Adeline’s POV
I froze at my workstation. The data logs were wrong—rows missing, timestamps shifted. Half of my research files had been wiped from the main terminal. The encryption I’d built myself was still intact, but the records behind it were gone. Vanished clean, as if they had never existed.
Someone had stolen my work.
I slammed the cabinet shut, heart pounding. “Clara!”
She appeared in the doorway, breathless. “What happened?”
“Check the access records,” I snapped. “Someone used my clearance this morning.”
She hesitated, then turned to the terminal, fingers flying. The monitor flickered, revealing an entry stamped six hours ago—my ID code, my signature. But I hadn’t been here.
The pit in my stomach hardened.
Clara looked up. “It’s your login. But the timestamp doesn’t match y
