The Billionaire And His Fake Wife

nst the wall covered in names and connections. Brenda, Jake, Henderson. They were pawns. The real players were still in the shadows. Why my house? I pulled up the county zoning maps

y piece of a much large

uiet. It was an automated notific

irmation of Yo

thanking me for my years of service and confirming that my resignation, effective immedia

't res

upervisor, a man named Peterson.

il this morning. Everything okay?" His voice was l

oice flat. "I'm in the middle of a family

have the email right here. Sent from your account yesterday evening. It wa

this. The smear campaign wasn't just public; it was

lock down my account and start a trace on that e

nsion. "Maybe you're just stressed. People do things they don't

core architecture of that company. I am a major share

y booked the first fligh

me than anywhere else. But today, it felt alien. The receptionist looked at me with pity. Colleagues who would normally greet me with a handshak

escorted up

thout knocking. He sat behind his

is highly

he email,"

e sentiment was all wrong. It spoke of a secret family I had to return to, of responsibilities I coul

said, my voice dangerousl

on said, refusing to meet my eyes. "It c

e last 48 hours. Show me the timestamp of the last login and the IP address it came from.

There's been... talk. About your situation back home. The s

hey were using the smear campaign as justification.

art of a coordinated attack agains

screen. I still had back-end access through a personal failsaf

itted to a private server just last night, work for our next-gen project. "These are timestam

narrative that I had just proven false. The air in the room was thick with his betrayal. He wasn't a mas