Pointing Fingers

DAMIAN'S POV

I was still trying to piece together what Mum had said when my assistant's call came in, just confirming my mum's information to be true.

I paced the room breathlessly, fists balled.

2.4 TB of internal data leaked into the dark web by an unknown source?

No way!!

No fucking way! I slammed my balled fist into the solid wall—once, twice—and I continued until my knuckles bled red with blood.

I dialed back my assistant. "What the hell is going on, Mr. Tones?" My voice was high-pitched and boiling in rage.

I heard his breath quiver. He stammered, claiming he was also confused.

The stats that got leaked could cost us the company, shut us down, or see us relinquished.

"You better fix it before I get there!" I barked, even though I knew that it was never going to be easy to fix.

The mess would cost me a lot. I threw on a jacket over loose pants.

I checked the clock: 8:43 PM. It usually takes a 30 to 35-minute drive to get to the main building at normal driving speed.

I glanced around, grabbing my car keys.

Rain was leaning against the bathroom door frame, eyes bearing lots of questions.

I cared less to explain anything to her as I stormed out.

My phone buzzed with notifications from the internet and calls from the company's board of trustees.

My Dad had called countless times, but I ignored them all.

I opened the I*******m app, and all the posts bore almost the same headline: #DeleteTheAudrelis, plastered boldly over screenshots of the leaked data.

I hissed in frustration as I closed the app.

Whoever leaked the stats really took his or her time and did a clean job.

It was 9:07 PM when I got to the building housing the empire.

I parked along the driveway and stepped down.

Visibly angry and disorganized, I took slow, calculated breaths, trying to steady my breathing.

I mustn't be seen as vulnerable or weak by my employees.

When I had made sure my breathing was calm and stable, I took the elevator to the top floor, where the IT and Communications Department is housed.

The elevator dinged open as I stepped out. The IT team was hunched over their systems, bright screens full of codes and data, hands hastily moving on their keyboards.

Mr. Tones met me halfway.

"Good evening, Boss." His shoulders were tense, and he was visibly panicking. I gave him a once-over as I stepped past him.

I didn't have the luxury for unnecessary pleasantries. The empire—my legacy—was on fire.

I stepped into the hall-like office and met the Senior IT personnel. He wasn't looking tensed and scared like the rest of his team, but he was visibly disturbed.

He stood up, skipping pleasantries. A gentleman; he clearly understood the mood.

He rolled out tiny bits of relevant information and the progress they had made so far. They had traced the source to an unknown public Wi-Fi in Camden Laundrette before it vanished. The communications team had also made a post nudging the public to stay calm while the issue was being resolved.

None of that information mattered to me. I needed them to trace the rat down and wipe the data from the internet.

My phone buzzed noisily, the screen flashing on: Daddy as the caller ID.

I rubbed my temple as I swiped the green button to accept the call. I had been ignoring the old man's calls, and he must be worried as hell.

Plugging in my earbuds, I waited for him to speak up.

A moment passed before his voice came in—low and a bit frustrated, or was that disappointment?

"Damian, I know you better than this... How could you possibly have let such data sneak out from the company's website?" He huffed down a hiss. Not giving me a moment to reply or defend myself, he added, "Take it easy, I'll fly in tomorrow morning to help." Just like that, the line went dead.

I breathed a sigh of relief. The old man sure knows how to handle tough situations better than I do.

It was time to dismiss the crew; they had been here since morning, and work hours had long been over.

I spotted Mr. Tones bent over at the company's central data display screen. He was sweating—poor man, he knew I would hold him accountable should this linger further.

I waved him over and instructed him to go home to his family. He has a newborn and a postpartum wife to take care of.

He hesitated for a minute before he finally tendered his goodbye and left. It was 10:12 PM already.

I also dismissed the other teams and told them to go home and rest. They all left except the Senior IT personnel.

I sank into the nearest seat, exhausted and weak, while the Senior IT personnel, Mr. Smith, went back to his system to continue combing for any possible traces.

Letting all the stress of the evening take over, I drifted away into dreamland.

I had no idea how long I slept before Mr. Smith woke me up with a tap.

Dragging my eyelids open, I met his face—serious and void of sleep. He was holding a white paper file. "Boss, I think I found something."

