Hannah's Chance (Chapter 9) (fm:sex at work, 5783 words) [9/9] show all parts

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Clare's eyes narrowed, her knuckles pale where she gripped the pen. "You seem to have developed an alarming habit of making unilateral decisions, Hannah. Assigning Alex, committing to Keller's impossible demand, partnering with Creighton without my sign-off..." She leaned back, the chair creaking. "It stops now. Alex focuses on Tanaka. That's non-negotiable. Keller's proposal gets delayed. Contact them and let them know."

Hannah's stomach tightened. Delaying Keller meant losing him - and Maria's trust. "Clare, please. The biomarker analysis is Alex's specialty. He can—"

"I said no." Clare's voice was glacial. "Tanaka is our priority client. Alex works on their model until it's flawless. Keller waits." She stood, signaling the end of the discussion. "Update me on Tanaka by end of day. Dismissed."

Hannah left the office, the dismissal ringing in her ears. Clare's refusal was a brick wall - one that threatened to shatter everything she'd built with Keller and Maria. Alex couldn't split his focus? He had to. She couldn't lose Keller now. And she couldn't let Maria down. She walked briskly to her desk, mind racing.

She decided to speak to Alex and called his extension, plunging ahead before doubt could creep in. "Alex, the Keller biomarker analysis is critical, whereas the tweaks required to the Tanaka model are minimal. Can you prioritize the biomarker subgroup validation first? Discreetly."

Alex's sigh crackled through the receiver. "Clare just ordered me to focus entirely on Tanaka. She was... emphatic." He lowered his voice. "She thinks you're overstepping, Hannah. Pushing too hard."

"I know what Clare thinks," Hannah replied, keeping her own voice low but urgent. "But Keller's deadline is immovable. The biomarker validation is your core skill. Tanaka's adjustments are interface polish. Can you start the Keller work? Tonight? Off the clock?" It was a risk, asking him to defy Clare directly.

There was a pause. Then came Alex's reluctant whisper. "I'll try. But if Clare checks my logs..."

"I'll handle Clare," Hannah cut in, although she had no concrete plan to do so. "Just get me that data." She hung up, fingers trembling slightly. Defiance tasted metallic, dangerous.

She decided to update Maria and drafted her an email, telling her that the biomarker validation was underway. She hesitated, then deleted 'underway', replacing it with 'on track'. Certainty mattered now.

She opened the Tanaka board document and studied the two board members she'd identified as swing voters. She decided to let Rossi know of her findings and texted him accordingly.

The rest of the day crawled by, with Hannah occupied in catching up with routine matters after her week in Milan. After Clare had left for the day, she offered to stay behind with Alex as he worked on the Keller data, but he told her it was a solo job and her being there wouldn't help him. Hannah left for home, knowing the risk was immense. Clare's wrath wasn't theoretical.

At home, Hannah poured herself a large glass of wine, feeling guilty over Alex spending his evening in the office and thinking about the alarming precariousness of her position.

She arrived at her office the following day, finding her phone ringing. It was Maria. "Hannah, Creighton's structuring team needs Alex's biomarker validation by midday today to lock the carve-out valuation." Maria's voice was clipped, efficient. "Where are we?"

"I don't know," Hannah replied. "Alex was working on it last night, but I haven't seen him yet this morning." She hung up and immediately dialed Alex's extension. No answer. She hurried out of her office, to ask if anyone had seen him, and her palms grew damp as she saw him entering Clare's office. She knew that this could mean trouble.

She returned to her desk, pretending to work while watching Clare's door. Ten minutes later, Alex emerged, his expression unreadable. Hannah waited for him to reach his office and called his extension. "Alex, are we in trouble?"

"No, I was just giving Clare a Tanaka update, but she's very suspicious. She seems to think we're in cahoots or are likely to be soon. I'm not to do any work for you without her express permission."

Hannah's stomach dropped. "Did she mention Keller?"

"No," Alex said, his voice tight. "But she grilled me about Tanaka refinements. Asked if I was 'distracted' by other projects."

