BOARDROOM BETRAYAL: The CEO’s Enemy

Episode 4: The Sticky Note

Lunch break came as a brief escape from the glass walls and constant hum of the executive floor. I sat in the quiet corner of the break room with my phone, pretending to scroll while I actually reopened the shared drive on my laptop. The activity log for the 07-19 Archive still showed that single late-night access from an admin account. The timestamp was well after I had left the building — around 11:47 p.m. Someone else had tried to open the folder the same night I first saw it.

My stomach tightened. Was it Vesper checking his own secrets? Or someone else in the company who knew the files held dangerous history? The thought brought a quiet wave of loneliness. Here I was, digging into the past that destroyed my family, with no one to share the small victories or the growing risks. My father would have listened quietly over coffee, offering steady encouragement. Now it was just me, carrying the weight alone.

I closed the log quickly and returned to my desk, pushing the feeling down with the same determination that had kept me going for five years. Revenge wasn’t supposed to feel this isolating.

The afternoon brought more routine tasks, but Vesper assigned me something new: helping organize a set of “historical reference” files for an upcoming strategy review. Not the restricted archive itself, but close enough that my pulse quickened when I opened the folder. Most documents were generic old contracts, but as I sorted through them, a single loose sticky note slipped out from between two pages.

It was in Vesper’s sharp, slanted handwriting.

“07-19 – Why is it still active?”

The question mark at the end looked almost frustrated, as if he himself was puzzled or concerned about the folder remaining accessible in any way. I stared at the note for a long moment, heart beating unevenly. He wasn’t just keeping trophies. He was actively thinking about it — maybe even worried.

A quiet frustration bloomed in my chest. Yesterday I had watched him calmly steer the team through the morning crisis, his voice steady and decisive, his shoulders only briefly rolling as if shaking off exhaustion. It was such a human gesture, so relatable in its tiredness. The monster who had ruined my father wasn’t supposed to look tired or capable of doubt. Seeing that side of him made my hatred feel messier, less clean. It annoyed me deeply that any part of me could notice — or even respect — the way he carried pressure.

I slipped the sticky note back exactly where I found it and continued sorting, but my mind raced. If Vesper was questioning why the 07-19 files were still active, did that mean he wanted them gone for good? Or was he protecting something bigger inside them — something even he couldn’t fully control anymore?

Margaret passed by later, carrying a fresh cup of black coffee for Vesper. She paused at my desk, her voice low.

“You’re doing well, Elena. Just remember… some files in this building have a way of biting back when you get too close.”

Her words landed with quiet weight. I nodded politely, but inside the loneliness mixed with fresh resolve. I was getting closer, yet every step felt more unpredictable than the last.

As the day wound down, I glanced through the glass wall one last time. Vesper was still at his desk, focused on his screen with that same precise intensity. For a fleeting second, I wondered what it cost him to keep so many secrets buried.

I pushed the thought away immediately. That kind of curiosity was dangerous.

But as I powered down my computer and headed for the elevator, one question refused to leave my mind:

If Vesper himself was questioning the 07-19 archive… what exactly was he afraid might resurface?