CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT
The week settled into a rhythm of watchfulness. Briella moved through each day with the careful choreography of someone who had learned to hide alarm behind purpose. Christopher’s team ran covert sweeps; Marcellus doubled down on internal security; Clara became Briella’s quiet sentinel—checking, double-checking, noting everything that might otherwise be dismissed.
By midmorning the boardroom felt smaller than it should have, every face in the room carrying an extra edge. Briella read through a presentation while two screens at the front displayed the mirrored logs Christopher’s team had set up. Red flags pulsed faintly on the timeline like warning beacons.
“Here,” Clara murmured, drawing Briella’s attention to a cluster of entries. “See how the proxy pings always com
