Chapter 11 CRISIS MODE
POV: Selena
The car barely stopped before security yanked the door open and waved me through.
Voices clashed around the estate gates. Cameras flashed. Reporters shouted questions into the dark, their words sharp and overlapping. I ducked my head and moved fast, heart pounding, trying to keep up as a guard hurried me toward the house.
This was not what Adrian meant by everything exploding. This was worse.
I had one thought on repeat as I crossed the grounds. I did not leak anything. I knew that with certainty. But certainty felt weak in a place already burning.
Inside, the estate no longer felt controlled. Staff rushed past each other. Phones rang nonstop. Someone was crying quietly near the staircase. The calm power I had seen here before was gone, replaced by panic dressed up as order.
Mrs. Patterson spotted me immediately. She moved toward me with a tight expression, her posture rigid.
“You made it,” she said. “Good. Stay close.”
“What is happening?” I asked.
She did not answer right away. She led me into a smaller sitting room and shut the door. Only then did she speak.
“A journalist published a piece less than an hour ago,” she said. “Offshore accounts. Shell companies. Illegal transfers tied to foundation funds.”
The words hit me hard.
“That is not possible,” I said automatically. “The accounts I reviewed were clean.”
Her mouth tightened. “Not all of them were disclosed to the foundation team.”
My stomach dropped. “You mean there were hidden accounts.”
“Yes.”
I felt cold all over. The numbers I had flagged. The altered projections. The pressure to stay quiet. It all snapped into place too quickly.
“There is already talk of criminal investigation,” Mrs. Patterson continued. “If prosecutors move forward, it will not just damage the family. It could destroy the foundation entirely.”
“And Adrian?” I asked.
She hesitated. That was answer enough.
Before I could say anything else, the door opened.
Adrian stepped in, eyes dark, jaw tight. He looked like he had not slept. He crossed the room in three strides and stopped in front of me.
“Are you alright?” he asked.
“I think so,” I said. “What did you find out?”
“Enough to know this is deliberate,” he replied. “And timed.”
A knock interrupted us. Hard. Insistent.
A man entered without waiting for permission. Tall. Sharp suit. Sharp eyes. He carried himself like someone used to being obeyed.
“This is Jake Morrison,” Mrs. Patterson said quietly. “The family’s crisis manager.”
Jake’s gaze swept the room and landed on me. He did not soften.
“We do not have time,” he said. “Reporters are circling. Investigators are calling. We need to identify the source of the leak immediately.”
“I did not leak anything,” I said, before anyone could ask.
Jake raised an eyebrow. “You are the intern who reviewed financial reports. Correct?”
“Yes,” I said. “But I do not have access to everything. I flagged inconsistencies and reported them internally.”
“Convenient,” he replied.
Adrian stepped forward. “That is enough.”
Jake did not look at him. “Internal access combined with external pressure creates risk. Especially when someone has no prior loyalty to the family.”
My chest tightened. “I have loyalty to the truth,” I said.
Jake finally looked directly at me. His stare felt invasive, like he was peeling me apart layer by layer.
“Then you will not mind answering a few questions,” he said.
Mrs. Patterson shifted uncomfortably. Adrian’s hands clenched at his sides.
Jake pulled out his phone and scrolled. “The article references altered projections and internal reviews. That information came from somewhere.”
I thought of the envelope. The photo of my mother. The warning.
Someone had set this up.
“I noticed changes,” I said carefully. “I reported them to Adrian. That is it.”
Jake turned sharply. “So you admit you knew something was wrong.”
“Yes,” I said. “And I did what I was supposed to do.”
“Or,” he countered, “you created plausible deniability.”
“That is not true,” I said, my voice shaking despite my effort to keep it steady.
Adrian stepped between us. “She did her job. If someone leaked information, it was not Selena.”
Jake’s eyes narrowed. “You are too close to this.”
Adrian did not back down. “And you are too quick to blame.”
The tension in the room thickened. I felt small, exposed, like I was standing under a spotlight I did not ask for.
A shout echoed from the hall. Someone yelled about a prosecutor on the line. Another voice mentioned frozen accounts.
Jake exhaled sharply. “This family is facing political destruction,” he said. “Someone handed our enemies a weapon.”
He turned back to me and pointed.
“You have been working on the financial reports,” he said. “What did you leak?”
The room went silent.
Every eye turned toward me.
My breath caught, fear and anger crashing together. I had walked into chaos, but I was not the cause of it. Still, in that moment, it did not matter what was true. It mattered what they needed to believe.
And right now, they needed a suspect.