The Leak
1180 Words
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The morning after the gala was quiet.
Too quiet.
No press buzz. No congratulatory messages. No noise.
Just silence thick enough to choke.
Eliana stood on the balcony outside Desmond’s bedroom, staring at the sunrise bleeding across the sky. The air was sharp. Still.
Inside, Desmond was on the phone his voice cold, clipped.
“Find out who accessed the security files within the last two weeks. I want the IP logs, server backups, all of it.”
He ended the call.
Eliana didn’t turn. “Any leads?”
He came to stand behind her, his chest brushing her back. “Someone inside leaked that video. The system was breached using an internal passcode.”
Her body tensed. “So someone here betrayed you.”
“Not me,” he corrected. “Us.”
That word hit different now.
Later that day, Desmond called an emergency meeting in his private boardroom.
Eliana sat beside him again but this time, no one dared question her presence.
Not after last night.
Not after her speech that saved the gala’s dignity and his entire brand from collapsing in public.
“This breach was a direct attack,” Desmond said to the table. “A calculated attempt to destroy my credibility and humiliate my wife.”
Eliana kept her face still. Watching.
Measuring.
Hartman shifted in his seat.
Of course he did.
“We have reason to believe the footage was leaked using internal credentials,” Desmond continued. “As of this moment, all staff activity will be monitored. Devices will be checked. Security access revoked and reissued to only five people.”
“Which five?” someone asked.
Desmond didn’t blink. “Myself. Eliana. Nora. My head of security. And Jason.”
“Jason?” Hartman frowned. “Isn’t he just a personal aide?”
“He’s loyal,” Eliana said.
Hartman turned toward her. “And how would you know that?”
She smiled slowly. “Because I did my homework.”
The table quieted.
She had the room now. Not just Desmond.
Her.
After the meeting, Desmond led her back to the war room.
Screens lit up. Surveillance footage from every part of the mansion and office buildings flickered across them.
He pointed at one.
“There,” he said. “This was three days before the gala.”
The footage showed someone entering the data server room.
The figure wore a hoodie, head down, face hidden.
But the badge scan flashed on-screen.
ID: Nora M.
Eliana’s stomach dropped. “No…”
Desmond’s voice was a low growl. “Her badge. Not necessarily her.”
“You trust her.”
“I did.”
He tapped another screen. “But see this?”
He zoomed in.
Nora’s badge number was used again five hours later. While Nora was logged into the mansion’s kitchen floor security.
“She was in two places at once,” Eliana whispered.
“Exactly. The badge was cloned.”
Eliana stepped back from the screen. “Then who cloned it?”
Desmond’s expression darkened. “There’s only one department with access to badge encryption.”
“Security.”
“And I know who runs that department.”
They found him in the west wing: Harold, the tech lead, mid-thirties, always quiet, always polite.
When Desmond entered with Eliana at his side, Harold rose instantly, smiling nervously.
“Sir, ma’am how can I help?”
Desmond didn’t waste time.
“Someone cloned Nora’s badge. We traced the activity to your server room. Explain.”
Harold’s eyes widened. “I—I don’t know anything about”
Desmond’s fist slammed into the desk. “Don’t lie to me.”
Harold flinched.
Eliana stepped forward, her voice calm.
“You were paid. How much?”
He froze.
She tilted her head. “It wasn’t personal. It never is. People like you don’t betray out of hate. You betray for money.”
A beat of silence.
Then—Harold crumbled.
“I didn’t know what it was,” he whispered. “I just sent the files. They said it was old footage. That it wouldn’t hurt anyone.”
“Who sent you?” Desmond asked, low and deadly.
“I don’t know. It came through a burner phone. They wired money. I—I was drowning in debt…”
Desmond’s jaw clenched. “You could’ve come to me.”
“I was scared,” Harold said.
“You should be.”
Desmond ordered security to lock Harold in a private room while they investigated further.
That night, Eliana sat on the edge of their bed, head in her hands.
She felt tired.
More than tired.
“You okay?” Desmond asked softly.
“I’m used to betrayal,” she said. “But not like this. Not when it risks everything we’ve built.”
He knelt in front of her, taking her hands. “You didn’t fail. We’re still standing.”
“But for how long?”
Desmond reached into his pocket.
Pulled out something small.
A velvet box.
Eliana’s eyes widened. “What is”
He opened it.
Inside sat a custom ring: white gold, shaped like a flame. A small emerald stone glinted at the center.
“For you,” he said. “A new ring. One that represents this version of us.”
She stared at it, speechless.
“I chose emerald,” he added, “because it’s rare. Strong. And still soft around the edges.”
Eliana swallowed. “Desmond…”
“You’ve stood beside me through storms I didn’t even prepare you for. I don’t care what the press says. I don’t care what the board whispers. I want the world to know who you are.”
He slid the ring onto her finger.
It fit perfectly.
She didn’t cry.
But something inside her finally relaxed.
And maybe just maybe believed they’d survive this.
The next morning, Eliana was in the library when Jason approached her quietly.
“There’s something you need to see,” he said.
He handed her a small flash drive.
“What’s this?”
“Security cam from the lower kitchen hall. Last night.”
Eliana plugged it into her laptop.
And what she saw made her blood run cold.
Nora.
Talking in whispers with someone in a black coat.
The footage didn’t catch the face.
But the voice recorder Jason had secretly planted nearby did.
It was female.
Sharp.
And venomous.
“She’s getting too comfortable,” the woman said. “Make her stumble. She can’t shine longer than he allows.”
Then the woman laughed. “One more crack in the glass and she’ll shatter.”
The recording ended.
Eliana’s heart pounded.
“Did Desmond hear this?” she asked.
Jason shook his head. “I came to you first.”
She stood slowly. “Thank you. But don’t tell anyone else yet. Not until we’re sure who she’s working for.”
Jason hesitated. “You think it’s the uncle again?”
Eliana stared at the screen.
“No,” she said. “I think it’s someone worse.”
- Writer
