BOUND BY THE CEO's baby

The Mole

"Someone inside my own security team." Nate's voice was flat with disbelief. "Say that again."

"I don't have a name yet," Yvonne said, already moving toward her laptop. "But that photo of Denise was taken from an angle only someone with building access could have captured. Camille didn't guess. Someone fed her real-time information."

Sophia's stomach turned over. "If she has someone watching us right now, she could already know about the countermotion. About Chen. About everything."

"Which means we need to assume every room we're standing in is compromised," Nate said grimly. "From this point forward, nothing gets discussed near hospital cameras or shared devices. Phones only, and only mine."

"That's not sustainable," Yvonne said. "You can't run a legal defense whispering in hallways forever."

"Then we find the leak fast," Nate said. "Faster than she expects."

He turned to the two security officers still posted outside Lily's door. "Both of you, badge numbers and shift logs, now. I want to know exactly who's had access to this floor tonight."

The taller officer's jaw tightened. "Sir, are you accusing us—"

"I'm accusing no one yet," Nate said. "I'm eliminating possibilities. Starting with the two people standing closest to my daughter's room."

"With respect, Mr. Hale," the second officer said carefully, "half the staff on this floor could have overheard something in the last six hours. Narrowing it down to us isn't going to find your leak any faster."

"Then help me narrow it down to someone else," Nate said. "Because right now, you're the only two people I can verify were standing outside this door all night."

The officers exchanged a look, then nodded and handed over their logs without further argument.

---

Twenty minutes later, in a private conference room three floors down, Yvonne spread three employee files across the table — the two security officers and one internal IT technician who'd had remote access to hospital camera feeds that night.

"This is going to take hours to narrow down properly," Yvonne warned. "Whoever it is, they're careful. No obvious financial red flags, no strange communication patterns on the surface."

"Then we don't wait for obvious," Nate said. "We set a trap."

Sophia looked up sharply. "What kind of trap?"

"We leak something false," Nate said. "Something specific enough that only someone with real access to this room could have heard it. If it reaches Camille within the hour, we'll know exactly who's talking."

Yvonne considered this, then nodded slowly. "It's risky. But it's fast."

"Fast is what we need," Nate said.

He turned to Sophia. "I need you to trust me on this. It means saying something out loud in this room that isn't true — something that might scare you for a few minutes until we catch whoever's listening."

Sophia's chest tightened. "What kind of something?"

Nate hesitated. "That one of the twins took a turn for the worse."

Sophia's blood ran cold. "Nate, that's—"

"I know," he said quickly. "I know how it sounds. But if Camille believes even for an hour that she's winning, she might slip. React. Give herself away before her lawyers can stop her."

"And if this staged call reaches the actual press instead of just Camille?" Sophia's voice rose. "If someone prints a false story about my daughter dying, do you have any idea what that does to her? To Noah, when he's old enough to read it?"

"It won't reach the press," Yvonne said firmly. "We control exactly who hears it and how. This isn't a real leak — it's bait, contained to this room and one planted phone call."

"You're asking me to lie about my own child's life," Sophia said, voice trembling. "Even for an hour. Even to catch her."

"I'm asking you to help me protect them," Nate said quietly, taking her hands. "I wouldn't ask if I saw another way that moved fast enough."

Sophia's hands trembled, torn between the horror of even pretending such a thing and the desperate need to catch whoever was betraying them from the inside.

"Okay," she finally whispered. "But if this backfires—"

"It won't," Nate said, though the tightness in his voice betrayed his own uncertainty.

---

The false information went out in a controlled whisper, planted deliberately in front of the IT technician during a supposedly private phone call Nate staged from the conference room: *Lily's condition destabilized. Transplant timeline moved up. Confidential — do not release.*

The technician had barely glanced up from his monitor, giving no visible reaction. Nate ended the fake call and set his phone down, exchanging a tense look with Yvonne.

"If it was him, we'll know within the hour," Yvonne said.

"And if it isn't?" Sophia asked.

