Chapter 4 - The Manager Who Knew Exactly Where Khloe Lived

By eight thirty, Khloe had received three emails from Martin.

The first asked if she was sick.

The second reminded her that quarterly reviews were coming.

The third said they needed to discuss “professional boundaries.”

Khloe showed Victor.

“He knows I spoke to you.”

“Probably.”

“How?”

Victor looked at the conference room ceiling.

“Your office access may be monitored.”

“My work laptop?”

“Possibly.”

Khloe closed it.

“Great.”

Victor’s security team provided a clean device.

She hated how quickly she accepted it.

Fear had a way of reorganizing principles.

They reviewed her company’s system logs.

The hidden Mercer account had accessed personnel files.

Khloe’s home address.

Emergency contacts.

Payroll.

Travel requests.

It had also downloaded a scan of her driver’s license.

She felt exposed in a way the threatening texts had not managed.

“Whoever controls that account knows everything my employer knows about me.”

Victor said, “Yes.”

“You say terrifying things very calmly.”

“Panic does not improve facts.”

“It sometimes improves speed.”

A faint smile.

“Also true.”

Khloe checked access history.

The account had opened her file repeatedly over six months.

More often after the Russo shipment discrepancy.

Then one access stood out.

Three days before the restaurant confrontation.

Her building address had been viewed at 11:02 p.m.

Martin’s office badge showed him leaving work at 7:14.

Khloe checked whether he could have logged in remotely. The security system showed no approved remote session, which meant either his credentials had been stolen or he had deliberately created a path someone else could use.

Neither option made her feel better.

So someone else used the account.

Khloe looked at Victor.

“Liam?”

“Maybe.”

She appreciated the maybe.

Victor’s phone rang.

He answered, listened, then looked at Khloe.

“Your manager just reported you for theft of confidential company records.”

Her mouth fell open.

“What?”

For three years Martin had praised her for documenting everything. He had once written in a performance review that her refusal to take shortcuts made her irritating in the most useful possible way. Now the same habits could be repackaged as misconduct.

The betrayal was almost impressively efficient.

“He claims you copied proprietary shipment data and shared it with a client.”

“I did share shipment data with you.”

“Data from my own shipments.”

“Still confidential under our contract.”

Victor’s expression stayed neutral.

“He is building a reason to fire you.”

Khloe stood.

“I need to go in.”

“No.”

“If I disappear now, he controls the story.”

Victor considered.

“You want to confront him?”

“I want access before they revoke me.”

“That could already be done.”

“Then I want to see what they’re hiding.”

He stared at her long enough to make her uncomfortable.

“You do this often?”

“What?”

“Walk toward dangerous things because being underestimated irritates you.”

“I work in logistics. Mostly I walk toward spreadsheets.”

“That was not my impression.”

They compromised.

Khloe would go to her office.

Victor would not enter.

Two of his people would remain nearby.

She insisted they look like normal people.

Victor said, “They do.”

“They look like men who know where to bury furniture.”

“That is still normal in some industries.”

She laughed despite herself.

At the office, everything felt ordinary.

Printers.

Coffee.

Muted complaints.

Then Martin stepped out of his office.

His smile was too careful.

“Khloe. We need to talk.”

“Good.”

He gestured inside.

She left the door open.

Martin noticed.

“Close it.”

“No.”

His jaw tightened.

“I received a complaint that you disclosed client data.”

“The client complained I disclosed its own data to itself?”

“That is not the point.”

“What is the point?”

His expression changed.

For months she had seen him as patient and paternal.

Now she saw strain beneath it.

“Give me your laptop.”

“It’s at home.”

“Badge.”

“Why?”

“You’re suspended pending investigation.”

Khloe removed the badge.

Then she noticed the leather folio on his desk.

A corner of paper protruded.

Russo Maritime logo.

Martin saw her looking.

He placed one hand over it.

Too late.

“Why do you have their internal manifest?”

“Leave.”

“That isn’t from our system.”

“Khloe.”

She stepped backward.

A phone began vibrating inside his desk drawer.

Martin ignored it.

It stopped.

Then hers buzzed.

Unknown number.

She opened the message.

STOP DIGGING.

Khloe looked at Martin.

His face was blank.

The desk phone rang.

He answered.

A male voice spoke loudly enough for Khloe to hear one sentence.

“She’s standing right there, isn’t she?”

Liam.

Martin’s eyes met hers.

Khloe ran.

He caught her sleeve at the door.

She twisted free.

Two coworkers stood in the hallway, frozen.

“Call security!” she shouted.

Martin lunged again.

Before he reached her, another man stepped between them.

Victor’s security.

Normal-looking, apparently, if one ignored how fast he moved.

Martin stopped.

Khloe backed toward the elevators.

Her phone buzzed again.

A photograph appeared.

Not of her.

Of her sister’s house.

Her niece stood on the front porch.

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