Chapter Twelve
It started with a headline.
Not on the front page.
Not bold.
But deliberate.
THORNE INDUSTRIES CEO UNDER INTERNAL SCRUTINY — QUESTIONS OF EXECUTIVE BIAS SURFACE
I saw it on Elena's tablet before anyone said a word.
The executive floor felt different that morning. Not tense — sharpened. Like everyone was waiting for a blade to drop.
Julian hadn't arrived yet.
Which meant one thing.
He was already dealing with it.
"Elena," I said quietly, "how bad is it?"
She didn't look up immediately. When she did, her composure was thinner than usual.
"It's contained," she said.
"That's not what I asked."
Her eyes met mine.
"It's strategic," she corrected.
Which meant it was targeted.
I scanned the article quickly.
No names.
No direct accusations.
But phrases stood out
