Chapter 10 - Confronting the Mole
At 2:15 AM, the glass double doors of the executive suite chimed.
Nathan Cole walked in, holding a cardboard tray carrying two large coffees. He had already changed out of his tuxedo into a fleece vest and jeans, maintaining the casual, dependable look he had perfected for over a decade.
"Hey, man," Nathan said, setting a coffee cup in front of Julian with an expression of deep, mournful sympathy. "I saw the news alerts. I’ve been trying to call you all night. Bro, I am so, so sorry. Victoria is a monster. I can't believe what she did to your mom—"
Nathan paused, his eyes flickering toward me, then down to the thick stack of forensic audit papers laid out between us.
Julian didn't touch the coffee. He looked up at his best friend with eyes that were utterly hollow.
"How long, Nathan?" Julian asked.
Nathan let out a forced, uneasy chuckle. "How long what? Man, you're exhausted. You need to go home, get some sleep, and let Arthur handle the press release—"
"How long have you been sleeping with her?" Julian said, his voice flat, dangerously devoid of emotion.
The color instantly vanished from Nathan’s face. His hands twitched near his pockets. "Julian... what are you talking about? She was your fiancée—"
"Arthur pulled the access logs," Julian said, rising from his chair slowly, towering over his longtime partner. "You bypassed the secondary encryption token at 6:02 AM. From your private terminal in office 4B. The same terminal that sent fourteen encrypted messages to an anonymous ProtonMail account linked to Victoria’s personal device last week."
Nathan swallowed hard. The friendly, supportive facade dissolved, replaced by a cold, cornered sneer.
"You never saw what was coming, did you, Julian?" Nathan said, taking half a step back toward the door. "You sit on the top floor, the golden boy whose daddy left him a construction empire, taking all the credit while I slaved eighteen hours a day over the structural designs. Victoria recognized who really drove this company. She knew that without me, Vance Infrastructure is nothing but a name."
"My father built this name on integrity," Julian said, taking a slow step toward him. "You built yours on treason."
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"Good luck proving it in court," Nathan sneered, reaching into his pocket for his phone. "The transfer is done. The digital token was executed. You can't trace the final blockchain route without the private key, and that key is locked away where your high-priced lawyers will never touch it."
"You're right," I said quietly, leaning forward and turning my laptop screen toward him. "We couldn't trace it. But the Financial Crimes Unit, who froze all associated assets under the Patriot Act an hour ago upon Richard Sterling's confession? They certainly could."
