Chapter 6 - Someone Inside the CompanyBy nine the following morning, my face was everywhere.
Again.
Apparently becoming the wife of a billionaire meant the internet never permanently lost interest in destroying your peace.
LEPRINCE WIFE LINKED TO INFANT FORMULA RECALL.
CEO’S PREGNANT SPOUSE APPROVED CONTROVERSIAL SUPPLIER.
NEPOTISM CRISIS AT LEPRINCE CORP.
I sat at our kitchen island wearing Andrew’s oversized shirt, one hand around a cup of decaffeinated coffee I was not actually drinking while Oliver happily smashed pieces of banana into his high-chair tray.
Andrew stood near the windows talking to three lawyers simultaneously.
“No statement about Elila individually,” he said. “The company takes responsibility as an institution.”
Pause.
“No.”
Another pause.
“I understand what investors want. My answer remains no.”
He hung up.
His jaw was tight.
I already knew what the lawyers had suggested.
“They want me suspended.”
Andrew turned.
“They want what is easiest.”
“Which is suspending me.”
“You didn’t do anything.”
“The public doesn’t know that.”
“I don’t care what the public knows.”
“I do.”
He came toward me.
“Why?”
“Because this isn’t just about me anymore.”
I glanced toward Oliver.
He had somehow gotten banana into his hair.
Again.
Our daughter moved faintly inside me, as if reminding me she was part of the conversation too.
“I won’t let our children grow up seeing headlines saying their mother endangered babies because she married the right man.”
“They won’t.”
“How can you promise that?”
“Because I’ll fix it.”
There it was.
The sentence Andrew always said.
The sentence that once made me feel safe.
Now, unexpectedly, it made something inside me resist.
“No.”
He frowned.
“No?”
“You are not fixing this for me.”
“Elila.”
“I mean it.”
I got up.
The movement was less graceful now that my belly had begun rounding visibly, but I ignored it.
“Someone stole my credentials. Someone chose my name. If you solve everything while I sit home protected by your security team, people will always wonder whether you buried something.”
“That’s absurd.”
“It’s realistic.”
“Elila, you are pregnant.”
“You mention that approximately every eight minutes.”
“Because you are.”
“And still possess a functioning brain.”
His nostrils flared slightly.
That was Andrew’s version of losing patience.
Oliver slammed both palms on his tray.
“Da!”
I pointed at him.
“Your son agrees with me.”
“He says ‘Da’ when the dishwasher starts.”
“Support is support.”
Andrew stared at me for several seconds.
Then, despite himself, the corner of his mouth moved.
The tension broke just enough.
I walked over and placed my hands against his chest.
“I need you as my husband.”
His expression softened.
“And?”
“Not as my rescuer.”
That sentence settled between us.
He covered my hands with his.
“I don’t know if I know how to separate those things.”
“I know.”
“I almost lost you once because someone decided hurting you was the fastest way to hurt me.”
Phoebe.
Hospital.
Premature contractions.
The memory still had enough power to tighten my chest.
“This is different.”
“How?”
“Because I’m different.”
He studied my face.
And eventually, reluctantly, nodded.
“Okay.”
I blinked.
“That was suspiciously easy.”
“I’m learning marriage.”
“Terrifying.”
“But security goes with you.”
“Andrew—”
“Marriage. Compromise.”
I sighed.
“Fine.”
By ten-thirty, I was back at Leprince Corp.
The atmosphere had changed completely overnight.
Yesterday, people had welcomed me.
Today conversations stopped when I entered rooms.
Some employees looked sympathetic.
Others looked uncomfortable.
A few looked suspicious.
That hurt more than I expected.
Especially when I passed two junior researchers whispering near the coffee station and clearly heard the words special treatment.
I kept walking.
Running would have been easier.
I had spent so much of my early relationship with Andrew running from difficult things.
Not today.
Victoria was already waiting in the secured conference room with our cybersecurity director, Nathan Cho.
Nathan was forty, permanently exhausted-looking, and probably consumed more caffeine than medically recommended.
He pushed three screens toward me.
“The authorization came from your account.”
