Knuckles white, Luna gripped the folder. Inside lay the damning evidence: the security logs, the timestamps, the shadowy figure. A knot tightened in her stomach. Confronting Alistair would be difficult, potentially dangerous. But the Amulet of Lyra was gone, and his name pulsed at the core of her suspicions. She couldn't wait any longer. Stepping into Alistair's opulent office felt like entering a different world. Sunlight streamed through tall windows, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air. His mahogany desk, usually cluttered, was unnervingly tidy. He sat behind it, a picture of calm, reviewing documents with a detached focus. Looking up, Alistair offered a practiced smile. "Luna. To what do I owe the pleasure? I thought you were deep in preparations for the gala." 'Alistair,' she began, her voice steadier than she felt, 'we need to discuss the Amulet of Lyra. And the circumstances of its disappearance.' He leaned back, a casual gesture that still radiated authority. "Ah, yes. A most regrettable incident. I've already dispatched a team to investigate internally. Rest assured, Luna, every possible measure is being taken." Luna moved closer to the desk, placing the folder down, though she didn't open it. "Measures, yes. But I have some concerns about the details. Specifically, the security protocols from that night." Rubbing a hand over his chin, Alistair's smile softened, taking on a paternal, almost patronizing, edge. "Luna, my dear, you're looking rather stressed. Perhaps you're overthinking this. It was a lapse, an unfortunate oversight, nothing more." He offered a soft, dismissive wave. "These things happen, even in the most secure environments. We're dealing with very sophisticated individuals, after all." 'Sophisticated, perhaps,' Luna countered, pushing past his placating tone, 'but the system showed an anomaly. A specific access log that night, one that was… hidden.' Alistair's gaze flickered, a momentary hardening in his eyes, quickly masked. He picked up a solid gold letter opener, turning it over in his fingers. "Hidden? That sounds rather dramatic, Luna. Our system logs are routinely audited. What exactly are you implying?" Carefully, she chose her words. "I'm implying a deeper breach. One that suggests someone knew exactly how to navigate our vulnerabilities. And perhaps even how to cover their tracks on a more intricate level than a simple 'oversight'." He let out a short, humorless chuckle. "Paranoia, Luna. It's a dangerous companion. Our security has been reinforced. We've brought in an external firm to review everything. New cameras are being installed, new biometric scanners put in place." 'But what about the *specifics* of the night in question?' she pressed, refusing to let him deflect. 'The footage? The individual who triggered the hidden log?' His expression tightened subtly. "The footage from that particular quadrant experienced a… technical disruption. A common occurrence with older systems, you understand. Our IT team is actively working to recover any corrupt files." Luna's jaw clenched. Technical disruption. It was the oldest excuse in the book. 'And the new security? Will it include a full forensic audit of the network from that timeframe? A deep dive into all access points?' Alistair finally set down the letter opener, his posture stiffening. "My dear Luna, I appreciate your diligence. Truly. But these are operational details that are being handled at a higher level. Your expertise is invaluable in curating our collections, not in cyber forensics." He leaned forward, his voice dropping slightly. "Focus on the upcoming exhibit. It's a critical time for the atelier. Distracting yourself with unsubstantiated theories will only pull your attention from where it's truly needed." His words were a velvet-gloved slap. He was shutting her down, dismissing her concerns as emotional overreactions, not credible investigations. The casual tone from before had vanished, replaced by a cold, unyielding wall. 'So, you're saying there's nothing more to investigate about the Amulet's disappearance beyond what you've already implemented?' Her voice was flat, betraying none of the frustration boiling within her. Alistair offered another tight smile. "I'm saying we have a plan. A robust plan. And I have full confidence in our team to execute it. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a rather important call regarding the acquisition of the Florentine Emerald." He picked up a receiver, effectively ending their conversation. His gaze, as he turned back to his desk, was unreadable, a blank slate that revealed nothing. She stood for a moment, the weight of his dismissal pressing down on her. Leaving his office, Luna felt a cold dread settle deep in her bones. His words echoed in her mind, hollow and unconvincing. Every assurance he offered felt like a deliberate misdirection. Could he genuinely be so oblivious to the gravity of the situation? To the clear signs of an inside job, of corporate espionage reaching into the heart of the atelier? Or was this carefully crafted ignorance, a deliberate shield to protect something far darker? A secret he couldn't afford to have uncovered. The question gnawed at her, a bitter taste. He wasn't just dismissing her; he was actively obstructing. His actions screamed cover-up. Alistair knew more. She was certain of it. And that certainty chilled her to the bone, deepening the shadow of suspicion that now engulfed him.

Chapter 17: Alistair's Cold Shoulder