Beneath the Mask

An Unseen Enemy

Sophie’s POV

My hands trembled as I clutched the email on my phone. James wanted me to return to work tomorrow.

After everything he said—how he yelled at me, humiliated me, called me incompetent—he wanted me back?

I wasn’t sure if I should feel relieved or insulted. But I did know one thing: going back to that office wasn’t a simple decision.

The events of the last 24 hours were still raw. First, my brother’s emergency, the haunting messages from Richard, then the Delnut presentation that spiraled into disaster. And James—his cutting words still echoed in my mind, each one sharper than the last.

“You’re slow, disorganized, and incompetent. You’ve ruined my company’s reputation.”

My chest tightened as I remembered how small I felt standing there in his office, unable to defend myself. He didn’t even give me a chance to explain about Michael.

My brother.

I closed my eyes, trying to calm the whirlwind of emotions. I’d spent the last two years proving myself to James, putting everything into that job to support Michael after our parents’ deaths. It wasn’t glamorous, but it was stable, and I’d grown to care about the work, even about James a little.

But yesterday? Yesterday made me question everything.

For a moment, I forgot all about Richard’s taunting messages and just wondered how the contract with Delnut enterprises got rejected and why they called me incompetent, useless and other names when back in Singapore, we concluded in a friendly note.

I had barely slept after leaving Blackwood Enterprises. I spent the evening pacing my apartment, trying to figure out how everything went so wrong. Michael, recovering from a panic attack, had reassured me that I had done nothing wrong.

“Stop blaming yourself, Soph,” he said softly, his voice still hoarse. “You didn’t mess up. You’ve always been the most reliable person I know.”

His words should’ve comforted me, but they didn’t. I kept replaying the way James had looked at me, as if I were nothing but a problem he needed to eliminate.

Then came the hospital.

I hadn’t expected to see James there, of all places. But the moment I recognized his aunt, I knew I couldn’t leave. She was struggling to breathe, clutching her chest, and instinct took over. I found her inhaler in her bag, called an ambulance, and stayed with her until help arrived.

When James stormed into the hospital room and started yelling at me, I almost broke down. But his aunt intervened, and for the first time since the whole ordeal began, someone stood up for me.

Still, the damage was done. Even after his reluctant apology, I left the hospital feeling hollow.

Now, as I sat at my small kitchen table staring at the email, I felt torn. Going back to work would mean facing James again, but it also meant securing Michael’s future.

Just as I was weighing my options, my phone buzzed.

“Hello?” I answered hesitantly.

“Sophie, it’s Elise.”

Elise was one of the receptionists at Blackwood Enterprises. We weren’t particularly close, but we occasionally chatted during breaks.

“I shouldn’t be calling,” she whispered, her tone urgent, “but I thought you should know something.”

I frowned. “What is it?”

“James has been digging through records all day. Something about Delnut Enterprises and the deals you’ve worked on. He looked furious, Sophie. Like he’s piecing something together.”

A chill ran down my spine. “Why are you telling me this?”

“I think…” She hesitated. “I think he’s starting to realize you weren’t at fault.”

I gripped the phone tightly. “Do you know what he found?”

“No, but Sophie, just be careful. Things are getting strange around here.”

The line went dead, leaving me with more questions than answers.

By the time I went to bed, my mind was still spinning. If James was investigating, did that mean he believed me? Or was he just looking for another reason to hold me accountable?

Morning came too quickly, and with it, a sense of dread. I had no intention of returning to Blackwood Enterprises without answers.

But I also couldn’t ignore the email.

By mid-morning, I decided to go back, not to resume work but to confront James. I needed clarity—for myself, for Michael, and for the truth.

The office felt different as I walked through the glass doors. Colleagues who once greeted me warmly now averted their eyes, whispering behind their hands.

I made my way to James’s office, knocking lightly before stepping inside.

He looked up from his desk, his expression unreadable.

“Sophie,” he said, his voice unusually calm.

“I got your email,” I began, keeping my tone steady despite my nerves. “But I need to know why you want me back.”

James leaned back in his chair, studying me intently. “Sit down.”

I hesitated but eventually sank into the chair opposite him.

“I’ve been reviewing everything from the Delnut deal,” he said slowly. “There are… inconsistencies.”

“What kind of inconsistencies?”

He tapped his pen against the desk, a habit I’d come to associate with his frustration. “For one, Delnut claims they never received the final presentation.”

My heart sank. “I gave it to the courier myself. I double-checked the address, confirmed delivery—”

“I know,” he interrupted.

I blinked, caught off guard.

“That’s why I’m starting to think this wasn’t your fault.”

His admission should have felt like a victory, but it only deepened my unease. “Then whose fault is it?”

James hesitated, his gaze sharpening. “That’s what I’m trying to figure out. But I’ve found a pattern. Several deals you’ve worked on in the past year—ones that went south—seem to tie back to the same competitor.”

“Who?” I asked, leaning forward.

“Westbridge Consulting,” he said grimly.

The name sent a jolt through me. Westbridge was one of our fiercest rivals, always circling our clients like sharks.

“What does that have to do with me?” I asked, my voice rising.

“I don’t know yet,” James admitted. “But someone is using you as a scapegoat. Either they’re intercepting your work, sabotaging it, or manipulating clients into thinking you’re incompetent.”

The weight of his words pressed down on me. “Why would someone do that?”

“Because you’re an easy target,” he said bluntly. “You’re quiet, you keep to yourself, and you’re not in a position to fight back.”

His words stung, but I couldn’t argue with them.

“Do you have proof?” I asked.

“Not yet. But I’m working on it.”

The tension in the room was suffocating.

“So what happens now?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

James leaned forward, his expression intense. “Now, we fight back. But I need you to trust me, Sophie.”

Trust him? After everything?

Before I could respond, there was a knock at the door. Elise poked her head in, her face pale.

“Mr. Blackwood,” she said nervously. “There’s a package for you. It’s marked urgent.”

James frowned, gesturing for her to bring it in.

As Elise set the package on the desk, a strange sense of foreboding washed over me.

James tore it open, revealing a stack of documents. His eyes scanned the first page, and I watched as his face darkened.

“What is it?” I asked, unable to contain my curiosity.

He didn’t answer immediately, instead flipping through the pages with increasing urgency. Finally, he looked up, his expression grim.

“It’s a letter from Delnut,” he said. “And it’s not just about the deal.”

My stomach churned. “What do you mean?”

He handed me the top page. My eyes skimmed the text, and the blood drained from my face.

The letter detailed a series of emails allegedly sent from my account—emails undermining the company, questioning James’s leadership, and, worst of all, offering insider information to Westbridge Consulting.

“But I didn’t send these!” I protested, my voice trembling.

“I know,” James said, his voice tight with anger. “Because I checked the metadata. These emails were fabricated.”

My breath caught in my throat. Someone had gone to extraordinary lengths to frame me.

“Who would do this?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

James’s jaw clenched. “That’s what we’re going to find out.”

As he spoke, his phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen, and his expression shifted.

“Stay here,” he said abruptly, standing and heading toward the door.

“Where are you going?” I called after him.

He paused, his hand on the doorframe. “To confront the person I think is behind this.”

And then he was gone, leaving me alone with the damning documents and a sinking feeling that things were about to get much worse.