Troy sat behind his polished mahogany desk, a slow, satisfied smile creeping onto his lips as the latest headlines flashed across his computer screen. The media frenzy around Cinz's abuse scandal was growing, each report chipping away at Kamila Vernz's newly built empire. The more the story spread, the more he was convinced that Gabriel's downfall was near. To Troy, it was a long-overdue reckoning. And he was eager to watch it unfold.
But he wasn't content to wait passively.
He had already planted a spy deep inside Cinz—a junior staffer posing as an eager but inconspicuous employee. The spy's name was Mike, a young man with an affable smile and the kind of blend-in demeanour that made him nearly invisible in the office crowd. Troy had sent him in with clear orders: gather as much intel as possible, and report everything.
Mike quickly settled into the daily rhythm of Cinz. He made small talk, joined casual coffee breaks, and smiled when others did. When he gently broached the topic of the abuse scandal, his coworkers' responses were a mixture of cautious whispers and outright warnings.
"Careful what you ask," one said, lowering her voice near the water cooler. "HR doesn't take kindly to gossip here. They've made it clear. But… yeah, there's more than just that one case."
Mike's eyes flickered with interest. He noted down every detail—the hushed names, the vague references, the frightened glances exchanged when certain topics surfaced. The atmosphere was thick with fear and silence, a fragile mask covering a deeper rot.
This was exactly what Troy wanted.
The spy's reports confirmed there were more victims—more stories buried under layers of corporate protection and intimidation. If Troy could get all of them, expose them one by one, Kamila's grip on Cinz would shatter completely.
Meanwhile, back at home, the atmosphere was worlds away from boardroom conspiracies and corporate espionage.
Callum's small bedroom was bathed in the gentle morning light filtering through the curtains. The little boy blinked awake, rubbing his eyes in surprise when he saw his mother sleeping beside his bed. For a moment, he was caught between happiness and confusion—happy because she was here, yet sad because it was so rare.
"Mom?" he whispered, his voice soft but full of wonder.
Kamila's eyes fluttered open, and she smiled weakly. "Hey, sweetheart," she murmured, brushing a stray curl from his forehead. "Sorry I didn't make it to bed last night."
Callum's face brightened. "Did you miss me?"
She chuckled softly, the sound tender and full of love. "I missed you so much."
The boy's little hand found hers, squeezing gently. "Are you preparing me for school today?"
Kamila nodded, a spark of determination lighting her tired eyes. "Yes. I promised, didn't I?"
The morning routine was slow but sweet. Kamila helped Callum get dressed, making sure his tie was straight, and his backpack was zipped tight. She fixed his hair, adjusted his collar, and even packed his lunch with care.
Watching him wave goodbye as he stepped out the door, backpack bouncing with youthful energy, Kamila felt a brief but precious moment of peace. This was what she fought for—moments like these.
But the phone call that came the moment she closed the door shattered that calm.
"Kamila," George's voice was urgent on the other end. "You need to see this."
"George?" Kamila's heart quickened. "What is it?"
"I've uncovered something on the security footage. Something big."
Her breath hitched. "I'm on my way."