“Local?”
“Yes.”
“Camera?”
Security opened hallway footage.
The CFO’s office door was closed.
No one entered for twenty minutes.
But the CFO himself appeared on another camera downstairs.
In the cafeteria.
The workstation was being controlled remotely.
Daniel whispered:
“Frame number three.”
Former CTO.
Alexandra.
Now CFO.
Someone was cycling blame through executives.
The attacker wanted confusion more than secrecy.
Daniel traced the remote-control origin.
Board presentation network.
Alexandra felt cold.
“Board floor.”
“Yes.”
Security moved.
No announcement.
No radio chatter.
Three officers went upstairs.
The board floor was mostly empty.
Except one conference room.
Inside sat Alexandra’s executive assistant.
The woman who had worked beside her for six years.
She had two laptops open.
One was not company property.
When security entered, she did not run.
She simply closed her eyes.
Alexandra watched through the camera.
“No.”
Daniel looked toward her.
She barely heard him.
Her assistant had been there during her mother’s surgery.
Remembered birthdays.
Stayed in hotels beside Alexandra during hostile negotiations.
Helped prepare her CEO interviews.
She was more than staff.
Alexandra had trusted her with nearly every private detail of her professional life.
Security called.
“We have her.”
Alexandra’s voice was flat.
“Bring her downstairs.”
Daniel stood.
“You don’t have to do this now.”
“Yes.”
“Let investigators handle it.”
“No.”
He caught her arm.
She turned sharply.
“Let go.”
He did.
But he stepped in front of her.
“You’re angry.”
“She betrayed me.”
“Yes.”
“That gives her no right—”
“I didn’t say it did.”
His voice softened.
“I’m saying don’t let the first conversation happen while you’re bleeding.”
Alexandra stared at him.
Nobody had spoken to her like that in years.
Not employees.
Not directors.
Not partners.
Daniel looked toward the security room.
“Get facts first.”
She hated him again.
Which had become dangerously close to trusting him.
“Fine.”
Investigators arrived.
The assistant was separated.
Devices seized.
The evidence unfolded over the next two days.
Her name was Rachel Wynn.
She had not designed the attack.
She had facilitated access.
A NorthBridge adviser approached her months earlier.
He told her MeridianPay would eventually be acquired regardless.
If Alexandra’s leadership failed early, the acquisition could happen quickly.
Alexandra would still receive a senior position.
Employees would be protected.
Investors would be compensated.
Rachel believed part of it.
The rest she chose not to question.
She provided access schedules.
Transition documents.
Executive-device identifiers.
Board network information.
She helped plant fake traces.
But the malware itself came from an outside contractor.
Its intended objective was a six-hour settlement outage.
Enough to damage confidence.
Not enough to cause permanent customer losses.
Except the contractor built a more aggressive payload than Rachel understood.
Had Daniel allowed Core Settlement to restart, the attack might have damaged transaction consistency across thirty-seven partner institutions.
Not six hours.
Potentially weeks.