Hannah gripped the receiver. "The biomarker validation—"

"Clare specifically ordered me to focus solely on Tanaka," he interrupted, his voice strained.

Hannah's knuckles whitened around the phone. "Maria needs those biomarkers by midday. Keller walks without them."

"It's too risky," he whispered, "Clare could walk into my office at any moment."

"Then quickly disguise what you're doing. Please. It's that important."

Alex hesitated, the silence thick. "Fine. I'll have the Tanaka files open while I run Keller's analysis." He was clearly unhappy and hung up abruptly.

As the morning passed, Hannah tried to avoid looking at the clock every few minutes. At eleven forty-two Alex finally called her. "Validation complete. Biomarker subgroups correlate perfectly with Keller's efficacy claims. The science is solid." His voice was flat, exhausted. "I'll send the data directly to Creighton."

"Thank you," Hannah breathed, relief flooding her. "You saved everything."

"Don't thank me yet," Alex muttered. "Clare asked for Tanaka progress twice this morning. She knows something's off." The line went dead.

Hannah immediately called Maria, asking her to confirm that Creighton had everything they needed.

"We've got it," Maria confirmed, her tone brisk. "We're locking the valuation now."

Hannah exhaled in relief, leaning back in her chair. But Alex's warning echoed - Clare knew something was off.

Her phone buzzed with a text. Alessandro Rossi. "Thanks for the two names. The scarab will press them."

Before she could process the implications, she noticed an email arrive from Liam Vince. The subject of the message was "Investment Progress." Her pulse jumped. Nothing had been heard from Vince for a couple of months, but no news had been good news. The less she heard from him the better.

She clicked on the message. Despite Vince's reputation for volatility, his tone was surprisingly measured. He had clearly been scrutinizing his portfolio and was questioning the merits of two of the investments they had made on his behalf, referring to them as underperforming assets.

Hannah drafted a careful reply, emphasizing that he had only been with Layton Moreby for two months and that wasn't very long in which to judge investments, especially in emerging markets. She assured him the underperforming assets he referred to were hot prospects for future growth, and then she hit the send button, hoping she'd said enough to satisfy him.

If Vince replied, she would seek further information from Alex to provide him with a more detailed response, although she knew she was already stretching her reliance on Alex beyond any reasonable limit. Hopefully Vince would stay quiet and not push any further.

The rest of the day passed uneventfully. With everything else that was going on, she hadn't yet followed up with Lena Petrova, the Nordic pension fund manager she'd met at the investor show. That potential business was something which would surely impress Clare, even though she didn't appear to be overwhelmed by Keller or the progress she'd made with Tanaka.

On reflection, she decided to allow Lena more time to review the information she'd given her, but drafted a memo to Clare anyway to make her aware of the good contact she'd made.

The next two days passed surprisingly quietly, but then it was Friday and not just any Friday. It was the day which marked the end of Hannah's three month trial.

She arrived at work early, her nerves taut as she checked her email. Nothing from Vince. Relief washed over her - his silence was golden. But Clare's summons came mid-morning, sharp and unavoidable. Hannah smoothed her skirt, took a steadying breath, and walked into Clare's office.

Clare didn't look up. "Sit down." Her voice was clipped. When she did finally look up, her expression was granite. "Your trial period ends today," Clare began, tapping a pen on her desk. "You've shown... audacity. Securing Vince's capital, arranging Tanaka's presentation, getting Keller's attention." Her gaze remained stony. "But audacity isn't competence. You've used dubious methods, ignored protocols, bypassed approvals, and improperly pressured Alex. You've overstepped the mark in so many ways."

Hannah's throat tightened. "The results—"

"Don't tell me the end justifies the means," Clare cut in, her tone slicing through Hannah's defense.

Hannah straightened in her chair. "With respect, Clare, I secured Vince's investment when no one else could. I salvaged Tanaka's presentation under impossible pressure. Keller's carve-out is moving forward because I pushed." She leaned forward, palms flat on her knees. "Alex chose to help because he saw the opportunity. Not because I pressured him."

Clare's eyes narrowed. "You exploited his work ethic." Her stony face showed no signs of cracking. "And you kept quiet about being involved with Creighton Bank."

