Damon's POV
"Good morning, sir. The board is waiting," Godson's voice came through the door before I even entered the office. The morning sun slanted through the floor-to-ceiling windows, painting the polished wood floor in patterns of light and shadow. My heart thumped hard—today was the big acquisition vote. I squared my shoulders.
"Thank you, Godson. I'll be down in a moment." I offered a calm tone, though inside I felt a twist of unease I couldn't shake.
I closed the door behind me and moved to my desk. Everything should be in order: the confidential folder with financial projections, negotiation terms, risk assessments—everything the board needed to decide. Yet as I stepped forward, I noticed the slight tilt of the desk lamp, the faint shift in the stack of papers. My pulse quickened.
I reached for the folder. It wasn't there.
My breath caught. "Godson?" I called out before stepping to the edge of my desk. I rifled through the stack of documents: quarterly reports, memos, but not the board packet. The one I'd prepared painstakingly last night.
My mind raced: How could it be missing? I was meticulous. I replayed yesterday evening's routine: I left the folder on the desk after reviewing it late, confident the security protocols would protect it. Now it was gone.
I tapped the desk phone. "Godson, I need the board packet—now. The one for this morning's meeting."
Moments later, Godson entered with a brisk step. His expression was polite but tense. "Sir, I've checked the usual storage and the secure drawer. The folder isn't there. It's not logged in the safe either."
A cold knot tightened in my chest. "You mean it's vanished?"
He shook his head. "I'm sorry. I see no record of its removal in the log—only that it was here last night. I'll check security footage."
My jaw clenched. "Do it." I forced a steady voice, though panic flickered beneath. "And keep this quiet for now. I'll address the board directly."
Godson inclined his head and left. I turned back to the empty desk surface. The city skyline outside seemed indifferent: sunlight reflecting off glass towers, traffic humming far below.
But in here, everything felt fragile: the company's future, my reputation, and not least, Aria's trust. If word leaked that critical documents were missing, investors would panic.
I inhaled, attempting composure. I straightened my tie and smoothed my jacket. Then I headed to the boardroom.
The boardroom doors were open; the long table was already filled with executives in dark suits. Their murmurs hushed as I entered. I nodded in greeting, stepping to the head of the table.
"Good morning," I began, forcing calm. I placed both hands on the table's edge, scanning familiar faces: investors, legal counsel, our CFO, key directors. Everyone expected the packet. I unfolded a printed agenda but withheld mention of the missing folder until I had to.
One director, Ms. Lang, cleared her throat. "Mr. Westin, the board is ready to review the acquisition terms." She gave a polite smile.
I nodded, heart pounding. "Thank you. Before we proceed, I need to address an urgent matter." I paused, inhaling. "The board packet for today's meeting is currently unavailable. We cannot move forward until it's found or reconstructed." A ripple of surprise passed around the table.
"Might this be a delay tactic?" the CFO asked, eyes narrow.
I met his gaze steadily. "No. It appears the original documents are missing. We have to postpone until we resolve this." My voice was firm, but inside I reeled: sabotage? Theft? An internal breach?
Ms. Lang frowned. "Postpone? The timelines are tight. Share prices depend on this approval."
"I understand," I said. "But without the proper data, we risk making a blind decision." I kept my tone calm, though my mind raced: Who would do this? A rival? An insider? Someone against the acquisition? Or something more personal—someone wanting to hurt me, the company, and indirectly Aria?
I continued: "I apologize for the inconvenience. We will reconvene as soon as we verify the documents' status. Security and legal are investigating immediately."
I dismissed the meeting with a brief nod. As the board members murmured and rose, glancing at each other, I left the room, voice low: "Thank you for your patience. We'll be in touch soon."
Outside, I exhaled sharply. My reflection in the glass door distorted, echoing my turmoil. I walked briskly back to my office. Every step felt heavy.
Back at my desk, I tapped my phone. "Godson, I need you and Sebastian Vale in my office now. Secure the legal team. Find out who had access to those files. Initiate internal review. And track any possible leak."
Within minutes, Godson appeared at my door. "Sebastian is on his way. Security found no forced entry logs, but they're checking the CCTV—though I fear someone disabled cameras last night."
My jaw tightened. "Yes. See what you can recover. Check access logs, badge entries, timestamps. I want every angle covered."
He nodded. "Understood. Should we alert IT to scan for digital traces? Perhaps backups exist?"
"Yes," I replied. "Start now. And keep this contained. If rumors spread, the stock will dip. No one must know until we have facts."