I sat up lazily as he lowered himself into another chair opposite mine.

"Spill it," I said. A few minutes passed without him saying a word.

He dropped the file on the table before us and gestured for me to go through it. I scanned the papers one by one, carefully.

I found nothing interesting until I got to the last page. It contained the access log for a major drive code, which is only accessible by four persons: myself, Daddy, Mummy, and Ethan.

My stomach tightened. This only meant that the culprit was one of the four of us.

I looked at Mr. Smith, hoping to find answers, but his face remained straight and blunt.

For everything I knew, Daddy was the number one person who understood the implications of letting such data out, and why would he even think of jeopardizing his own empire—his sweat? He had been so focused on the Africa company that he barely had the time for the empire over here, so clearly he was out of the equation.

Then Mummy—just like Dad, they had built this empire from scratch since they got married, even before they had us, and she was hyper-aware of the damage the leaked data would cause. She was also the first person who notified me of the leaked data this evening, and her voice had been stern and distorted, laced with disappointment in me. So she was out of the puzzle too.

Then me?

Hell no!!

I knew better than to be an idiot. Even in my worst mood, I never meddled with the empire's hidden data.

I was always extra careful.

This empire held my life and career.

The last person: Ethan, my elder brother—an addict and a drug abuser.

I had warned Mum against letting him have access to the major drive code, but she refused.

He was the only possible person to have accessed the data and let it out.

What would be his motive? He wanted to get back at me? Or at Daddy? He still wanted to prove I wasn't worthy to run the empire?

He knew it clearly wasn't my fault that Daddy chose me over him to head the empire.

I mean, Ethan had always wanted to run the empire as the first son, but Daddy refused. Growing up, I had always loved music. I dreamt of becoming a world-popular artist one day; I already had my music genre in mind.

While Ethan focused all his attention on the empire—learning about codes, taking classes, and hoping for Daddy to send him to Imperial College London to further his Tech and Engineering career—he had studied so hard and labored to be on his best behavior just so Daddy would be convinced enough to secure him a slot at the institution when the next session began.

He wasn't the smartest, got into trouble almost every time, and picked fights with the neighborhood kids. As such, he wasn't Daddy's favorite—I was.

One summer night after we had dinner, Daddy announced that he had secured an admission slot at Imperial College.

We were all happy. Ethan was the happiest—his face beamed. I was happy for him. His hard work and dedication were about to pay off.

But then Daddy cleared his throat, wiped his hands with the dining cloth, and dropped a bombshell: Ethan wasn't the one whom the slot was secured for; rather, the slot was in my name.

Everywhere went silent. Ethan's face fell. It took Mum a while to collect herself. I was left speechless because, for all it was worth, I couldn't recall telling Daddy or anyone else that I wanted to leave my music dreams for Tech.

Daddy had to be kidding us.

I pleaded with Daddy to rebook the slot in Ethan's name because I wasn't interested. The old man said his mind was made up, and there was no going back.

Everything—especially Ethan's life—changed that night.

He became so dull and locked himself up in his room all day. He didn't speak to anyone. He was always lonely and depressed. During that period, he turned to drugs and clubbing.

Daddy learned about it, froze all his accounts, and denied him access to funds.

Two months later, I left for Imperial College to study Tech. I felt terrified going to live my brother's lifetime dream while abandoning mine, but this was what Daddy wanted, and I couldn't disobey him.

I saw betrayal and hurt in Ethan's eyes the night I went to announce my departure to him. He didn't say a word to me.

I left home the next day. We never spoke again—not through calls or texts.

I later learned that he was sent to a private rehab facility against his wish, where he spent almost three years in order to protect the empire's name because he was spiraling further into drugs and alcohol.

And when Daddy officially announced I would head the empire in his absence, Ethan wasn't in support.

So I was 90% certain: he leaked the data.

I sprang up from the chair, startling Mr. Smith. I didn't say a word to him as I dashed out into the cold midnight wind.

It was 12:00 AM as I drove back to the mansion, heart burning, chest threatening to burst.

Enraged, I went straight to his apartment and met him half-dozed in his chair.

"Ethan..." I called, my voice loud enough to wake him. He opened his eyes just as I landed a deafening blow to his lower jaw, sending him tumbling over with the chair.