Oliva pov
I pulled open my bottom desk drawer, pulled out the binder containing the complete, raw, unarchived logistics database for the entire Eastern region, and opened a blank spreadsheet on my computer screen.
The sabotage hadn't stopped at the Apex presentation. When I had checked the shared drive again at five PM, three other master folders—including the Q3 vendor contracts and the regional fuel budget projections—had been corrupted or moved to restricted archives.
Someone wanted me to look completely useless by tomorrow morning's nine AM executive briefing.
"If they want a fight," I whispered to the empty room, my fingers striking the plastic keys, "they're going to have to work harder than this."
I worked straight through nine o'clock. Then ten o'clock. Then eleven.
My eyes b
