Chapter 83 Missing Reports
Xander
Max’s voice still echoes in my head long after the mind-link goes quiet.
"Oliver’s statements seem to be missing."
For a second, I don’t move.
Then I stand up abruptly, startling Vanessa.
"Hey, what's wrong?" she asks, a look of concern on her face.
"An issue just came up that I need to attend to."
"Oh." A look of disappointment crosses her features. I can't say I don't feel the same way. I also hate the fact that something had to interrupt our moment, but this is important.
I reach out to cup her face. "Hey, I'm sorry it has to be like this. I'll make it up to you, I promise."
"How?" she asks skeptically.
I think it over for a few seconds. "A date? Let's go for a date after this?"
Her face brightens instantly and she nods. "Okay."
I smile and give her a quick kiss on lips, chuckling when she continues to follow even when I pull away.
The moment I enter the mansion, I turn sharply and head straight for the archive room, my legs fast and purposeful. It's the kind of movement that doesn’t leave room for doubt, because there’s only one way this ends, which is with answers.
The door swings open under my hand, the room greeting me with its usual order. Shelves lined neatly, cabinets untouched. Everything exactly where it should be.
Too exact.
Too… normal.
I move straight to the archive cabinet without hesitation, pulling the drawer open in one smooth motion.
My eyes scan the contents immediately. The files are arranged exactly how they should be – in alphabetical order, organized and precise.
I run my fingers along the labeled tabs, flipping through them again, slower this time, as if the missing piece might magically reappear if I give it enough attention. Unfortunately, it doesn’t.
Then again.
My movements grow more deliberate, more methodical. Every file is pulled slightly forward, every label double-checked, every possible misplacement accounted for.
Nothing.
Oliver’s statement from weeks ago should be here. I remember placing it myself. But now, it's gone.
I check again.
Then again.
The space where it should be sits empty, looking like nothing is out of place, but I know better. I close the drawer slowly, the soft click echoing louder than it should.
For a moment, I just stand there, staring at the cabinet like it might offer an explanation. It doesn’t. A quiet exhale leaves me as I straighten. The drawers slid shut with a soft click.
Behind me, the door opens again, but I don’t turn, already knowing who it is.
Max steps inside, his presence settling into the room with that same casual ease he always carries.
“Please tell me you found it and I’m about to look stupid,” he says.
I don’t respond immediately, because I’m still staring at the cabinet.
Still replaying the memory in my head and trying to find the moment where this stopped making sense.
“It’s not here,” I say finally.
Max exhales quietly. “Yeah. Figured.”
Now I turn, my gaze lands on him, steady and sharp. “You said seems,” I point out.
"Uh, what?"
"When you mind-linked me, you said it 'seems' it was missing."
"Oh." He avoids eye contact, then shrugs slightly. “I was hoping I missed something.”
“So was I," I admit.
Silence settles between us. It wasn't heavy or light, but something in between. Something… aware.
I turn back to the cabinet, pulling the drawer open again despite already knowing what I’ll find. An empty space; neat, clean and deliberate.
Max steps closer this time, leaning slightly to look inside. “You sure it was archived?” he asks.
“Yes," I reply without hesitation, or doubt.
He studies my face for a second, then nods. “Alright.”
He knows I wouldn’t be wrong about something like this. I slide the drawer shut again, slower this time.
Thinking.
“Two weeks,” I say, rage filling me at the realization and I clench my hands into fists.
Max hums. “That’s a long time for something to go unnoticed.”
"I agree."
He shifts his weight, arms crossing loosely.
“There has to be something else there for it to have been taken. Do you remember the contents asides his statement?” he asks.
I pause, because that’s the problem. “I don’t remember everything,” I admit.
His brow lifts slightly.
“I just remember enough,” I say, my voice tightening just a fraction.
That’s the part that sticks. The urgency and the instinct to archive it immediately. Not later, eventually.
“Alright,” he says again, quieter this time. “So if it’s not here…”
“It was moved,” I finish.
“Or taken,” he adds.
I meet his gaze.
“Same thing. Different intent.”
A small smirk tugs at his mouth. “Fair." But his eyes don’t match it. They’re sharper now, more focused. He’s taking this seriously.
“Who has access?” I ask.
“Inner circle. Senior guards. Anyone you’ve cleared,” he replies easily which that now narrows it.
But not if it's still not enough. “Logs?” I ask and Max’s expression shifts slightly.
"It should be in the system.”
I don’t comment on it. Instead, I move toward the computer, already pulling it to life. The screen flickers on.
Data loads, access records –Dates, names, times. I scan quickly at first. Then slower, and more carefully.
Max steps up beside me, close enough to see the screen?
“You’re looking for what exactly?” he asks.
“Anything that doesn’t belong.”
He huffs lightly. “That’s really helpful.”
I ignore him.
Because something is already catching my attention.
A gap.
It's small and easy to miss, but still there.
I lean forward slightly, narrowing my eyes.
“…That’s strange.”
Max shifts closer to also take a look. “What is it?”
I tap the screen. “Cabinet access logs.”
He scans it. “These look normal to me, though.”
“No,” I say quietly. “It doesn’t.”
I scroll back, then forward again, tracking the pattern and the rhythm of entries; access, time, name.
They all look consistent and predictable.
Until, it breaks, right where it shouldn’t.
“There’s a missing entry,” I say.
Max frowns. "What do you mean?”
“Meaning someone accessed the cabinet…” I pause, letting it settle, “…and it wasn’t recorded.”
Silence.
This time, it lands heavy.
Max straightens slightly. “That’s not possible.”
“No,” I agree. “It’s not supposed to be.”
But it happened. Which means someone didn’t just take the file, they erased the trace of taking it.
I lean back in the chair, eyes still fixed on the screen.
The unease from earlier sharpens into something colder, cleaner.
Max exhales slowly, running a hand down his face. “Alright,” he says. “That’s…a problem.”
“It definitely is.”
“Okay. So either someone with access did this…” he starts, and for some reason, his voice quivers.
“Or someone with enough skill to bypass the system,” I finish.
“Which is worse?”
I glance at him. “They’re both terrible.”
He nods once. “Fair enough.”
I close the system and the screen goes dark, but unfortunately, the answer doesn’t come with it.
If anything, the absence of it makes everything louder, more obvious, and more wrong.
This is something that had been done deliberately, calculated. Someone took that file and no one noticed.
Not even me.
That alone is a problem.
But what’s worse, is the why.
Good thing we're going to do this our own way.
“Start with access lists,” I say to Max. “Everyone who could’ve gotten in in the past two weeks.”
Max nods. “I’ll handle it.”
“I’ll review everything Oliver worked on before that report.”
“Divide and conquer,” he mutters.
“Exactly.”
He goes to work immediately, but pauses at the door, glancing back at me.
“You know this is going to get messy, right?”
I don’t hesitate. “It already is.”
He grimaces, then he’s gone.
The door shuts behind him, and I’m left alone with the silence, and the realization sitting heavy in my chest.
This wasn’t an accident. It wasn’t a mistake nor was it intentional. Which means someone somewhere is hiding something.
And now that I’ve seen the gap, I’m going to tear through every layer of this place until I find it.
I also won't forgive them no matter what.