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Mitchell

I fire Myrna before I finish my first cup of coffee.

Not because she told Layla the truth.

I want to be very fucking clear about that.

I should've told Layla myself.

Why I hired her. What I was trying to protect.

I should’ve told her everything.

Days ago.

Weeks ago.

The fact that I didn't is my failure.

Myrna gets fired because she deliberately weaponized confidential information against someone I care about, interfered in my personal life, compromised my trust, and spoke to Layla in a way I wouldn't tolerate from anyone employed by one of my companies.

The ‘fat bitch’ comment alone would've done it.

I don't give a fuck how many years she's worked for me. I don't give a fuck how competent she's been. I don't even particularly care that her motivation was jealousy.

She hurt Layla deliberately.

And that makes firing her remarkably easy.

Security escorts her from the building at nine seventeen. At nine twenty-two, I call Sigma International Security. Because I have a second problem.

Some asshole published a fabricated story about my grandfather. And unlike my relationship with Layla, that's a problem I actually know how to solve.

Money.

Lawyers.

Information.

Retribution.

Finally, something fucking simple.

“Find out who wrote it.”

The man on the other end of the call doesn't waste time asking why. One of the reasons I use Sigma.

“The byline isn't real,” I continue. “Legal already checked. The author doesn't exist. The publication claims it came through a freelance submission portal.”

“Could be a burner.”

“Obviously.”

“You want the source?”

“I want everything.”

I lean back in my chair.