Chapter 40 The footage

Chapter 40 The footage
Ethan 

Daniel was already waiting for me when I got to the parking lot, leaning against his car, sunglasses perched on his nose, coffee in one hand, looking like he just stepped out of a spy movie. “You’re late,” he called out as I got closer.

I let out a sigh and ran my fingers through my hair. “You texted me just ten minutes ago.”

“Exactly,” he shot back, a smug grin spreading across his face. “Punctuality is a lost art, my friend.”

“Remind me why I put up with you?” I grumbled.

He pushed off the car and handed me another cup of coffee. “Because I make your dull corporate life a bit more bearable. And also,” he added, lowering his voice conspiratorially, “I’ve got something you’re going to want to see.”

My interest was instantly piqued, remembering why I had come in the first place. “I’m all ears.”

He started walking toward the side entrance of the building, the one that avoided most of the employees. “Come on,” he said, and I followed, feeling a rush of adrenaline at the urgency in his tone.

Once inside, he tossed his sunglasses onto a nearby desk, leaned against it, and crossed his arms. “You remember that night, the blackout, the screams, and now the mysterious disappearance of Miss Lawson’s presentation files?”

How could I forget? Every detail was etched in my memory: her trembling voice when I found her, the fear in her eyes, the way she tried to smile and insisted she was “fine.”

“Yes,” I replied cautiously.

Daniel nodded, his expression serious. “Well, I did some digging. Checked the security logs, door access data, and camera feeds.” He paused for effect. “Guess whose name popped up accessing Zoey’s floor at 11:47 PM?”

I frowned, curiosity gnawing at me. “Who?”

“Mary Bryers.”

For a moment, the name didn’t quite register, and then it clicked. The same Mary who had beamed a little too brightly during the winner’s announcement. The one who acted like she’d just hit the jackpot.

I blinked. “She doesn’t even work on that floor.”

“Exactly.” Daniel smirked. “And she didn’t have the right clearance either. Her ID card was manually overridden. So, someone must have given her temporary access.”

A familiar weight settled in my chest. “Who?”

“That’s where it gets interesting.” He held up a small flash drive, spinning it between his fingers. “The override came from your brother’s account.”

Leo.

My jaw tightened. I didn’t say anything for a moment, just stared at the flash drive glinting under the fluorescent lights. Daniel tilted his head, gauging my reaction. “You think that’s just a coincidence?”

“No,” I finally replied, my voice barely above a whisper. “Leo doesn’t believe in coincidences.”

He chuckled softly. “Didn’t think so. But before you do something rash and noble like confronting him in front of your father, remember: the old man isn’t a fan of family drama. Especially with a PR storm on the horizon.”

I locked eyes with him. “You think I care about PR right now?”

“I think you care about her.”

I didn’t need to respond. He knew I was aware he was right.

Daniel slipped the flash drive into his pocket. “Let me take care of this my way. You head to the boardroom meeting your father just called. Keep your cool. Act like you don’t know a thing.”

I let out a heavy sigh, rubbing the back of my neck. “You want me to just sit here while Zoey gets dragged through the mud?”

“I’m asking you,” he corrected, “to hold off until I can get you solid proof that Leo was involved. Then you can blow the roof off that place and still come out looking like the composed, brilliant heir your father pretends to want.”

It stung that he was right. Even more so that I needed him to be.

“Fine,” I muttered, turning toward the hallway.

“And Ethan,” Daniel called after me.

I paused.

He flashed a grin. “Just try not to kill your brother before I get back.”

I didn’t even manage a smile.

By the time I stepped into the boardroom, the atmosphere was already thick with tension. My father sat at the head of the table, as composed as ever, his hands clasped like a judge presiding over some royal trial. Leo stood beside him, arms crossed, looking like he was ready to enjoy the spectacle.

And there was Zoey, sitting across the table. She seemed smaller than usual, as if the weight of the entire building was pressing down on her shoulders. But her chin was held high, defiant.

My father’s voice cut through the tension. “Miss Lawson, we’ve received a formal report claiming that your designs for yesterday’s competition were plagiarized.”

Zoey’s head shot up. “That’s not true.” Her voice wavered, but she stood her ground.

He clicked something on the projector remote, and a series of digital images lit up the screen. They were her designs, or at least close enough to be identical.

Except the name at the bottom read Ava Benson.

Zoey turned to Leo, disbelief written all over her face. “You know those are mine.”

Leo shrugged, a hint of sarcasm in his voice. “I get that you say that, Miss Lawson, but let’s be real, proof is what really counts.”

The nerve of that traitor!

My hands balled into fists beneath the table. I took a deep breath, reminding myself to wait for Daniel, just like I promised I would.

Zoey’s voice wavered, but she stood her ground. “Someone took my work. I had sketches, I—”

Leo’s smirk widened. “Sketches? In this day and age of cloud storage and digital files? That seems a bit reckless, don’t you think?”

Her eyes darted to me, searching for support, pleading, my heart ached. I felt trapped. Daniel was right, I couldn’t do anything without solid proof.

I couldn’t hold back any longer. “That’s enough,” I said, my voice sharper than I intended. The room fell silent. Even my father looked up.

Leo raised an eyebrow. “Got something to say, brother?”

I held his gaze steady. “Just that I don’t like it when people make accusations without any proof.”

My father’s voice was steady, but his eyes were a warning. “So, do you have proof that she’s innocent?”

I stayed quiet. Not yet.

The silence hung heavy in the air. Zoey looked at me again, that same expression from last night—part hope, part despair.

Then my phone buzzed. One message. From Daniel.

Check your email. Play the footage.