Silas moved with a terrifying precision. His jaw was set, eyes hard as flint. Calling his head of security, Ben Carter, he barked out orders, each word clipped and sharp. "Secure Clara's apartment. Immediately. Two men, round-the-clock. Another two shadowing Liam at all times. I want a full sweep of their homes and offices. Bug detection. Physical threats. Everything." Elara watched him, a knot of fear in her stomach loosening slightly. His competence was a stark contrast to her own helpless panic. "And the media angle?" she asked, her voice still a little shaky. Liam's name had been dragged through enough mud. Her brother deserved better. Silas turned, his gaze softening minutely when it met hers. "Ben will handle the counter-narrative," he assured her. "We'll plant stories, control the flow. Frame Seraphina's attacks as desperate attempts to smear. She won't touch Liam's reputation. Not again." Relief washed over Elara, cold then warm. Knowing Liam and Clara were being protected, truly protected, was a balm to her frayed nerves. Silas’s presence, his unwavering resolve, was a fortress. But a deeper dread lingered. Seraphina knew too much. Too much about Liam's past, about Clara, about even Elara’s current relationship with Silas. This information leak was internal. It had to be. "The mole," Elara said, her voice barely a whisper. "How did she know? Who is giving her this?" Silas's eyes narrowed, the flint returning. "We find out," he stated, his tone brooking no argument. "Tonight. Ben, assemble the core team. This leak stops now." Hours later, the penthouse office buzzed with a tense energy. Screens glowed, data streams scrolling, fingers flying over keyboards. Ben Carter, a man built like a brick wall with eyes that missed nothing, led the charge. Jax, Silas’s tech wizard, worked silently, his focus absolute. He delved into network logs, communication records, server access. Every digital footprint was being scrutinized. Elara sat beside Silas, offering her own insights, trying to piece together the puzzle. She recounted every conversation, every small detail she’d shared, trying to find a pattern, a vulnerability. "Seraphina mentioned Liam's gambling debts, his old club," Elara mused aloud. "That was years ago. Public knowledge, but not something easily accessed by just anyone." "And Clara's school, her schedule," Silas added. "That's deeply private. Someone with intimate knowledge of my security protocols, or someone with access to my personal files." Slowly, methodically, the net tightened. Jax discovered a series of encrypted messages, routed through untraceable servers. The content, when finally decrypted, was damning. Specific details about Liam’s financial history. Information about the security setup at Silas’s properties. Even schedules that only a few trusted individuals had access to. Ben cross-referenced the timings of the data transfers with employee access logs. He looked for anomalies, for anyone working late, for unusual network activity. The data pointed to a specific window, a specific access point. "The encryption key matches a protocol used by internal PR communications," Jax reported, his voice flat. "A private channel, rarely used, for sensitive media strategies." A cold sensation prickled Elara's skin. PR. That meant someone in Silas’s public relations department. Someone close. Silas’s gaze snapped to Ben. "Who has access to that channel? Limited access, I mean." Ben pulled up a list. It was short. Silas, himself, Jax, and… His finger paused on a name, a name that made Silas’s jaw clench. Cassandra Thorne. His Head of PR. A woman who had been with him for years, since the early days of Thorne Industries. "Cassandra?" Elara breathed, shock coloring her voice. "But…why?" Ben nodded grimly. "We found a ghost account, registered under a false name, linked to her personal device. Substantial sums of money have been transferred to it over the last few months. Untraceable, but consistent with the timeline of the leaks." Jax projected an image onto the main screen: an email. It was a draft, never sent, but saved in Cassandra's private folder. It detailed Seraphina's demands, the proposed attacks on Liam and Clara, and Cassandra’s own suggestions for maximizing the public impact. Her motive became chillingly clear. Buried within the draft were veiled complaints about being undervalued, overlooked. A desire for more power, more recognition. A simmering resentment that Silas, she felt, hadn't appreciated her enough, especially since Elara had entered his life. Silas stared at the screen, his face a mask of disbelief. Cassandra. His Head of PR. The woman he had promoted, trusted with the public face of his empire. She had been feeding Seraphina all along. His hands balled into fists, white-knuckled and trembling slightly. The betrayal was a physical blow, worse than any financial loss. Another person he had placed his faith in, another intimate associate, had proven to be a viper in his inner circle. Silas felt a cold, deep rage begin to simmer, burning away any remaining shock. He felt sickened, yet again, by the perfidy of those closest to him.

Chapter 44: The Mole Revealed