Page 39 of Alien War Daddy's Got Rizz
Eyebrows lift.
Tidball’s smile tightens.
I stand.
“I’ve worked with Mr. Grau directly,” I say. My voice is steady — damn the tremor in my gut. “He has never once accessed restricted CY8 protocol without my knowledge. And Iexplicitlyauthorized everything he’s done. If you have a breach, then we track the breach — but don’t blame a man who has had no reason to violate protocol.”
Silence.
Then someone clears their throat.
“CEO Greenfield,” another exec says — the kind with hair too perfect and ambition too sharp — “protocol still suggests we initiate containment procedures. If this breach is real, we’re exposed.”
I turn to him, eyes narrowed.
“Containment doesn’t mean scapegoating.”
But the damage is done. Already this has become a blood in the water scenario, and my insides are twisting like sharks circling.
Tidball leans forward — that smile still there, but not quite reaching his eyes.
“Yara, I’m simply suggesting caution. If there’s any chance—and I stresschance—that Mr. Grau was involved in unauthorized data access, we owe it to our shareholders to take it seriously.”
He saysshareholderslike it’s a human set of organs and not the warm, beating heart of my father’s legacy.
My pulse spikes.
“He’s my guest,” I say, jaw tight, “and I will not throw him under the bus at the first sign of inconvenience.”
Gasps.
That does it.
One of the execs snatches up a tablet, taps a few times, and suddenly another holo pops up: a screenshot of access logs timestamped inside the building. They flare with those damned red warnings and tags and blinking digits.
“Here,” the exec says, “right here. See? Look at this.”
I study it — and my knees weakly brace against the table. I want to rip my eyes away, tell my brain to ignore it — but the evidence is slick and cold and screaming.
Itlookslike Grau.
But something in me refuses to believe it.
“Let me see the unaltered logs,” I demand.
Ellipses hang in the air like smoke.
Tidball tilts his head, voice as sweet as poison.
“I’m sure IT can provide the originals once they verify the metadata.”
Which is corporate for:
“We already scrubbed them.”
I can taste bile at the back of my throat.
My heart thumps — not from fear, but from betrayal, confusion, and some deeper pull I can’t name yet.
