Two Little Secrets From My Boss

Chapter 176

Maya’s POV

The twenty-four-hour ultimatum passed six hours ago.

I've been sitting in my room waiting for the explosion. For Xander's knock on the door, his face is cold with betrayal when he demands to know who I really am.

For Archie's text asking me to meet him somewhere private where he'll tell me he knows everything. For my cover to blow wide open and my entire mission to disintegrate in real time.

Nothing happened.

Eleanor didn't act. Didn't tell Xander about my true identity. Didn't expose the files I've been accessing or the late-night searches through his office.

Didn't reveal my relationship with Archie or the six-year timeline that connects me to Gerald's operations.

Just... silence. Which means Eleanor is playing a longer game than I gave her credit for.

I pace my room, mind racing through the strategy. Eleanor isn't interested in simply exposing me.

If she were, she would have gone straight to Xander the moment I refused her alliance. Would have destroyed me immediately and moved on to the next threat.

But she didn't. Which means she's waiting.

Waiting for the perfect moment to weaponize the information. Waiting for when my destruction will cause maximum collateral damage.

When it will hurt Archie most—after he's fallen deeper, after the betrayal cuts sharper.

When it will prove Eleanor's narrative about Daphne's poor judgment—see what happens when you trust the wrong people? When it will create the most chaos, the most pain, the most leverage Eleanor can use to her advantage.

Eleanor wants my exposure to be catastrophic, so she's being patient.

The realization settles in my stomach like lead. I'm not safe because Eleanor showed mercy. I'm in danger because she's calculating exactly how to inflict maximum damage when she finally pulls the trigger.

I need insurance. Something to ensure Eleanor's silence even if the alliance offer is permanently off the table. Something that makes destroying me more costly than letting me continue.

Mutually assured destruction.

I open my laptop, pull up files I've been compiling for weeks. Initially it was just general reconnaissance—understanding everyone in the household, mapping relationships and vulnerabilities, gathering information that might prove useful later.

Now I'm repurposing it as leverage.

Eleanor's manipulation is documented in email trails I've intercepted. Messages to board members expressing "concern" about Daphne's condition. Calls to investors questioning her stability. Every whisper campaign is meticulously tracked and preserved.

The embezzlement shows up in financial discrepancies I traced through corporate accounts. Small amounts siphoned over years—nothing dramatic enough to trigger immediate audits, but substantial when you add it all together.

Money redirected through shell companies Eleanor thinks no one knows about. Funds that should have gone to the company instead flowing into accounts she controls.

The systematic undermining of Daphne is evidenced in phone records and witness statements I've collected from staff Eleanor thought were loyal.

Conversations where she positioned Daphne as unstable, unreliable, compromised by her pregnancy. Documentation of every calculated move in Eleanor's campaign to remove her daughter-in-law from power.

It's enough to destroy Eleanor completely—criminal charges for embezzlement, social exile when the manipulation becomes public. Her reputation, the carefully cultivated image of concerned grandmother and protective mother-in-law, turned to ash.

Everything she's built, everything she's protected, gone.

If Eleanor exposes my true identity, I release everything I have on her. We both lose, but at least we lose together. At least she goes down knowing that destroying me cost her everything too.

I start backing up the files. Three separate cloud storage locations with different security protocols. Encrypted copies sent to email accounts Eleanor doesn't know exist.

Dead-man switches set up through automated services—if I don't check in every seventy-two hours, everything releases automatically.

To Xander, to the board, to law enforcement and media outlets that would love a story about corporate embezzlement and family betrayal.

It takes two hours to set up properly, two hours of coding and encrypting and triple-checking every failsafe. By the time I'm done, my hands ache from typing and my eyes burn from screen glare.

But it's done. Eleanor can't touch me now without guaranteeing her own destruction.

Except that's not quite true, is it? Because Eleanor has already demonstrated she's willing to sacrifice things to achieve her goals. She's patient. Strategic. She might decide that mutual destruction is acceptable if it means taking me down with her.

Which means I still can't trust this protection to hold indefinitely.

I close the laptop, stand and move to the window, staring out at the dark grounds. The security lights cast long shadows across the lawn. Somewhere out there, cameras are recording everything. Archie is probably reviewing footage, looking for more evidence of my lies.

I need to accelerate my timeline. Dramatically.

Push harder, take bigger risks, get the final pieces of evidence I need about what happened to Lora—the proof that will make six years of lies and betrayal mean something. Then disappear before the inevitable explosion destroys everyone in range.

I have weeks, maybe days before Archie's suspicions crystallize into certainty he can't ignore. Before Eleanor's patience runs out and she decides mutual destruction is worth it.

Before my own guilt makes confession inevitable and I tell Archie everything just to stop carrying the weight alone.

The files are ready to release. The evidence against Eleanor is compiled and weaponized. The insurance policy is in place. Now I just need to finish what I started, get what I came for and get out before the walls close in completely.

I think about Archie's hand in mine this afternoon. The way he chose to believe my lie about Lora being a distant cousin, the relief on his face when I gave him an explanation that let him keep loving me without questioning his own judgment.

I think about Daphne trusting me with her children, with her schedule, with her vulnerabilities while she's fighting for her daughter's life and managing Eleanor's psychological warfare.

I think about the twins asking if the baby will be okay. About Nina's optimism and Lisa's brutal logic and the way they both look at me like I'm someone safe.

I think about Lora. About the promise I made six years ago. About justice that was supposed to be clean and righteous but has turned into something that hurts everyone it touches.

My reflection stares back at me from the dark window. The woman looking back doesn't look like the girl who promised Lora revenge six years ago. That girl was certain, righteous, knew exactly who the villains were and what justice meant.

This woman is uncertain, compromised, drowning in collateral damage and lies and love she never planned for.

I don't know which version I hate more.

The girl who started this with clear convictions and moral certainty? Or the woman who's become exactly what she swore she'd never be—someone who hurts people she cares about to achieve goals she's no longer sure are worth achieving?

Both. I hate both.

It’s time to finish this. Time to become the villain in someone else's story so I can be the hero in Lora's.

The clock is ticking.