The CEO stayed frozen in his chair long after the clip ended.
It wasn't the shouting that disturbed him. He'd shouted at people before. He'd heard worse. It was the ease of it. The way the truth slipped out of the assistant's mouth like it had been sitting on his tongue for a long time, waiting for the right moment to fall.
And the worst part was the angle.
The phone was placed properly. Not shaky. Not accidental. It caught the assistant clearly. Caught the room clearly. Caught the moment he lunged for it like a fool.
For seven years.
Seven years the boy had walked behind him, carried his files, memorized his habits, learned how to read his face from a distance.
Seven years, and he still walked into a trap like an amateur.
The CEO's jaw tightened until it hurt.
He picked up his phone and called.
The first ring went.
The second rang.
The third.
No answer.
His eyes narrowed. He called again. Immediately.
Still nothing.