"It all unfolded very quickly," Hannah countered, her voice steady despite the tremor in her hands. "Keller gave me a forty-eight hour timescale. Creighton's partnership made meeting that deadline possible - I couldn't have done it without them. Look at the outcome: Keller's gene therapy is set to survive and it's gaining a major piece of business for Layton Moreby."

Clare's expression remained impassive. "And the Tanaka shareholder? The one you still refuse to name?"

Hannah met her gaze. "Confidentiality protects them - and us. Revealing their identity risks undermining their influence over the board. You'll soon see the results - Chen's faction is gaining ground." She paused, letting the strategic necessity hang between them. "Would you prefer transparency over leverage?"

Clare's pen tapped again, slower now. "Your Tanaka presentation used proprietary biotech data from Keller's files. Data Alex wasn't authorized to repurpose."

Hannah's breath caught. "They demanded proof of concept. Keller's biomarkers were the only leverage we had." She leaned forward, voice low. "Would you have preferred that I lost Tanaka?"

Clare's knuckles whitened around her pen. "Don't twist this. You violated protocols. You gambled with proprietary data." She paused, letting the accusation hang. "You don't seem to understand boundaries. You seem to think rules are... flexible."

Hannah didn't flinch. "Does Layton Moreby want deal-makers who play safe? Or winners who deliver?" She held Clare's stare, her pulse hammering against her ribs. "I brought Vince's capital. I'm making good progress in securing Tanaka. Keller's carve-out is happening - because - I bent rules. Tell me another associate who's delivered this much in three months."

Clare leaned back, her chair creaking. Silence stretched, thick and charged. Hannah could hear the faint hum of the air conditioning, the distant clatter of keyboards. Finally, Clare spoke, her voice devoid of warmth. "Your trial period is over. Effective immediately, you're promoted to Associate." She paused, letting the title hang in the air. "But understand this: your leash just got shorter. No more unilateral decisions. No more pressuring Alex. Every Tanaka move, every Keller step, every breath you take on behalf of this firm crosses my desk first." She slid a single sheet of paper across the desk. "Sign this. It outlines your new responsibilities - and the consequences for further... effrontery."

Hannah scanned the document. Associate title. Salary bump. But the conditions were suffocating: preapproval for all client contact, mandatory disclosure of all third-party interactions (therefore including Rossi and the Scarab Beetle), and Clare's explicit veto on any "high-risk initiatives." Signing felt like shackling her ambition. Yet, refusing meant unemployment. She picked up the pen, her signature a jagged line of concession. "Understood, Clare."

The rest of Friday passed in a blur of administrative work. The morning was punctuated by an exchange of messages with Maria to coordinate the submission of the separation proposal to Keller. The afternoon drifted by dully and reached a close without anything of note happening, Hannah finding it hard to feel any satisfaction in her role now being confirmed as permanent. The salary bump was of course welcome, but her position felt very hollow without autonomy.

As she arrived home, her phone buzzed with a text. Alessandro Rossi. "Scarab pressed the names you gave us. Votes secured."

Hannah stared at the words. Votes secured. Surely Chen now had a majority? And Tanaka was hers? The victory should have been electric, a vindication of every risk she'd taken. Instead, it felt like ash in her mouth. Rossi's text was a transaction completed, a debt acknowledged. Steiner's cold eyes flashed in her memory - the price paid for those votes. She dropped her keys on the kitchen counter, the metallic clatter too loud in the silent apartment.

Promotion or not, Clare had caged her. Every move now monitored, every contact to be reported. Rossi, Steiner, Scarab Beetle - they were landmines now. If Clare discovered the extent of her dealings... Hannah poured a glass of wine, the red liquid catching the dim light like blood. She'd won Tanaka, but at what cost? Her freedom to maneuver was gone.

The wine tasted bitter on her tongue. Outside, the city glittered as it began to get dark, but it was a city of deals she could no longer chase freely. Rossi's text haunted her - votes secured. Tanaka was hers, but Steiner's price - the cold office floor, the humiliation - replayed in her mind. She'd traded dignity for control, and now Clare had leashed that control. A hollow victory.

