Executive Meeting

The conference chamber glittered like a crown of glass above the smog. Twenty executives sat in its circle—twenty predators pretending to be civilized. Helix Dominion called it a “review,” but everyone knew it was a hunt. The next promotion meant power, and power was everything.

Brad was already playing the room. His smile was perfect, engineered for seduction; the light caught in his hair like he owned the sun. I watched the others orbit him, laughing too loudly at his easy charm. He didn’t deserve it—half of his numbers were mine anyway. I’d taken those accounts fair and square, pried them from his lazy fingers. And yet he still managed to look untouchable.

My tablet pulsed at my elbow, the file glowing like a live wire. Account 74-B, discrepancy detected.

My chance. My salvation.

When the director’s speech slowed to its usual drone, I struck.

“Before we conclude,” I said, letting the words slice through the hum of conversation, “there’s something that needs addressing.”

Chairs turned. Even Brad looked up, that perfect, patient expression of his—so smug, so certain I wouldn’t dare.

“I’ve found irregularities in one of Brad’s accounts,” I continued, projecting the data between us. Numbers scrolled across the air in red light. “Adjustments without authorization. Either incompetence or something far worse.”

For a heartbeat, silence. The city glowed behind the glass like fire beneath ice. I could taste victory.

Brad leaned forward, calm as gravity itself. “Irregularities,” he repeated softly, as if tasting the word. “You’re absolutely right, Verra. Those occurred after you took over the account.”

It was like being slapped in front of a crowd that wasn’t sure whether to laugh. The director’s brows lifted; a few of the others exchanged smirks. The data pulsed again, now an accusation aimed squarely at me.

“That can’t be—” I started, but Brad was already scrolling through the audit trail with practiced ease.

“See? Your credentials, your timestamps. But I’m sure it was just an oversight.” His smile was gentle, merciless. “We’ve all been overworked lately.”

The laughter this time was real. Thin, bright, venomous.

I could feel heat crawling up my neck. I wanted to tear the file out of the air, to shout that he was lying, that I’d been set up. Instead I sat frozen, a model of composure, because that’s what Helix executives do when they bleed—they do it behind perfect smiles.

The director waved a hand, bored already. “Compliance will handle it. Moving on.”

Moving on. Just like that. My triumph evaporated, replaced by a cold hollowness that gnawed at my ribs.

When the meeting adjourned, I gathered my files in silence. Brad’s laughter followed me out like perfume. The glass doors closed behind me, sealing the room’s heat inside.

In the corridor, the city stretched below—vast, indifferent. My reflection wavered on the glass, beautiful and furious, and for the first time I wondered if the thing staring back was cracking.