Godson hesitated. "Sir, I also recommended checking personal risks. The timing seems targeted. Do you think this links to… personal matters?" His eyes flicked toward the window as if searching for answers in the skyline.
I paused, recalling Celeste's sabotage. "I fear it might," I admitted quietly. "But we cannot assume. Treat all possibilities equally: corporate rivals, insider threats, personal revenge." I turned back to my desk, tension coiling in my shoulders.
He placed a hand on the doorframe. "I'll coordinate. Sebastian will join us shortly." Then he left.
Moments later, Sebastian Vale strode in, briefcase in hand. His presence was a reassuring solidity: charming, cunning, and fiercely loyal. He set the briefcase on the desk and opened it.
"Damon, I got your call. Missing board materials—is that correct?" His tone was brisk, eyes sharp.
I nodded, gesturing to the empty desk. "Yes. This folder was here last night. Now it's gone. I need you to lead legal action: trace the theft, prepare non-disclosure notices, alert our insurers, and ready a contingency plan. Also, review shareholder agreements in case we need emergency measures to maintain confidence."
Sebastian flipped open his laptop. "Understood. I'll draft statements and review internal policies. Meanwhile, we need to identify potential suspects. Who had last access? Anyone with grievances? Also, check external threats: competitors who might hire insiders to sabotage us."
I paced behind my chair. "Godson is on access logs and CCTV recovery. But if cameras were disabled, logs might show tampering. We need digital backups: see if earlier versions exist in secure servers—though a clever saboteur may have deleted those too."
Sebastian's fingers flew across the keyboard. "I'll arrange forensic IT analysis immediately. Also, we should interview anyone with after-hours access: cleaning staff, IT personnel, anyone with spare keys. And consider if someone could slip in using my old guest passes or compromised badges."
My mind churned: Celeste's revenge had reached a corporate level. She'd proven before she could harm Aria or me. If she orchestrated this, the stakes were higher: a direct blow to the company, forcing me to choose between business crisis and protecting Aria and her future.
I met Sebastian's gaze. "I also want you to privately secure Aria's position. She may be vulnerable if this scandal breaks. Keep her shielded from gossip and legal entanglements."
Sebastian nodded gravely. "Understood. I'll handle that personally."
We worked in tense silence, drafting emails and calling meetings. The tension in the office was palpable: whispers outside my door, colleagues glancing at me with curiosity. I maintained a calm façade but felt the pressure mounting.
By midday, Godson returned. His face was tight. "We discovered camera feeds were disabled overnight. Access logs show an entry at 2:17 AM by someone using a maintenance ID—one we suspect was compromised.
That user has no legitimate reason to be here at that hour. Security is tracing the source. IT is recovering backup footage from secondary servers. It may take hours."
I exhaled slowly. "Good work. Did you find any sign of forced entry?" I asked.
"No signs of forced lock picks. The office door was opened with a valid key or cloned badge. We're checking who had access to that key—though that may point to someone with insider knowledge."
My fists clenched. "Keep digging. And discreetly: I don't want panic. For now, postpone all speculation." I ran a hand through my hair. "Call me if anything emerges. Sebastian?"
Sebastian looked up from his laptop, eyes intense. "I've drafted an internal memo for legal and HR: a reminder of confidentiality clauses and disciplinary actions for breaches. We'll send it under general policy updates—no specifics. That should tighten control and deter further leaks."
I nodded. "Agreed. Also, prepare a fallback briefing for the board—summarize known data without revealing the missing packet details, just enough to reassure them we're handling it."
Sebastian tapped on his laptop. "On it."
I sank into my chair, gaze drifting to the window. The city below rushed by, oblivious to my crisis. Yet my empire felt fragile: one missing folder could unravel months of work, shake investor faith, and give rivals ammunition. And behind it all lurked personal betrayal: Celeste's possible hand, a reminder that my personal life and corporate life were dangerously entwined.
My phone buzzed with a message from Aria: Good luck today. I believe in you. A stab of guilt and warmth: I needed to protect her from this. She shouldn't know yet. Not until we had certainty.
I typed a quick reply: Thank you. See you tonight.
Then I turned back to Sebastian and Godson. "Keep searching. I want every angle covered. And… find out if any unusual communications occurred: emails, calls, anything referencing the board packet or acquisition terms."
They nodded, immersed in work. I stood and walked to the window again, hands clasped behind me. My reflection merged with the skyline. The missing documents hung between me and success. But the deeper fear was the unknown saboteur: who dared so boldly? And why now?