Monday morning began with an email from Maria. "Keller signed the separation proposal. Creighton is structuring the carve-out. We're live." A tangible win, yet Hannah felt nothing. Keller's success was hers, but Clare would claim it as oversight, not initiative. Hannah typed a terse reply. "Good news. Keep me updated." No celebration, no triumph. Just procedure.

The rest of the morning was routine, but the afternoon began with an email from Liam Vince. Her stomach tightened as she opened his message. "Your response lacks substance," it read. "Provide performance metrics for the two failing investments within 48 hours." His phrasing was polite but lethal, a blade wrapped in velvet. "Given the stakes, I expect your full attention to a review of these holdings. Failure to address my concerns satisfactorily will necessitate reconsideration of our entire arrangement."

Hannah stared at the words. Vince's patience had snapped. His withdrawal would crater her credibility right after the promotion, since Vince's capital was the bedrock of that promotion. Lose him and Clare's cage would become a coffin. She badly needed Alex's help and analysis, but Clare's ban on pressuring him strangled that option. Panic fluttered in her chest.

She drafted a holding reply. "Understood. Comprehensive performance analysis underway. Will deliver within your timeframe." Hitting send felt like tossing sandbags against a flood. She needed leverage and fast. Vince respected results, not excuses. But with Clare monitoring her every move, how could she produce them?

Her fingers hovered over Alex's extension. "No pressuring Alex." Clare's edict echoed. But Alex knew Vince's portfolio structure - he'd helped assemble the initial reports. Could she frame this as routine maintenance? A risk. Clare's suspicion was a tripwire. Hannah exhaled, pushing her chair back. There had to be another way.

She pulled up Vince's file. The underperforming assets: Veridian Logistics, a Southeast Asian shipping startup drowning in debt, and NexGen Agritech, an African soil-tech firm hemorrhaging cash after failed pilot programs. Both were rated as good prospects for growth in the long run, but were looking shaky in the short term. Now their struggles threatened her.

Hannah scrolled through Alex's initial assessments. Veridian's cash-flow projections were optimistic fiction. NexGen's field data showed catastrophic yield gaps. Vince wouldn't accept excuses. He'd want solutions - or exits. And Clare's oversight meant Hannah couldn't commission fresh analysis without triggering scrutiny. The last thing Hannah wanted right now was Clare knowing that she was having bother with Vince.

Her phone buzzed with a text. Alessandro Rossi. "Steiner delivered the two Singapore votes. We have a majority."

Hannah couldn't think about Tanaka now, but hearing from Rossi made her think about him and the Scarab Beetle. A reckless idea formed in her mind. Scarab's network surely spanned many sectors of industry. And Rossi appeared to know everything and everyone. If she could access real-time Veridian shipment logs or NexGen's suppressed pilot reports... But contacting Rossi violated Clare's disclosure rule. Steiner's cold office floor flashed in her mind. The cost of favors was steep.

She pushed the thought aside. There had to be a legitimate way. Hannah pulled Veridian's latest investor report, scanning for clues. Buried in footnotes, she found a reference to delayed planning permission in Jakarta. NexGen's report mentioned "localized soil incompatibility," but the raw data wasn't included. Alex would know how to find it, but Clare's warning echoed - no pressuring Alex.

Her eyes fell on her phone again, on the text just received. We have a majority. Tanaka was secured. She should feel triumph. Instead, Vince's deadline pressed like a vise. Steiner's name sparked an idea. He was a director of Tanaka, a major company in Asia. Would he know where to find Veridian's internal assessments? Assuming they were available anywhere. The risk was monumental though. If Clare discovered Hannah soliciting favors from Steiner...

Hannah pushed her chair back sharply. No. Steiner's price would be too high, and Clare's wrath higher.

She scanned Veridian's investor report again, fingers drumming the desk. Jakarta planning delays. She navigated to Jakarta's municipal planning portal, scrolling through dense PDFs until she found it. Veridian's warehouse project was stalled indefinitely due to zoning conflicts. Not mismanagement - bureaucracy. Vince might accept that together with a mitigation plan.

