Chapter 6 The alibi and the lie

Camille had always imagined that when a company went into crisis, the world would know. Sirens, screaming, maybe fires in the distance.

Instead, it was silence.

At Ford International, the storm didn't roar-it simmered. Tense glances. Sudden shut doors. Phones ringing, then being slammed down. People whispering names they wouldn't say aloud five days ago.

And Christian?

He was calm.

Too calm.

The man at the center of a possible international embezzlement scandal still wore a three-piece suit and poured his espresso like it was just another Wednesday.

Camille watched him from her desk, hands curled in her lap.

"You're my alibi."

The words echoed over and over in her mind.

But what did that really mean?

Was she a shield? A scapegoat? Or something far more dangerous-a person he now had to keep close because she knew too much?

By 10 a.m., Nathan had swept the floor twice already, barking at IT to lock down all accounts and devices. People were whispering about arrests, about shareholders panicking.

Christian hadn't called her into his office.

Yet.

So when her phone buzzed and a name she didn't recognize flashed across the screen, she almost ignored it.

UNKNOWN CALLER.

She picked up.

"Camille Hart?"

"Yes?"

The voice was low. Female. Polished.

"My name is Diana. I'm the VP of Strategic Growth at Ford International's New York office. I believe we should speak."

Camille frowned. "About what?"

"About what Christian Ford hasn't told you."

Midtown Café – 11:12 a.m.

Camille chose the café Diana suggested-a small, upscale place nestled between two designer buildings. Quiet. Private.

Diana was already seated when she arrived, looking effortless in black silk and red lipstick. The kind of woman who didn't beg for power-she wore it.

"Ms. Hart." Diana stood, offered a handshake, and gestured to the seat opposite. "Thank you for coming."

Camille sat carefully. "What's this about?"

"I'll be blunt." Diana leaned in. "You're in over your head. And the man you think is protecting you? He's setting you up."

Camille stiffened. "Excuse me?"

Diana placed a thin folder on the table.

Another folder.

Always another folder.

She slid it over.

"Read page three."

Camille hesitated, then flipped to the page.

What she saw made her blood go cold.

It was a security log from before she'd even applied for the job at Ford International. A file marked RECRUITMENT TARGET – CAMILLE HART.

Christian had her name, background, and personal data on file.

Before their "chance" meeting at the gala.

Before the interview.

Before everything.

Her mouth went dry.

"I don't understand," she whispered.

"Oh, I think you do," Diana said coolly. "You were never randomly hired. Christian picked you. For something. And now that this scandal is exploding? He'll make sure you fall with him, unless you get out."

Camille shook her head slowly.

"No. He said he needed an alibi. That doesn't mean-"

"It means exactly what it sounds like." Diana leaned forward. "When the story hits that billions were siphoned from the Singapore project and the audit you uncovered links directly to someone close to him... who do you think will burn first?"

Me, Camille thought.

They'll burn me first.

Back at Ford HQ – 1:05 p.m.

Camille walked into the office like she hadn't just had her entire reality split open in a café.

Christian looked up the moment she walked in.

"Where were you?" he asked.

"Coffee run," she lied.

"You didn't answer your phone."

She held up the now-silent device. "Dead battery."

He didn't look convinced.

Still, he stood and gestured for her to follow him.

"We're having a press briefing. I need you by my side."

Camille blinked. "Why me?"

"Because the vultures are circling. And the only way to keep them from biting is to show I have nothing to hide."

And I'm your shield, she realized.

Your human shield.

Ford International Lobby – Press Briefing – 2:00 p.m.

The lobby had been transformed into a press zone. Bright lights. Dozens of cameras. A branded backdrop and rows of mics.

Christian stepped up, all CEO charm and composure. Camille stood half a step behind, heart racing.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he began smoothly, "let me be clear-Ford International is cooperating fully with all investigations into the Singapore account discrepancies. We remain transparent and accountable."

Flashes lit the room.

A reporter stood. "Mr. Ford, were you aware of the embezzlement before your assistant-Ms. Hart-exposed it?"

Christian didn't flinch.

"I brought Ms. Hart on because of her exceptional attention to detail. Her discovery was part of a larger internal review I personally launched."

Lies, Camille thought.

Or half-truths, at best.

Another reporter: "Can you confirm rumors that Ms. Hart is now under official protection?"

Camille's eyes widened. What?

Christian answered, "Given recent threats, yes. We're ensuring her safety while the matter is ongoing."

So it's public now.

Everyone knows I'm the girl who found the fraud. The girl they're coming for.

But the real ambush hadn't come yet.

It came when a final reporter stepped forward and asked:

"Mr. Ford, there's speculation this assistant has a personal history with you. That the two of you were seen together before her employment. Is there truth to that?"

The air thinned.

Christian didn't look at Camille.

But he didn't deny it either.

"I don't comment on personal rumors," he said.

And walked off.

Camille followed, but her hands were shaking.

Christian's Office – 3:40 p.m.

She stormed in behind him.

"You said this was about survival. About power. Not-this."

Christian turned, jaw tight. "You think I control the media?"

"I think you control everything."

"I'm protecting you."

"No." She stepped closer. "You're managing me. Like a piece in your damn game."

Then, her voice cracked.

"Why was I on your radar before I applied, Christian?"

He froze.

Then walked to the bar and poured himself a drink.

"Because I knew who your father was."

That stopped her cold.

"What?"

He turned to her, drink in hand, eyes darker than ever.

"Your father-Daniel Hart-was on the original Singapore project. Five years ago. When Esme died."

Camille staggered back. "No-my father left the company years ago."

"No, Camille. He disappeared. After someone paid him to forge financial statements."

Her ears rang.

"No. He died in a car crash."

Christian stepped forward.

"Are you sure?"

Silence stretched between them.

"I needed you close," he admitted. "Because you're the last thread to everything that started this mess."

Tears stung her eyes.

"So you used me... because of my father."

"I didn't expect to care." His voice softened. "I didn't expect you."

And for a moment-just one moment-the air shifted again.

He stepped closer.

She didn't move.

His hand lifted, brushed her jawline.

"I need you to trust me, Camille."

"Why should I?"

His eyes dropped to her lips.

And then-

His phone buzzed.

He checked it. Paused. His face changed.

"Police are here."

"For what?"

He looked at her.

"For you."