Episode 10 – Secrets Behind Closed Doors
Jasmine barely slept that night.
Callum's words kept echoing in her head. "Now the cost has doubled."
What the hell did that even mean?
She paced her living room, clutching the flash drive she'd stolen from the archives like a lifeline. She didn't dare plug it back in—especially after the strange message on her laptop the night before. Her thoughts were racing faster than her heartbeat.
Callum knew more than he was letting on.
And now, she had proof that something dark lurked beneath Phoenix Corp's glossy surface.
---
The next morning, Jasmine arrived at work early, hoping to find Callum before the day's chaos began.
But his office was empty.
Even the blinds were drawn shut—an oddity in itself. The man practically lived behind transparent glass walls, a symbol of his confidence and control.
She waited.
And waited.
By ten a.m., a tight-lipped Max approached her desk.
"Mr. Reed won't be in today."
Jasmine's heart dropped. "Is everything okay?"
Max hesitated. "He's… dealing with a private matter."
Then he leaned in, his voice barely above a whisper. "Stay sharp, Jasmine. Not everyone in this company is who they seem."
Her stomach clenched. "What do you mean?"
But Max was already walking away.
---
Left with more questions than answers, Jasmine went back to her desk. Her hands hovered over her keyboard, but she couldn't focus. Her instincts screamed at her to leave it alone, but her heart? Her heart was tangled in Callum's silence, in his warnings, in the ghost of what they once had.
She opened the encrypted document again—offline this time. Hidden in the fine print was a name she hadn't noticed before.
Eleanor Whitmore.
It didn't ring a bell.
She searched the Phoenix Corp employee database. Nothing.
She Googled it—and found an obituary.
Eleanor Whitmore, 37, former internal auditor at Phoenix Corp, died in a car accident five years ago.
The same time Callum disappeared.
Jasmine's breath caught.
Coincidence? Or cover-up?
Her screen buzzed with a calendar alert. A meeting—set by Callum, before he vanished.
She was to meet with an external partner from Whitmore Enterprises.
The name made her skin prickle.
---
The meeting room was sleek, cold, and silent. Jasmine sat alone, waiting. When the door finally opened, a tall man in his late forties entered. Salt-and-pepper hair. Sharp navy suit. Eyes that didn't blink enough.
"Ms. Hart, I presume," he said smoothly, taking a seat across from her.
"Yes. And you are…?"
"Damien Whitmore. Eleanor was my sister."
Jasmine froze.
"I believe you've been doing some digging," Damien continued, his tone polite but chilling. "I'd caution you against it."
"Excuse me?"
He leaned forward. "Whatever you think you've found—stop. It won't end well for you."
Jasmine's fingers curled into fists under the table. "Are you threatening me?"
"I'm protecting you. From ghosts better left buried."
Before she could respond, he stood and walked out, leaving a business card on the table.
"Some answers come at a cost." it read on the back.
---
Later that day, Jasmine received a call from an unlisted number.
"Jasmine Hart?" a robotic voice asked.
"Yes?"
"We have information about Eleanor Whitmore. Meet us tonight. 9 p.m. Alley behind Argo's Café. Come alone."
The line went dead.
Jasmine stared at her phone.
Her heart thundered.
---
At 8:58 p.m., Jasmine stood in the shadows behind Argo's Café. The alley smelled like damp brick and engine oil. Her breath fogged in the cold air. She wore a hoodie, her flash drive tucked deep in her pocket.
Footsteps echoed.
A hooded figure approached.
"You brought it?" the voice was low, distorted.
She nodded and handed over a copy of the flash drive.
The figure plugged it into a small tablet, scanning.
"You don't know what you've stepped into," they said, handing it back. "Eleanor found out something she wasn't supposed to. She tried to expose it. Two days later, her brakes failed."
Jasmine swallowed hard. "What was it? What was she trying to expose?"
"They were laundering money through fake subsidiaries. Offshore accounts, silent partners. She had names. Including one you'd recognize."
"Who?"
A long pause.
Then the figure whispered—
"Callum Reed."
Jasmine's stomach dropped.
"No," she said. "He's not—he wouldn't—"
"He was part of it. Maybe not by choice, but he was involved."
The figure turned to leave.
"Wait," Jasmine called. "Why are you helping me?"
A soft laugh. "Because if you don't stop them, no one will."
And just like that, they were gone.
---
Jasmine stood alone in the alley, trembling.
If Callum was involved… what did that mean for everything between them?
For their past?
Their present?
Her fingers closed around the flash drive.
She needed the truth.
And she was going to get it—even if it broke her.