By five o'clock, Mila had finished all 30 files on her desk.
She stared at the stack of files on her desk, now organized into three neat piles. The first contained files with minor discrepancies—small errors that could be explained away as clerical mistakes. The second held files with more significant issues—duplicate payments, mismatched account codes, transactions that didn't align with the reported timelines.
The third pile was the smallest, but it made her stomach tighten the most. These three files were filled with patterns that repeated across multiple accounts. It wasn't a mistake, it was too well hidden for that, it felt a lot more deliberate than just a 'mistake'.
She pulled out a blank sheet of paper and started writing. She listed each discrepancy by file number, cross-referenced the account codes, and noted the submission dates. The patterns became clearer as she wrote them down.
Most of the problematic files had come from the same source. She didn't know which department, but the signature patterns were consistent. The same person was signing for all of them.
She finished the summary, read through it once to make sure she hadn't missed anything, then stood. The report felt heavier than it should have as she crossed the room toward Dante's desk.
He looked up as she approached. "Finished already?" he asked, putting down his pen.
"Yes," Mila replied as she set the report down in front of him, along with the three files from the smallest pile. "I found some things you should see."
Dante picked up the report, his gaze moving over the page. His expression didn't change, but his focus sharpened. He read through the first section, then flipped to the second page.
Vincenzo glanced up from his chair beside her. "Everything all right?"
"Come look at this." Dante gestured him over.
Vincenzo stood and crossed to the desk, leaning over Dante's shoulder to read the report. His expression was curious at first, then shifted to something more serious as he scanned the list.
"These are the files I flagged," Mila explained. "The first section is minor—clerical errors, mostly. But the second section has bigger problems. Duplicate payments under different account codes. Transactions that don't match the dates in the ledger. And the third section—" She tapped the smallest pile of files. "—those have patterns that repeat across multiple accounts."
Dante opened the first file from the third pile, flipping through the pages. His jaw tightened as he read.
Vincenzo straightened, his gaze moving over the files. He picked up one of them, scanning the pages. After a moment, he set it down and let out a slow breath.
"These came from the Operations Department."
Dante looked up. "Your team?"
"Yes." Vincenzo's tone was calm, but there was an edge of disappointment beneath it. "I review everything before it gets forwarded to you, but clearly I didn't catch these."
He picked up another file, flipping through it more carefully this time. His expression darkened.
"This is unacceptable." He set the file down, his gaze meeting Dante's. "I've cultivated these people. Trained them. And they haven't lived up to the standards I set."
"It happens," Dante offered.
"It shouldn't." Vincenzo shook his head. "Not in my department. I'll need to go through every report they've submitted in the last six months. Make sure there aren't more issues buried in the records."
He gathered the files from Mila's desk, stacking them carefully. "I'll take these with me. Review them tonight. If there are more problems, I'll find them."
Dante nodded. "Let me know what you find."
"I will." Vincenzo glanced at Mila, his expression softening slightly. "Thank you for catching this. I mean that. If you hadn't flagged these, we might not have noticed until it became a much bigger problem."
"Just doing my job."
"You're doing it well." He tucked the files under his arm and turned back to Dante. "I'll have a full report for you by tomorrow morning."
"Good."
Vincenzo left, the door closing softly behind him.
The office felt quieter without him. Mila stood by Dante's desk, unsure if she should return to her own or wait for him to say something.
He set the report down and leaned back in his chair, his gaze moving over the pages one more time.
"This is impressive."
Mila blinked. "It's just what you asked me to do."
"No." He looked up at her, his expression serious. "You didn't just organize the files. You found patterns. You cross-referenced accounts, flagged discrepancies, and put together a report that's more thorough than half the analysts I've worked with."
She didn't know what to say to that.
"You said you were a temp." His tone wasn't accusatory, just curious. "Where did you learn to do this?"
"I've worked a lot of different jobs." She kept her voice steady. "You pick things up."
He studied her for a moment, then nodded. "Well, you picked up the right things."
He tapped the report with one finger. "This could have cost us a lot, and not just in terms of money. If these patterns had continued unchecked, we'd be looking at a much bigger mess down the line."
"I'm glad I could help."
"You did more than help." He stood, rounding the desk to face her. "You caught something that should have been caught weeks ago. That takes skill. And attention to detail."
There was something in the way he looked at her that made her chest tighten. Not suspicion. Not doubt.
Trust.
He trusted her work. He trusted her judgment. And he was telling her so, directly, without hesitation.
"Thank you," she managed.
"Don't thank me. You earned it." He glanced at the clock on the wall. "It's late. Pack up. I'll take you home."
"I can finish—"
"You're done for today." His tone left no room for argument. "You've been at this for hours. Go home. Rest."
Mila nodded, crossing back to her desk. She gathered the remaining files, stacking them neatly, and tucked her notes into the drawer.
Dante was already at the door, waiting.
She grabbed her bag and followed him out.
The hallway was quiet, the building mostly empty at this hour. Their footsteps echoed as they walked toward the elevator.
Dante pressed the button, and they waited in silence.
When the doors opened, he gestured for her to step inside first.
She did, and he followed.
The elevator descended, and Mila stared at the numbers as they ticked down. Her mind was still on the report, on Vincenzo's reaction, on the way Dante had looked at her when he said she'd earned his trust.
She didn't know what to do with that.
The doors opened, and they stepped out into the lobby.
Marco was already waiting by the car.
Dante opened the door for her, and she slid into the back seat.
He climbed in beside her, and the car pulled away from the curb.
The city blurred past the windows, and Mila leaned back against the seat. Her body felt heavy, the exhaustion from the day finally catching up to her.
But underneath that, there was something else.
Something that felt almost warm.
Dante had defended her. Praised her. Trusted her.
And for the first time since she'd arrived, she felt like she'd done something right.
She glanced at him from the corner of her eye. He was looking out the window, his expression unreadable.
But his hand rested on the seat between them, close enough that she could feel the warmth radiating from it.
She turned back to the window and watched the city pass by.
It had been a long day.
But it was worth it.