“I know.”
“The biometric confirmation was valid.”
“How?”
“We’re investigating.”
“No. I mean physically. My biometric credentials require my fingerprint.”
Nathan looked uncomfortable.
“Unless someone cloned an authenticated session.”
Victoria leaned forward.
“Explain.”
“If Dr. Leprince logged into a company device and left a valid session token active, someone with sufficient access could potentially duplicate it.”
“I was on maternity leave.”
Nathan nodded.
“Which actually makes this more suspicious. Your account shouldn’t have been active at all.”
He opened another log.
“But six weeks ago, your identity authenticated through workstation R-17.”
I recognized it immediately.
“My old laboratory station.”
“Yes.”
“Camera footage?”
Nathan grimaced.
“Deleted.”
Andrew, who had insisted on attending but had so far remained silent at my request, finally spoke.
“Deleted by whom?”
“We don’t know yet.”
“You have backups.”
“Normally.”
Andrew’s expression cooled.
“Normally?”
Nathan swallowed.
“Backup footage for that corridor was corrupted during a server migration.”
“That is a remarkable coincidence,” Victoria said.
“It isn’t a coincidence,” I answered.
Everyone looked at me.
“Think about it. Whoever did this didn’t just steal my credentials. They chose an old workstation connected directly to my employment history. They waited until I was on leave. They altered surveillance backups. Then they authorized a supplier known for falsifying quality records.”
Victoria nodded slowly.
“They planned the failure.”
“Exactly.”
Andrew folded his arms.
“To accomplish what?”
I looked at him.
“You.”
He went still.
“Or the company.”
I continued.
“A contaminated or unstable infant product is catastrophic reputationally. But attaching my name makes it personal. It creates accusations of nepotism and weak governance.”
Nathan added quietly, “Stock is down eleven percent since yesterday.”
Victoria looked grim.
“And Beaumont Foods is up four.”
Everyone turned toward her.
She immediately understood what we were thinking.
“You think Beaumont is involved?”
“You worked there,” I said carefully. “Would they do something like this?”
Her expression hardened.
“Not officially.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“No.”
She looked at Andrew.
“Beaumont lost three major distribution contracts to Leprince last year. Your infant nutrition division directly threatens their strongest market.”
Andrew’s jaw tightened.
“Who at Beaumont knew you were joining us?”
“Everyone.”
“Who would know Harrow Ingredients?”
Victoria hesitated.
Then gave us a name.
“Marcus Hale.”
I looked at her.
“Hale?”
“My older brother.”
Silence.
Andrew’s eyes narrowed.
“You never mentioned your brother runs procurement strategy at Beaumont.”
“I disclosed it during hiring.”
“To Human Resources.”
“Yes.”
“You should have disclosed it directly to me.”
Victoria’s voice cooled.
“Why? Because relatives automatically make someone untrustworthy?”
I felt the tension immediately.
Andrew did too.
Victoria looked at me.
Then something like regret passed through her expression.
“My brother and I haven’t spoken in nearly three years.”
“What happened?” I asked.
“Professional disagreement.”
“That sounds diplomatic.”
“It is.”
Victoria leaned back.
“Marcus believed there was nothing wrong with using technically compliant but lower-standard suppliers if profit justified it. I disagreed. Strongly.”
“Harrow?”
Her jaw tightened.
“I was the one who removed them.”
Now everything became more complicated.
Before anyone could continue, Nathan’s phone buzzed.
He looked at the screen.
Then at me.
“That’s strange.”
“What?”
“We found another access attempt.”
“When?”
“Seven minutes ago.”
Cold traveled down my spine.
“My account?”
“No.”
He looked toward Andrew.
“Mr. Leprince’s.”
Andrew immediately took out his phone.
Nathan shook his head.
“Not through your device.”
He started typing rapidly.
“Someone tried accessing executive financial archives using your credentials from inside headquarters.”
“Can you locate it?”
“Trying.”
The seconds dragged.
Then Nathan stopped.
“Twenty-third floor.”
Andrew’s executive level.
Security moved instantly.
The building locked internal elevators.
