Clad
"Clad, I can explain."
"You have a minute, Max."
I sit up straight, fingers drumming against the dark wood of my desk. The sharp, rhythmic tapping echoes through the quiet office. Max exhales audibly, a telltale sign of his nerves. Good. He should be nervous.
"Err… where do I begin?" he murmurs, hesitation thick in his voice.
I arch a brow. "I don't know, maybe start where you let confidential work leave the office, Max? Really?" My voice is sharp, accusatory.
It was only the four of us in that space—Max, his assistant, myself, and my secretary. No one else had access to that information. No one else could have let it slip.
The other end of the call falls silent.
A muscle tenses in my jaw as I process my next move. If my suspicions are correct, there's only one logical course of action. I cannot, and *will not*, tolerate incompetence—let alone betrayal.
"I—"
"Hang on," I cut him off, already making my decision.
