Sleeping felt impossible. Restlessness gnawed at Anya, a cold, bitter certainty settling deep in her gut. Alexander Thorne’s smooth deflections from their last conversation replayed, each word a carefully constructed wall. He had lied. Not with outright falsehoods, but with practiced omissions, with a dismissive wave of corporate jargon that had twisted her stomach into knots. She needed proof. Something tangible. Her suspicion wasn't enough; her heartbreak meant nothing without solid evidence. Rising from her bed, Anya moved to her desk. Her laptop screen glowed, reflecting her tense expression. She still had her old access credentials, remnants from her brief stint in the administrative department before her culinary role. Could she risk it? Yes. The memory of her parents’ strained faces, the boarded-up windows of their bakery, fueled her. She owed them this much. Quickly, she logged in, bypassing the usual culinary portal. She navigated to the internal server, a labyrinth of folders and subfolders. Her heart hammered against her ribs, a frantic drumbeat against the silence of her apartment. Searching through the extensive archives for property acquisitions felt like sifting through sand for a diamond. Thorne Corp dealt in countless properties, each acquisition logged, categorized, and filed away. Where would *her* property be hidden? She started with recent acquisitions in the downtown area, specifically around the old business district. Pages of entries scrolled past, blurring into a monotonous list of addresses and dates. A cold dread settled when she didn’t immediately find it. Had she been wrong? Was it a different entity, a subsidiary she hadn't considered? Then, a thought struck her. Alexander Thorne wasn't just a CEO; he was a man obsessed with control, with his personal brand. Would he truly let a smaller entity handle something so significant, so close to his main project? She switched her search parameters, narrowing the focus to direct acquisitions made under the

Chapter 24: Undeniable Proof