Chapter 81 up
“This makes no sense!”
A chair screeched loudly as someone stood up so abruptly that the sound cut through the room like a blade. “The project has been leaked, and all the trails point to Nyla.”
The conference room froze instantly.
The hum of the air conditioner felt suddenly too loud. Screens along the walls still displayed charts and timelines, frozen mid-presentation, as if even the data itself had stopped breathing.
Slowly, deliberately, Nyla lifted her head.
Her eyes moved from face to face—some openly curious, some carefully blank, others barely hiding the anticipation they’d been carrying for weeks. This moment had been waiting for her. She could feel it. Her hands rested on the table, fingers interlaced tightly, holding each other steady so they wouldn’t tremble.
“What exactly do you mean?” Nyla asked.
Her voice was calm—too calm for an accusation of that magnitude.
At the far end of the table, Rafael crossed his arms. He was a senior associate, well-connected, always careful with his words until today. “Sensitive client data was exposed. You’re new here. And your background…” He paused just long enough for the silence to sharpen. “It’s not exactly spotless.”
Several heads turned instantly.
The word background hung in the air like a sharpened hook.
Nyla exhaled quietly. This was what she’d feared—not the lie itself, but how easily a lie could be shaped into a social truth. How quickly doubt could be dressed as concern.
“If we’re talking about data,” Nyla said as she stood, her chair sliding back with a controlled scrape, “then let’s talk about facts, not assumptions.”
Rafael’s lips curved into a thin smile. “By all means. The leak occurred during your working hours.”
“And was accessed by seven other accounts,” Nyla replied without missing a beat, unlocking her tablet and projecting the screen. “Including yours, Rafael. Twenty minutes before the files appeared on the external forum.”
A sharp intake of breath rippled through the room.
Rafael stilled—for just a fraction of a second. Long enough to be noticed.
Helena, the project manager, raised her hand. Her tone was measured but firm. “Nyla, your tone—”
“I am maintaining professionalism,” Nyla interrupted, her chest tight but her voice unwavering. “What’s unprofessional is throwing accusations without a full audit.”
Pressure built behind her temples. Old memories stirred—being blamed, isolated, turned into the problem instead of the solution. The familiar instinct to shrink, to apologize just to survive.
She crushed it.
She would not break here.
Someone cleared their throat. Mira, seated two chairs down, shifted uneasily. “I… I reviewed the access logs earlier,” she said. “Nyla’s right. There were overlapping activities.”
Rafael snapped his head toward her. “Are you defending her?”
“I’m defending the data,” Mira replied quietly—but she didn’t retreat.
Nyla met Mira’s eyes briefly. Gratitude passed between them without words. Then Nyla turned back to the table.
“I came to this city to work,” she said evenly, “not to spend my time correcting people’s assumptions about my past. If that’s an issue, let’s address it openly.”
Silence fell—heavy, biting, deliberate.
Helena sighed, rubbing her temples. “No one here is judging your past, Nyla.”
Nyla looked directly at her. “With respect, that’s exactly what just happened.”
The tension thickened. Nyla could hear her heartbeat pounding in her ears, but she chose her next words carefully, as if stepping across a narrow ledge.
“I’m not asking for special treatment,” she continued. “I’m asking for fairness. If I made a mistake, I will take responsibility. But if this is an attempt to damage my reputation—then I will not stay silent.”
Rafael let out a short, humorless laugh. “You’re awfully defensive for someone who’s innocent.”
Nyla took one step forward. Not aggressive. Not rushed. Just grounded.
“And you’re awfully loud for someone confident in the truth.”
Several people held their breath.
Helena finally struck the table once with her knuckles. “Enough. We stop the speculation. A full audit will be conducted today. Until then, no accusations.”
Rafael opened his mouth to argue.
Helena’s gaze cut him off. “Including you.”
The meeting ended with a sharp tap of her pen. Chairs scraped back. Conversations resumed in hushed fragments, spreading like smoke through the room.
Nyla sat down slowly, only now feeling the weight in her shoulders as adrenaline drained away.
As people filed out, a few glances lingered on her—not with suspicion anymore, but consideration. Reassessment.
Mira stopped beside her. “You were… impressive back there.”
Nyla managed a small, tired smile. “I didn’t feel impressive.”
“You didn’t crumble,” Mira said. “That counts.”