Three guards headed upstairs.
I felt our daughter shift inside me as adrenaline flooded my body.
Five minutes later, Nathan’s phone rang.
He answered.
Listened.
His expression changed.
“What?”
Andrew demanded.
Nathan lowered the phone.
“They found the terminal.”
“And?”
“No one there.”
My stomach sank.
Then he added, “It’s Victoria’s office.”
The room became silent.
Victoria stared at him.
“That’s impossible.”
Andrew did not move.
His expression revealed nothing.
Nathan continued carefully.
“The login attempt came from your workstation.”
Victoria stood abruptly.
“I was here.”
“I know,” Nathan said.
“Then someone entered my office.”
“Security badge logs show nobody entered after you left this morning.”
Her face lost color.
I suddenly understood exactly how she felt.
Yesterday, my digital identity had been used to frame me.
Today, hers.
Someone was moving pieces around us.
Creating distrust.
Separating us.
I looked from Victoria to Andrew.
“Don’t.”
Andrew’s eyes moved to me.
“Don’t what?”
“Suspect her just because that’s what the evidence wants you to do.”
Victoria looked at me sharply.
I continued.
“Someone used my identity yesterday. We know credentials can be manipulated. Why would we suddenly treat hers differently?”
Nathan nodded reluctantly.
“She’s right.”
Andrew remained silent.
Victoria’s posture was rigid.
“Search my office,” she said.
“Victoria—” I began.
“No. Search everything. Computer. Phone. Files. Whatever you need.”
Her gaze moved to Andrew.
“If someone is trying to frame me, I want them found.”
Andrew finally nodded.
“Do it.”
It took another hour.
We discovered nothing in Victoria’s office.
Nothing except one thing.
A tiny wireless device attached behind her workstation.
Nathan held it inside an evidence bag.
“Hardware keylogger.”
My stomach turned.
“How long has it been there?”
“Could be weeks.”
“So someone could capture every password she typed?”
“Yes.”
Victoria looked physically sick.
Then Nathan’s assistant entered carrying another bag.
“We found a second one.”
“Where?”
The assistant looked at me.
“Dr. Leprince’s old workstation.”
My blood ran cold.
Two devices.
Two framed executives.
A deliberate operation.
Andrew came beside me, his hand finding the small of my back.
This time, I did not object.
I needed the contact.
Nathan looked toward the door.
“Only employees with physical access to both research and executive floors could plant these.”
“How many people?” Andrew asked.
“About eighty.”
Victoria gave a humorless laugh.
“Wonderful. Only eighty suspects.”
I stared through the conference-room glass at hundreds of employees moving through the building.
People I worked beside.
People who smiled at me.
Someone inside Leprince Corp had deliberately risked the company’s reputation.
Possibly the safety of infants.
And whoever they were, they had planned months ahead.
Then my phone vibrated.
Unknown number.
A message.
I opened it.
My heart stopped.
A photograph filled the screen.
Oliver.
Our son.
Playing in the park with his nanny earlier that morning.
Taken from a distance.
Below it were seven words.
STOP LOOKING, OR FAMILY COMES BEFORE COMPANY.
I could not breathe.
Andrew saw my face.
“Elila?”
I handed him the phone.
The transformation in him was immediate.
I had seen Andrew angry.
I had seen him terrified.
I had seen him ruthless in business.
I had never seen what appeared in his eyes then.
Pure, murderous cold.
Victoria whispered, “Oh my God.”
Andrew took out his phone.
“Lock down the house. Bring Oliver inside. Double security on every entrance.”
He looked at me.
“You’re coming home.”
Every instinct in me wanted to argue.
To say I would not be intimidated.
Then I looked at the photograph of our baby.
The fight disappeared.
Not because I was weak.
Because there were things more important than pride.
“I’m coming home.”
Andrew squeezed my hand.
But as security surrounded us and escorted us toward the private elevator, I looked once more at the threatening message.
Whoever had sent it had made a mistake.
A very serious one.
They thought threatening my son would make me stop.
May you like
They did not understand mothers very well.
It did the opposite.
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