Chapter 263 Suspicion

Chapter 263 Suspicion

"I'm not doubting it—I'm basically certain."

She went through all the phone calls she'd received today in chronological order. On the other end of the line, Dashiell fell silent for a few seconds after hearing everything.

"I'll have someone check the company system's access records."

"Mr. Blackwell, I appreciate it."

After hanging up, Abigail set down her phone and pressed her fingers against her temples.

Footsteps came from the living room.

Ethan emerged from the study with a document in hand. He glanced at her.

"Have you eaten?"

"Not yet."

"Come on, let's go eat together."

The food in the kitchen had been prepared by someone Nova had arranged that morning. The two sat down facing each other, with three dishes and a soup on the table.

Abigail had just picked up her utensils when her phone rang again.

The caller ID showed an unknown number.

She stared at the screen for two seconds, didn't answer, and set the phone aside. Before she'd finished her third bite, the phone rang again.

This time it was a different number.

Ethan put down his utensils, took her phone, and pressed the answer button directly.

"Hello."

The person on the other end paused, clearly not expecting a male voice.

"Is this Ms. Thomas? I'm from Harrison Architectural Design Group—"

"She's not available to take calls right now." Ethan's tone was calm. "How did you get this number?"

The person stammered for a bit, saying they got it from a "friend," but when asked who this "friend" was, they couldn't say clearly.

Ethan wrote down the number on a piece of paper, then hung up.

Abigail looked at him.

"How many people called you today about collaboration?" he asked.

"Ten."

Ethan pushed the paper aside and picked up his utensils again.

"Let's eat first."

They finished their meal. After about ten minutes of quiet at the table, Abigail's phone rang for the eleventh time.

Ethan took the phone, scrolled through all the missed calls from today, took a screenshot, and sent it to Craig.

After sending the message, he placed the phone face-down on the table and turned to Abigail.

"Your number's been leaked."

"I know."

"We can trace it back to the source."

"I suspect it's from Summit Tech Group," Abigail said. "My resume was filed there, and my information is in their HR system."

Ethan nodded and didn't say more.

He picked up his phone again and called Craig.

"Check these caller numbers one by one. Company names, people in charge, any connection to Jason. Also, check Summit Tech Group's system access records from the past month, focus on the employee information section, see who accessed it."

Craig acknowledged on the other end.

"One more thing." Ethan paused. "Abigail's number needs to be changed. Prepare two new cards—one for private use, one for public."

After hanging up, he handed the phone back to Abigail.

"Change the number tonight. Take out the old card and leave it with me."

Abigail didn't hesitate. She opened the phone's card slot, removed the SIM card, and placed it in Ethan's hand.

"What about social media accounts?" she asked.

"Do you use Instagram, Twitter?"

"Twitter is linked to this number, and I have a public work email."

"Change the email password, pause the Twitter account for now, or switch to a different linked number. Get all this done tonight."

Abigail took out her backup phone and started working through it step by step.

Ethan sat beside her, not rushing her, occasionally glancing at the screen.

After about twenty minutes, all the settings were adjusted.

She put down the backup phone and leaned back in her chair.

"Ethan, do you think Jason did this?"

Ethan folded the paper with the caller numbers and put it in his pocket.

"Not certain yet," he said, "but he has motive. After your divorce, he's been tracking your movements. I blocked him at Southgate Estates, so he needs a new way in. By spreading your information around and having you interact with various people, he gets opportunities to approach you through them."

Abigail didn't say anything.

Ethan glanced at her.

"Scared?"

"No." Her tone was direct. "I'm just annoyed. Every time things finally quiet down for a few days, something like this happens."

Ethan reassured her, "I'll help you solve this."

The next morning, Craig compiled what he'd found and sent it to Ethan's email.

The call list had eleven numbers, representing companies from seven different industries.

But these numbers had one thing in common.

Three of the companies had collaboration records or personnel exchanges with Jason's Southgate Estates in the past six months.

Additionally, Summit Tech Group's system access logs revealed a problem.

Two weeks ago, an account logged into the HR system after work hours and accessed over two hundred employee files, including contact information, addresses, and emergency contacts.

The account belonged to Lynn.

When Abigail saw the name, her expression didn't change noticeably.

"She downloaded the data before being arrested." Craig placed the tablet in front of her. "The download time was three days before the police took her in."

Ethan leaned against the sofa armrest. After Craig finished, he didn't speak immediately.

He thought for a few seconds, then said, "How many people has that data package passed through?"

"Still checking." Craig replied. "What we can confirm so far is that someone paid for this data, then distributed it in batches to different companies. The payment came from a shell account."

"Who does the account ultimately lead back to?"

Craig paused for a moment.

"We're still tracking it, but so far the trail points to an intermediary on Jason's side."

Ethan stood up.

"Then find someone from the call list who's easy to talk to."

Craig understood what he meant.

That afternoon, Craig selected a target company.

It was the smallest one on the list. The owner was named Jacob, who did interior soft furnishings with a company of just a dozen people. Getting Abigail's project would be a rare opportunity for him.

Someone like that would be the most anxious and easiest to break through.

Craig had someone call Jacob as Abigail's assistant, saying she was free that afternoon and could meet to discuss collaboration.

Jacob's voice immediately went up half an octave.

They arranged to meet at three o'clock at a quiet business club in the west district.

Jacob arrived five minutes early, his suit freshly pressed, carrying a leather document bag stuffed with a thick stack of contracts, quotes, and even a bank card.

He waited in the private room for ten minutes.

The person who walked through the door wasn't Abigail.

It was two tall men in black suits. After entering, they closed the door, and one stood directly in front of it.

Jacob froze.

"Who are you...?"

"Sit."

One of them walked over and pulled a chair in front of him.

Jacob's legs felt weak.

"I'm here today to discuss collaboration with Ms. Thomas. Who are you?"

"Ms. Thomas doesn't have time to see you." The man sat down across from him and pushed aside the document bag he'd brought. "But we have a few questions for you."

Jacob looked up at the door. The person at the entrance still stood there, unmoving.

He was about to stand up.

"How did you get her phone number?"

Jacob stopped.

"I... got it from a friend."

"What's your friend's name?"