Cracks In The Glass
679 Words
The morning buzz at Locke Industries pulsed with urgency.
Phones rang faster. Keyboards clicked harder. Assistants shuffled across the floor with tight expressions and whispering voices. Something was wrong, and everyone felt it.
Amira sensed it the moment she stepped out of the elevator.
She hadn’t even reached her desk before Nia, a sharp-witted assistant two desks down, grabbed her arm. “Where’ve you been?”
“Killian called me in earlier. What’s going on?”
“You don’t know?” Nia’s voice lowered. “The press is running a story. Something about leaked internal documents. Numbers. Confidential accounts. It’s all over the blogs.”
Amira’s stomach dropped. “Leaked?”
“They’re calling it a breach. IT’s been in crisis mode since dawn.”
The floor-to-ceiling glass office doors of Killian’s private suite slammed shut behind a parade of top executives. From inside, muffled voices argued. Killian’s stood out—calm, clipped, but unmistakably sharp.
For the first time since she’d met him, he didn’t look composed. He looked hunted.
And that made something cold settle in her chest.
Killian’s jaw was locked tight as the legal team laid out what they knew.
“This wasn’t just a hack,” Rena Morales, head of corporate legal, said. “The leak is too precise. Selective. Someone targeted specific offshore records—nothing random, nothing traceable.”
“An insider?” Killian asked.
“That’s what it looks like.”
He didn’t respond immediately. Just leaned forward and steepled his fingers in front of his mouth.
Someone inside his company had handed sensitive data to the press. That wasn’t just betrayal—it was a message.
And he had a good idea who might be behind it.
This wasn’t about business. This was personal.
Amira tried to focus on typing up a schedule, but her eyes kept darting toward the office.
Something in her gut twisted. She knew tension when she saw it. She’d lived it.
At home, it had been slammed doors, hushed conversations, and silent dinners. Here, it was locked meetings, unreadable glances, and coffee cups left cold on untouched desks.
She wasn’t sure what was happening, but she felt it in the air—this was more than a company glitch.
And part of her knew she shouldn’t get involved.
But another part—the stubborn, loyal part that had kept her afloat all her life—wanted to help.
So she did something dangerous.
She listened.
Not by eavesdropping. But by noticing. By watching how people moved, who they avoided, which faces were suddenly too calm.
By the end of the day, she had a short list in her notebook.
She didn’t know what she’d do with it yet. But she wasn’t about to let this place burn without trying to understand why.
Later that night, Killian poured over a dossier in his penthouse.
A familiar name had popped up on the list of people tied to the leaked accounts—someone he’d once trusted. Someone he’d cut off years ago.
But like most ghosts, they didn’t stay buried.
This wasn’t about money. It was about exposing him. Weakening him.
And the timing wasn’t random either.
He thought of Amira, sitting outside his office every day. She was observant. Quiet. Unafraid to speak her mind when pushed.
And lately, his mind had been returning to her more than it should.
He didn’t know if she was a liability or the only person who hadn’t lied to him yet.
And that made her dangerous—for entirely different reasons.
The next day, Amira received a call on her lunch break. It was a blocked number.
She hesitated before answering.
“Miss Callahan,” said a distorted voice on the other end. “I know where you work now. Might be time to decide whose side you’re really on.”
Click.
She stared at the phone, blood pounding in her ears.
For the second time in her life, someone was trying to control her with secrets.
But this time, she wasn’t the same girl.
And she wasn’t running.
- Writer
