Olive Evans Leaks Novels & Stories

Before I can answer, the elevator to the penthouse pings open behind us. Kevin rushes out, drenched, panting, tie crooked, phone in hand. “Sir—Hailey—don’t get mad but—there’s been another leak.” Hailey gasps. “What?” Kevin swallows hard. “It’s… bigger this time.” Ethan’s voice is pure ice. “How big.” Kevin lifts the phone, screen glowing blue with horror. “Someone leaked a video,” he says. “From inside the company.” Hailey’s face pales.

Elara: You should explain the leaks first. The reply came instantly. Adrian: I didn’t do this. She believed him. That was the problem. Across the city, Adrian Hale stood in his office, jacket discarded, tie loosened, hands braced against the glass wall overlooking Valemont. His world was collapsing in bullet points and headlines, and the only thing that hurt more than the damage was knowing Elara might think he’d caused it. The leaks were real. Brutal. Precise. Too precise. “Find the source,” he snapped into the phone. “Internal and external. I don’t care how far back you have to dig.”

"What the hell were you thinking? You looked guilty as sin up there, practically admitting everything without actually saying it." "What was I supposed to do?" Emma hissed. "They have my financial records, Evan. They have documentation of every transfer, every withdrawal, every transaction. Someone leaked everything to that reporter and now everyone thinks I know you are alive." "Because you did know!" Evan shouted, his control slipping completely. "You've known from the beginning, you helped plan the whole thing and now you're falling apart the moment anyone asks a difficult question." "Don't you dare blame this on me," Emma shot back.

I cross the floor in long strides, reality overriding the heavy throb of lust in my veins. "What happened?" I ask, coming to a stop directly behind Oliver. I stand close enough that the heat of my chest brushes the back of his shoulder. Oliver inhales sharply, his spine locking rigid at the contact. He doesn't step away. He leans back a fraction of an inch, letting his weight settle against me for a microsecond before he catches himself and jerks away. "The leak," Chana says, her fingers flying over the keys. "The time-delay triggered fifteen minutes ago. Packets were delivered to the New York Times, Washington Post, Reuters, and two global broadcast hubs."

I exhaled and typed out a quick message. Olivia. I have intel. Meet me in one hour. I hit send and prayed I wasn’t making the biggest mistake of my life. --- The underground parking garage was nearly empty when Olivia stepped out of her car, looking every bit the ruthless strategist Damian had trained her to be. Her sharp brown eyes scanned me before she spoke. "This better be good," she said. I handed her a USB drive. "It’s Evan’s next move. If we don’t stop it, Damian’s empire will crash tomorrow."

I dropped a single folder in the center of the polished mahogany and let it slide until it stopped in front of the chairman. “Open it,” I said. He did. Inside were printouts (bank transfers, shell-company ledgers, emails between Evelyn and a tabloid editor). Amounts that could buy small countries. Dates that lined up perfectly with every leak about Celeste’s condition. The room went very, very quiet. I leaned forward, palms flat on the table.

***OLIVIA*** “What? Are you surprised?” I asked Eve whom I was directly facing and she just looked at me in disbelief. “Whatever do you mean?” She asked, lady Lena just looked at us both confused and excited—confused about what was going on and excited about her son. I yanked the case from Toria and placed it on the table in the room, then I opened it and brought out what we’d removed—the mini drip. Eves eyes widened in shock as she saw it and I could see her begin to fidget.

“And it has my name.” He stepped to the window, staring out at the skyline that now felt like a city of knives. “They weren’t supposed to go public yet,” he said through gritted teeth. “She jumped the timeline.” “Olivia?” He nodded once. “She leaked it early. To blindside us.” The apartment filled with the sound of phones buzzing, emails pinging, and chaos screaming in through every screen. Social media had gone wild. Anonymous comments. Blogs. Speculations. Some called me his mistress.

“Evan, are you even listening to me?” Rosie Nelson grabbed my arm tightly when she saw me standing there in a daze. The suffocating sensation of my last moments still lingered in my mind, and the pain made me come back to my senses. I stared blankly at the familiar scene of the press conference, unable to process what was happening. Rosie’s anxious face filled my field of vision. “Evan, everyone’s accusing us of plagiarism after the data leak. You can fix this, right?

A pot of strong English breakfast tea sat untouched between them. “Tell me,” she said. Her voice held no hysterics, no social flutter. It was the calm, focused tone of a general receiving a battlefield report. William spoke in clipped, precise sentences. The timeline of the leaks. The specific details used. The dinner with the Eight. The failed legal avenues. Thorne’s history, his modus operandi, his current wounded, vengeful state. Evelyn listened, her sharp eyes missing nothing. She asked only a few questions.