The soft murmur of the rain tapping against the windows created a gentle rhythm in the otherwise tense apartment. Melisa leaned over her laptop, eyes darting across lines of internal access logs, timestamps, and usernames. Her expression was unreadable, a calm mask hiding the storm within. She had requested remote access to the company system with the excuse of continuing her work. Ms. Farrow hadn't argued — if anything, she'd seemed hopeful Melisa would dig something up.
Every keystroke was deliberate. Every file she opened told a story. And slowly, she began to see it — a pattern. Someone had been subtly using her login across different days. Sometimes for minor access. Other times, as with the recent blunder, for major uploads. It was too smooth to be coincidental.
The logs revealed something else too.
