Let’s See

13

Ethan

As I stared at the spreadsheet, my thoughts churned. Jonathan’s smug face, Samantha’s indifference, and those tampered numbers—everything felt like a slow-building storm. The errors in the Markham files weren’t mine, but the blame had landed squarely on me. If Jonathan thought he could sabotage me without consequences, he was in for a rude awakening.

I opened the internal messaging app and typed out a quick message to Clara, my go-to for no-nonsense advice.

**Me:** *Hey, can we talk? Privately?*

**Clara:** *Sure, meet me in the break room in 5.*

I glanced around the office. Jonathan was nowhere in sight—probably off basking in his petty victory. Good. It gave me just enough time to regroup. I grabbed my coffee mug, willing my expression to remain neutral as I walked to the break room. Clara was already there, leaning against the counter with her arms crossed and a curious expression on her face.

“What’s going on? You looked stressed in your message,” she said, taking a sip of her tea.

“It’s Jonathan,” I began, lowering my voice to a near whisper. “He tampered with my files. I know it sounds crazy, but I’m sure of it. He’s been gunning for me for weeks.”

Clara raised an eyebrow. “What makes you so sure it’s him? That’s a bold accusation.”

I sighed, running a hand through my hair. “The errors in the Markham files—I triple-checked everything before submitting them. There’s no way those numbers came from me. It had to be someone else, and Jonathan has the motive.”

Clara frowned, setting her mug down. “He does have a reputation for playing dirty,” she admitted, her tone cautious. “But he’s also smart enough to cover his tracks. If he’s behind this, he’s not going to make it easy to prove.”

“Exactly,” I said, leaning against the counter. “I just need something—a shred of evidence—to pin this on him. Do you know anyone who might’ve seen him near my desk? Or heard anything unusual?”

Clara tilted her head, thinking. “Not off the top of my head,” she said after a moment. “But if he messed with your files, there’s got to be a trace. Maybe IT can help?”

Her suggestion sparked an idea. I straightened up, my mind racing. “You’re a genius, Clara.”

She smirked, brushing invisible dust off her shoulder. “Yeah, I know. Just don’t forget me when you’re sitting in the CEO’s office.”

“I won’t,” I promised, already planning my next move.

Back at my desk, I fired off an email to Max from IT, a laid-back guy who had helped me with a tech issue a few weeks ago.

**Subject:** *Urgent Assistance Needed*

*Hey Max,*

*I think someone accessed my workstation while I was away and tampered with my files. Is there any way to check the login or activity logs? This is really important.*

A few minutes later, my screen pinged with a reply.

**Max:** *Hey Ethan, I can pull the logs, but I’ll need Samantha’s approval. Want me to reach out to her or keep it low-key?*

I hesitated, my fingers hovering over the keyboard. Samantha wouldn’t approve without solid evidence, but going over her head could backfire. I decided to play it safe—for now.

**Me:** *Let’s keep it low-key for now. Just let me know if anything stands out.*

I hit send just as Jonathan’s voice cut through the air.

“Busy plotting your next disaster?” he sneered, leaning against my cubicle wall with a smug grin.

I glanced up, forcing my face into a neutral expression. “Just doing my job. Something you might want to try sometime.”

His grin widened, his tone dripping with mockery. “Careful, Ethan. That attitude’s not doing you any favors.”

I clenched my jaw, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a reaction. Instead, I turned back to my screen, pretending to ignore him.

Jonathan chuckled. “Suit yourself,” he said, walking away. But his words left a bitter taste in my mouth.

Hours passed, tension gnawing at me as I worked on fixing the Markham files. Just when I was starting to lose hope, Max emailed me again.

**Max:** *Pulled the logs. Someone accessed your station around 7:45 p.m. yesterday—definitely not you, unless you’ve got a twin. I’ve attached the details.*

My heart raced as I opened the attachment. The log showed a login under my credentials, but the IP address didn’t match my usual one. Someone had accessed my files remotely.

I forwarded the email to my personal account, careful to delete it from my work inbox. If Jonathan was behind this, he wasn’t working alone. The question was, who was helping him?

As I sat back, my mind buzzing with possibilities, Clara appeared by my desk. “Any luck?” she asked, glancing around to make sure no one was listening.

I nodded, lowering my voice. “Max found a remote login to my account. It wasn’t me. But whoever did this knows how to cover their tracks.”

Clara’s eyes narrowed. “If Jonathan’s behind this, he’s more dangerous than I thought. What’s your next move?”

I took a deep breath, my resolve hardening. “Confront him. But not until I have enough evidence to take him down for good.”

“Good,” Clara said, her voice firm. “Just be careful. If he’s willing to sabotage you like this, he won’t hesitate to go further.”

I nodded, the weight of her words sinking in. Jonathan had made his move. Now, it was my turn.