"Then we've just wasted an hour we don't have," Nate admitted. "But it's the fastest lead we've got."

Forty minutes later, Yvonne's phone buzzed.

She read the screen, face draining of color.

"It worked," she said quietly. "A burner number just texted a reporter contact of mine, offering an exclusive on a 'destabilizing medical emergency involving Nathaniel Hale's daughter.' Word for word what we planted."

"Trace the number," Nate said immediately.

"Already on it." Yvonne's fingers flew across her tablet. "It's routing through a prepaid SIM, but the tower ping puts it inside this hospital. Third floor."

Sophia's stomach dropped. "Third floor is IT and administration."

Nate's face went hard as stone. "Get me the technician's badge logs. Now."

Yvonne pulled the file, scanning quickly, and then went very still.

"Nate." Her voice had dropped to barely a whisper. "The badge that scanned into the IT server room forty-two minutes ago — right after your staged call — wasn't the technician's."

"Then whose was it?"

Yvonne turned the tablet toward him slowly, dread written across her face.

Sophia leaned in to look — and felt the floor drop away beneath her.

The badge photo staring back at them wasn't a stranger.

It was Rosa.

---

"That's impossible," Sophia said, voice cracking. "Rosa's been watching my children for four years. She's family. She would never—"

"The badge doesn't lie, Sophia," Nate said quietly, though his voice carried no accusation, only dread. "Someone used her credentials. Whether that means Rosa herself, or someone who stole her access—"

"It has to be stolen," Sophia said, panic rising in her throat. "Rosa loves those kids like her own. She's the only person besides me who's ever held them at three in the morning when they were sick. There's no way she'd sell us out to Camille."

"I'm not saying she did," Nate said gently. "I'm saying someone used her badge, and we need to know why before we assume anything."

"Then we need to talk to her," Sophia said. "Immediately. Before whoever this is has time to cover their tracks any further."

She was already reaching for her phone, hands shaking as she dialed Rosa's number.

It rang. And rang.

No answer.

"She's not picking up," Sophia said, dread pooling cold and thick in her stomach. "She always picks up. Always. Even at three in the morning, even on her day off, she always picks up when it's about the kids."

Nate's jaw tightened. "Where is she right now?"

"She should be at my apartment," Sophia said. "Watching—"

She stopped cold.

"The apartment," she whispered. "Nate, if someone stole her badge, someone had to be close enough to take it. Close enough to know her schedule. Close enough to know where she'd be tonight."

Nate's blood ran cold as the same horrifying thought landed in both of their minds at once.

"Someone's been in your home," he said quietly. "Sophia — we need to get someone to your apartment right now."

"Send security," Sophia said, voice shaking. "Send anyone. I don't care what it costs."

"Already calling," Nate said, phone already at his ear, barking orders to a private security contact before Sophia could even finish her sentence.

Sophia's hands were already shaking uncontrollably as she redialed Rosa's number, pressing the phone hard against her ear, praying for an answer that didn't come.

The first attempt went straight to voicemail. She tried again, fingers trembling so badly she nearly dropped the phone.

"Come on," she whispered. "Come on, Rosa, pick up."

On the fourth ring, the call finally connected — but it wasn't Rosa's voice that answered.

It was Camille's.

"Looking for someone?" Camille's voice was calm. Amused. "Don't worry, Sophia. Your babysitter is perfectly safe. For now."

Sophia's blood turned to ice. "Where is she? What have you done?"

"Nothing yet," Camille said lightly. "Consider this a demonstration. You should have thought harder about what you were willing to risk before you dragged my name through a countermotion tonight."

"Put her on the phone," Sophia demanded, voice breaking. "Now."

"In time," Camille said. "First, you're going to listen very carefully to what happens next."

The line went silent for one terrible second.

Then Rosa's voice, shaking and afraid, came through the speaker.

"Sophia," she whispered. "Sophia, I'm so sorry — she's here, she's in the apartment, she made me—"