By 9:30 a.m., Mara was in Cassian Vale’s office with the blinds shut, the broken MomoPod sealed under a glass cake dome from the executive dining room, and a security memo on the table declaring that she and Cassian were in a consensual workplace relationship.
“You forged this?” Mara asked.
Cassian stood by the window, tie loosened. “No. Human Resources did.”
“Why would HR think we’re dating?”
“Because someone submitted documentation. Photos. Dinner receipts. A weekend hotel booking.”
“I have never had dinner with you.”
“I remember.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means,” Cassian said carefully, “that if someone wanted us isolated from normal reporting channels, a romantic relationship would do it. Conflict protocols. Confidential interviews. Reputation leverage.”
Mara laughed once, sharp and humorless. “So the plan is to frame us as lovers before framing us as criminals.”
The MomoPod under the dome tapped one tiny plastic hand against the glass.
Cassian’s office door opened without warning.
In swept Vivienne Shore, Helix Dominion’s chief legal officer, a woman whose silver hair and velvet voice had frightened regulators on three continents.
“Well,” Vivienne said, looking from Cassian to Mara to the cake dome, “this is intimate.”
Mara folded her arms. “Do you normally enter without knocking?”
“Only when the room is full of liabilities.” Vivienne placed a tablet on the desk. On its screen was the same fake photograph from Level Forty-Two, now attached to an internal inquiry file. “You two should have disclosed your relationship before Ms. Venn began making accusations against senior leadership.”
Cassian’s expression became unreadable. “There is no relationship.”
Vivienne smiled. “There is now.”
Mara understood the trap at once. If she denied the relationship, the forged evidence made her look dishonest. If she accepted it, every complaint she had filed could be dismissed as personal drama involving an executive. Either way, her credibility died.
Then the MomoPod spoke.
“Vivienne Shore,” it chirped. “Heart rate elevated. Pupil response: fear.”
Vivienne’s smile vanished.
Cassian moved between her and the desk. “This device is defective.”
“Destroy it,” Vivienne said.
“That sounds like evidence tampering,” Mara replied.
Vivienne turned to her. “Evidence of what?”
Before Mara could answer, her phone buzzed. An unknown number had sent a video file.
She opened it.
The footage showed Elianor Pike alive, standing in a parking garage, face pale under fluorescent light.
“If you are seeing this,” Elianor said, “then I am either dead or too afraid to speak. Helix is collecting emotional response data from children through the MomoPod network. But that is not the worst of it. The data is being used to predict witness behavior in active litigation. Jurors. Whistleblowers. Grieving families. They know who will break before the trial begins.”
Mara’s throat tightened.
Elianor looked over her shoulder in the video.
“There is one witness they could not model. His name is Toby Lark. He is nine years old. He saw what happened to me.”
The video cut to static.
Vivienne’s tablet pinged. She read it, and her face changed.
“Mara,” Cassian said quietly, “behind me.”
Two security officers appeared in the doorway.
Vivienne lifted her chin. “Ms. Venn has stolen proprietary technology and threatened company counsel. Detain her.”
Cassian took Mara’s hand.
It was not romantic. It was tactical, urgent, warm.
“Run,” he said.
They ran through the private corridor behind his office, down a service stairwell, past framed magazine covers praising Helix as “the company that made machines lovable.” Behind them, alarms began to howl.
At the thirty-ninth floor landing, Mara yanked her hand free.
“You knew,” she said.
Cassian looked back at her, breathing hard.
“I knew Elianor was afraid.”
“You signed my transfer.”
“I signed it because if I fired you, Vivienne would have buried you completely. Procurement was the only department outside her surveillance grid.”
Mara wanted to hate him. It had been easier when he was only the villain in an expensive suit.
Then her phone buzzed again.
A live location pin appeared. Beneath it was a message:
TOBY LARK IS IN THE DAYCARE ON LEVEL SEVEN. THEY ARE MOVING HIM IN TEN MINUTES.
Cassian looked at the message, then at Mara.
The alarms grew louder.
Mara swallowed her fear.
“Fine,” she said. “But if we survive, I’m still suing you.”
This time, Cassian almost smiled.
“Fair.”
