice sharper than usual. "We’ve been filming you since you stepped in."
Jean stepped forward slowly, her heels echoing like a verdict. "You really thought you could steal from ?"
Susan’s face turned pale.
"It was just... just information. I didn’t an to hurt you..."
Jean didn’t blink.
"You didn’t care who it hurt. That’s the difference between you and ."
Susan looked around frantically, eyes darting toward Logan.
"Please... please don’t involve the police..."
Jean raised a hand. "We won’t."
Hope flickered on Susan’s face.
Until Jean added... "Not yet. First, you’ll tell us everything. Who sent you? What they wanted. Word for word. Every text. Every email. Or I will press charges for corporate espionage and breach of trust."
Logan stepped forward finally, his voice low. "You were never invisible, Susan. You were just sloppy."
Susan’s eyes welled up. She knew it was over.
_________________________
Susan sat in the leather chair across from Jean’s desk... the sa one she’d snuck into earlier.
Now she was flanked by Logan and Hannah, the security team just outside the door. The office was silent except for the low hum of the AC and the ticking of Jean’s minimalist wall clock.
Jean hadn’t said a word in the last three minutes.
She just watched.
Letting silence press on Susan like a weight.
Finally...
"You have one chance," Jean said, voice asured. "Talk."
Susan’s voice cracked. "I-It was Mrs. Adams... Darla Adams. She approached a few weeks ago."
Jean’s eyes darkened. But she gave no other reaction. As if she expected it. "Go on."
"She knew I was interning here. Said if I could... leak just one launch plan or upcoming product formula, she’d make sure I had a career in one of the top companies... connections, offers, even overseas placents."
Logan scoffed under his breath. "A walking bribe."
Hannah’s arms were folded tightly, her jaw clenched.
"Did she pay you?" Jean asked.
Susan hesitated. Then nodded. "Half upfront. The rest after."
"And this wasn’t her first ti?"
"No," Susan admitted. "She told to do all these, all the leaks. She even gave Emma’s credentials."
Jean held up a hand.
"I don’t need her history. Just tell what she wanted from this leak."
Susan’s voice shook as she pulled her phone out of her pocket and placed it on the desk.
"She asked for the full composition file for your next launch. Said it was being rushed and the competition would offer sothing better before you could announce it."
Logan leaned forward, resting his arms on the desk. His voice was colder than steel.
"Did she ntion where the information would go?"
Susan nodded. "She has a contact at City Fashion. I think... Diane Von."
That made Hannah react... her eyes widened.
Jean’s face remained still.
Deadly calm.
She reached forward, unlocked Susan’s phone, and scrolled through the texts.
Darla’s number. ssages. Instructions. Even a veiled threat. "Don’t make regret giving you a future."
Jean turned the phone around to Logan. "Enough to bury her?"
Logan nodded once. "Easily."
Jean stood slowly.
Walked around the desk. Stopped directly in front of Susan.
"You’re fired."
Susan’s eyes filled again. "Please... Jean... I didn’t..."
"No." The word was sharp. Final.
Jean leaned in, her voice barely above a whisper.
"You ca into my ho. My sanctuary. And tried to ruin what I built with my bare hands. That... was your last mistake."
__________________________
The penthouse was quiet... too quiet for most but Darla found it comforting. Silence was the one thing she could trust not to disappoint.
A glass of vintage red wine rested in her hand, the stem poised delicately between manicured fingers. She stood by the window, gazing out over the city like it belonged to her.
It used to.
Before Jean.
Before her supposed daughter... her rebellious, ungrateful, disgracefully self-sufficient daughter... decided to sever every string that once held her up like a doll.
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