Chapter 4
Someone had copied a legitimate session.
“How?”
“Physical access is the easiest explanation.”
“To my laptop?”
“Or to the backup codes.”
I remembered the empty rectangle in Nathan’s drawer.
“What kind of backup codes?”
“When we installed multifactor authentication, you printed emergency recovery codes.”
I did remember.
I had sealed them inside an envelope and placed them in the fireproof box in our home office.
The same box Nathan knew how to open.
My stomach tightened.
“Can you see what files were downloaded?”
Evan nodded.
“That’s why I wanted you here.”
He opened another report.
The first unauthorized session had accessed a folder named Blue Heron.
That had been a hotel renovation bid in Virginia.
We lost it.
The next session accessed the Winston Retail expansion strategy.
We lost that too.
Then came Red Maple Hospitality.
Lost.
Haven House.
Lost.
Morrison Collective.
Lost.
The pattern continued.
Not every stolen document corresponded to a lost client, but enough did.
Somebody wasn’t browsing.
They were selecting.
Evan leaned back.
“Whoever is doing this understands what matters.”
My throat felt dry.
“Brynn has asked about nearly every one of those projects.”
“Does she work in design?”
“Not directly.”
Brynn had spent years in corporate event marketing before leaving her agency the previous winter.
She told me she was freelancing.
Whenever I asked what she was working on, she joked that she was “professionally unemployed.”
I had never questioned it.
“What about your husband?” Evan asked.
“Nathan works in commercial finance.”
“Could he understand this material?”
“Yes.”
“Could he know which projects were valuable?”
“Yes.”
Saying it aloud hurt more than I expected.
Evan closed the laptop.
“I’m going to install a monitoring layer on your account.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means we don’t stop them yet.”
I looked at him.
“We let them come back?”
“We let them think nothing has changed.”
He explained that he could create invisible alerts for specific folders, record the device fingerprint in more detail, and flag any file copied or opened by the unauthorized account.
Then he gave me a warning.
“If this involves your husband and your friend, stop thinking about this as personal drama.”
I almost smiled at the phrase.
Personal drama.
Fifteen years of friendship and eleven years of marriage had just been reduced to an incident response.
Maybe that was exactly what I needed.
“What should I think of it as?”
“A breach.”
That word helped.
A breach could be documented.
A breach could be contained.
A breach could be proved.
At 8:12, Nathan finally texted me.
“Where are you?”
“At work.”
A few seconds later, the typing bubble appeared.
Then disappeared.
Then appeared again.
“You left early.”
“I had things to do.”
That was all I gave him.
Brynn sent nothing.
I wondered if the two of them were sitting together somewhere comparing my silence.
At 9:03, Evan’s laptop chimed.
He looked down.
Then his eyebrows rose.
“They’re back.”
My entire body went rigid.
“Right now?”
“Right now.”
The unidentified device had connected from my home network.
Nathan was home.
I leaned toward the screen.
“What are they opening?”
Evan watched the activity populate in real time.
“Financial forecasts.”
Another line appeared.
“Ownership records.”
Then another.
“Employment agreements.”
I felt something shift in my chest.
Those weren’t client proposals.
“Why would they want employment agreements?”
“I don’t know.”
The next file opened.
Executive compensation.
Then shareholder documents.
May you like
Then a folder containing the paperwork from a potential investment I had discussed confidentially with a regional development group.
Only four people knew about that conversation.