NexGen was trickier. "Localized soil incompatibility." She pulled up agricultural forums, sifting through threads until a farmer's rant caught her eye. NexGen's test plots failed because their sensors misread volcanic soil pH levels. The company knew. They'd buried the data.

Hannah's fingers flew over the keyboard as she drafted Vince's report. Veridian's delay was external, fixable with political lobbying. NexGen's flaw was concealment, requiring leadership overhaul or divestment. She attached the Jakarta zoning documents and the forum screenshots - circumstantial, but damning. Her pulse raced. It was all cobbled together, desperate. Would Vince buy it? That was the question.

Her extension buzzed. Alex. "Clare just demanded a Tanaka update. Said it's urgent. I've got their model up to date though, unless there's anything else I should know " Hannah's stomach dropped. Clare was circling, tightening the screws. If Hannah delivered Vince's patchwork report and it backfired, Clare would have serious reason to doubt her competence. She hesitated, then forwarded Vince's email to Alex with a single line. "Need your eyes on this. Veridian/NexGen. Urgent."

The reply was instant. "Clare forbade me from helping you." Alex's text vibrated with tension. "She's watching me like a hawk."

Hannah slammed her fist softly against the desk. Clare's cage was tightening. Vince's deadline loomed - forty-eight hours to salvage investments Clare didn't even know were crumbling. Her cobbled together report felt flimsy against Vince's sharp intellect. The Jakarta zoning proof was solid, but NexGen? A farmer's forum rant wouldn't convince a man like Vince. He'd demand audited data, board minutes, proof that NexGen deliberately buried failure. Data only Alex could legally extract... or Rossi could ruthlessly obtain.

She pulled out her own phone and called Rossi's number. He answered immediately, and assuming she was calling regarding Tanaka, gave her a detailed update on the current position. With the votes Steiner had delivered and the two names she'd provided herself, they now had a majority on the board. The scarab was even working on three other board members ahead of the vote to try and make the position even more secure, to avoid having to worry about anyone wavering at the last moment.

Hannah listened patiently to Rossi's update, then explained her problem with Vince. Rossi didn't say much, but gave her an email address and told her to send the names of the two companies she'd mentioned, together with what information she was looking for.

Hannah was aware that she was now in explicit breach of Clare's third-party disclosure rule, but pressed on regardless, Vince's deadline looming in her mind. She hit the send button and felt a momentary surge of relief mixed with dread. Rossi's network operated in shadows Clare couldn't penetrate, but the risk was palpable. If Clare ever discovered this... Hannah didn't let herself finish the thought. She needed Vince pacified, and Rossi was her only lifeline.

The rest of the afternoon crawled by. Alex sent a terse Tanaka update confirming that Clare had been satisfied with his report to her, but Hannah barely registered it. Her focus was locked on her silent inbox. Tanaka felt like yesterday's victory. Vince's threat was the blade at her throat now. She drafted contingency plans - flimsy excuses about regulatory delays for NexGen, pleas for patience with Veridian - knowing Vince would see through them. Every minute stretched taut.

At four forty-three an email arrived from Rossi. "I've made some enquiries, but it's late here and the middle of the night in Jakarta. I'll contact you tomorrow."

Hannah stared at the screen, her throat tightening. Tomorrow. Vince's deadline was ticking down relentlessly, and Rossi's vague promise offered no certainty. The relief she'd felt earlier evaporated, replaced by a cold dread. Rossi would operate on his own timetable, and Vince wouldn't care about time zones or delays. She needed answers and the sooner the better.

She considered backing down and asking Clare for permission to seek help from Alex, but since that would involve having to tell Clare that she was in trouble with Vince, she decided against it. Then through the perspex wall of her office, she noticed Alex on his way out, so there was nothing he could do for her today anyway.

Hannah headed home too, her mind churning with worst case scenarios. What if Rossi couldn't deliver? What if Vince pulled his funding? Her promotion would be a joke, Clare's restrictions a permanent cage.

