He always thought he was smarter than everyone else. The corner office, with its panoramic view of the city, the tailored suits, the envious glances—none of it satisfied him. But he wanted more: more money, more power, more freedom.
Years of mastering the system led him to craft a meticulous scheme. Tiny adjustments, unnoticed tweaks. A few thousand here, a few thousand there. “No one will miss it,” he mused, imagining the fattening stacks of cash in his secret accounts. The cool metal of his desk, the hum of the office air conditioning—these were the tools of his empire, and he was the king.
His schemes grew bolder, like a tightrope walker daring to balance ever higher over an abyss.
Millions disappeared into offshore accounts, masked by a web of fake companies.
To the outside world, he was a financial wizard. To him, it was all just a game—and he was winning. He thought he was winning.
Emily Clark was a quiet analyst with an eye for detail, spotted a discrepancy.
She didn’t become an analyst by chance. She grew up in a small town where honesty and hard work were the only currency people had. Her father was a local schoolteacher and her mother was a nurse who always put others before herself.
Emily was still a teenager when she learnt that integrity was more valuable than wealth. She was that kind of child who never told a lie, not even a small one. Boring to many, but happy with herself.
That day, the numbers didn’t add up. Emily’s fingers drummed against her keyboard, her heart racing like a frantic metronome. The office was dimly lit by the flickering fluorescent lights. The aroma of good coffee mingled with the mustiness of old files, creating a heavy atmosphere that made her skin crawl. She adjusted her glasses, the cool metal against her nose offering little relief from the tension.
A significant sum was missing, and the records were pristine. Mistakes were rare, she knew. This felt deliberate.
Her mind wavered. Adam Rhodes was a big shot. Who’d believe her over him?
"Emily, are you okay?" her colleague, Mark, asked, peering over her cubicle. His voice was laced with concern, cutting through the oppressive silence of the office.
"I’m fine," she said, forcing a smile. "Just… digging into something odd."
Mark raised an eyebrow. "Odd like ‘I need a vacation’ or odd like ‘we’ve got a problem’?"
"More like a problem," Emily replied, her voice low and tight.
Yet, she couldn’t ignore it. Her conscience jabbed at her like a persistent splinter.