She spent the evening combing through NexGen's sparse public filings again, searching for any overlooked clue. Nothing. At midnight, she drafted Vince a holding email - polite, professional, promising a full reply soon. Then she deleted it, realizing it didn't serve any purpose.

She arrived at the office the next morning, not having slept well, unable to still her mind. Her spirits were immediately lifted though, when she checked her email and found a message from Rossi. She opened it, trying not to get too excited until she knew if it was good news or not.

"Hannah, I've looked into the two positions you flagged. Veridian is about to enter into a merger, which will resolve its current debt problem. They have the technology, but no modern distribution. Their future partner has the distribution, but no modern technology. It's a good match, even a match made in heaven. I wouldn't recommend divestment at this stage. The merger is likely to attract media attention, institutional backing, and possibly future acquisition interest. All of which drive valuation. Perhaps buy rather than sell, before the price spikes. As for NexGen, they have had setbacks, but nothing fatal. It's hard to know what the future holds for them, but rather than trying to prop your position up conventionally, I've identified a structured overlay that hedges downside risk while keeping upside potential intact. Essentially, it converts the weak spots into controlled optionality, allowing your client to benefit if the market turns favorable without leaving them exposed to further losses. It requires careful execution, but the framework is already in place. AR."

Hannah read Rossi's email twice, her pulse quickening. Some of it she didn't understand, but she knew he hadn't just delivered data as she'd requested, he'd provided her with a strategic roadmap. The Veridian merger was actionable intelligence she could exploit immediately. The NexGen overlay was sophisticated financial engineering, far beyond anything she could have devised herself. Rossi had transformed Vince's crisis into an opportunity.

She drafted Vince's report with renewed confidence. For Veridian, she highlighted the imminent merger, positioning it as a catalyst for explosive growth and advising Vince to consider increasing his stake preannouncement. For NexGen, she outlined Rossi's structured overlay in simplified terms, framing it as a proprietary Layton Moreby strategy to lock in gains while neutralizing risk. Her fingers trembled only slightly as she hit send.

Vince was a few hours behind Hannah's time, but even so his email reply landed only two hours later. "Veridian makes sense. Execute the buy order. I'll send funds. NexGen solution is elegant. And well thought out. Proceed." Relief washed over her, sharp and sweet. She'd navigated the crisis without Clare's oversight or Alex's help. Rossi's intervention was her secret weapon.

She forwarded Vince's instructions to the trading desk, copying in Clare as protocol demanded - a routine notification, nothing more. Within minutes, her extension buzzed and she heard Clare's voice, clipped and suspicious. "Veridian? Why is Vince suddenly buying more of a failing asset?"

Hannah braced herself and kept her tone smooth, rehearsed. "Due diligence uncovered an imminent catalyst, Clare. A merger. It transforms their debt profile. Vince saw the strategic advantage." She omitted Rossi, the structured overlay, the predawn email.

Clare's silence crackled through the line. Hannah pictured her scanning Vince's order and the NexGen solution flagged as Layton Moreby proprietary. "This hedging strategy," Clare finally said, each word precise. "It's sophisticated. Alex didn't draft this."

"No," Hannah admitted, keeping her voice level. "I developed it based on the underlying weaknesses." The lie tasted metallic. Rossi's brilliance was woven into every line. "Vince was concerned about NexGen's performance and asked me to come up with something."

Clare's exhale was audible. "You're rewriting risk models now? Stick to investor relations, Hannah. This is outside your scope. You're not qualified to be handling such matters." The disapproval was thick, but Hannah heard the underlying tension. Clare couldn't prove that she had done anything wrong. Vince's approval was the only validation that mattered.

Vince's additional investment arrived immediately and Hannah spent the afternoon monitoring the Veridian trade execution. The email confirming its completion felt like a significant victory. Rossi's attention to her problem and his insight had saved her. She owed him, deeply. The thought prickled her skin. Debts to Rossi weren't settled with gratitude.

The next morning was quiet, Hannah feeling calm now, but that changed just before lunchtime, when she answered her office phone to receive a summons to Clare's office. She had a feeling this wasn't going to be anything good, and she walked in with her heart drumming against her ribs. Clare's stare was sharp, her tone even sharper.

"The NexGen overlay. Where did it come from? Alex insists he had no involvement, and it carries none of his signatures." Hannah met her stare, keeping her voice steady. "I synthesized it from public data and Vince's risk parameters. The structure emerged logically once I mapped the variables."

Clare's laugh was short, brittle. "Don't insult my intelligence. That level of structured finance requires years of market immersion. Or," she paused, leaning forward, "external expertise. Who helped you?"

Hannah's palms grew damp. "I used Layton's internal frameworks—"

"That's complete nonsense." Clare's fist hit the desk. "You pulled this out of thin air overnight. No model runs, no scenario testing. What's going on?"

Hannah's mind raced. "Vince demanded innovation. I adapted existing templates—"

"Templates?" Clare's voice dropped to a venomous whisper. "Your NexGen work is bespoke genius. Our templates don't produce genius, Hannah. They produce compliance." She stood, looming over the desk. "You bypassed Alex. You bypassed me. Who's pulling your strings?"

Hannah's breath caught. She knew that Clare smelled blood. "I acted alone to meet a deadline that Vince gave me. The structure was my interpretation—"

"Interpretation?" Clare snatched a printout from her desk. "This clause here - contingent conversion triggers based on proprietary yield curves. That's not interpretation. That's market sorcery. Who - was - it?" Her knuckles whitened on the paper.

Hannah's composure frayed. "I protected Vince's capital. That's my job—"

"Your job?" Clare slammed the printout down. "Your job is to follow protocols."

Hannah stood her ground. "Vince is satisfied. He's even invested more money."

"Yes, he has, hasn't he? And that brings us to Veredian," Clare snapped. "Its share price is going nowhere, yet you prompted Vince to make a further investment - on the basis of a forthcoming merger. Something that hasn't even been announced. Something you don't even know about." Her voice became vicious now. "Unless of course you have insider access."

Hannah froze. The accusation hung in the air like a physical blow. Rossi's information had been precise, actionable - in fact too precise. Clare's eyes bored into her, sharp as scalpels dissecting every micro-expression. "Insider access?" Hannah repeated, stalling. "I extrapolated from supply chain shifts and regulatory filings. The merger logic was evident—"

"Evident?" Clare cut her off with a razor-thin smile. She tapped the Veridian trade confirmation. "Unless you fed Vince with wild supposition, you definitely knew something." She leaned closer, her voice dropping to a hiss. "How?"

Hannah's mind raced. Clare had already dissected the inconsistencies. "Market intuition," she offered weakly, but Clare's scoff shattered the pretense.

"You've violated every control protocol," she said, her eyes like ice. "Tanaka was reckless. Keller was insubordinate. But this? This is systemic deceit. Tell me who supplied the intelligence on Veridian? And who was the architect of that overlay?"

Hannah's throat tightened. Rossi's name burned on her tongue, but uttering it would sound ridiculous. She didn't even know who Rossi was exactly. "I acted in the client's best interest," she insisted, clinging to Vince's approval like a shield.

Clare's laugh was cold, humorless. "Best interest? You've exposed Layton Moreby to regulatory scrutiny. Insider trading allegations aren't in anyone's best interest." She picked up her phone, her finger hovering over a button. "I'm suspending you, effective immediately."

Hannah's blood ran cold. "Clare, wait—"

"You'll remain at home pending investigation," Clare stated, her tone leaving no room for negotiation. She tapped her intercom. "Security will escort you out." Hannah's mind raced and she opened her mouth to protest, but Clare's icy glare silenced her. "Save it for compliance."

Any further argument was clearly futile and Hannah could do nothing but accept her fate.

At home, she sat doing nothing. The radio was on, but she wasn't paying attention, her mind numbed by the turn of events. She wondered if this was the end of her career in the investment world? What was going to happen next?

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Hook writes Mon 17 Nov 2025 19:58:

I suspect you have considerable knowledge of international financial strategy. Professor? Industry VP?
The story's flow is brilliant, with plenty of sidetracks, just as in real life. Well done!!

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