Read Chapter 13: The Defense

The boardroom at AlgoSens had never felt smaller. Camille stood at the head of the long oak table, facing four stone-faced investors and Jacques, who sat at the far end like a judge awaiting a verdict. The Paris skyline glowed grey through the floor-to-ceiling windows, indifferent to the drama unfolding inside.

“I’m asking you to reconsider,” Camille said, her voice steadier than she felt. “Antoine did not sabotage this company.”

Jacques folded his hands. “The evidence says otherwise. The dataset was swapped using his credentials. The board has made its decision.”

“The board has made a decision based on incomplete information.” Camille reached into her folder and pulled out the first document—a printout of the fake job posting for a Senior AI Engineer, dated three weeks before Antoine’s hiring. “Someone created this position. It was never posted publicly. It was never approved by HR. But it exists in the system, and it was used to bring in a temp worker named Hugo.”

She slid the paper across the table. “Hugo had access to the server logs. He cleaned out files around the suspicious job. He was seen going through the data pipeline the day before the demo.”

Élise Moreau, the board’s quietest member, picked up the printout and examined it. “Who hired this Hugo?”

“That’s the question, isn’t it?” Camille said. “HR has no record of him. No contract. No badge log. He simply appeared in the system one day, and no one questioned him because he looked like he belonged. That’s not Antoine’s method. That’s someone with deep access and a plan.”

Jacques leaned back. “And you know this how?”

Camille hesitated. The next part was riskier, but there was no turning back now. “I confronted Hugo myself. He claimed he was hired through normal channels, but he couldn’t produce a single document. Antoine recognized him from a previous company—one that collapsed under suspicious circumstances. Hugo was there too.”

“That’s circumstantial,” Jacques said.

“It’s a pattern,” Camille countered. “The same pattern that ruined Antoine’s last company. He was the one who exposed the spy, but the board blamed him anyway because it was easier than admitting they’d been deceived. You’re doing the same thing right now.”

The room went quiet. Camille could feel Antoine’s gaze on her from the corner, where he’d been instructed to wait like a defendant. She hadn’t told him she was going to bring up his past. She’d decided on the way over that the truth would be her only weapon.

Jacques’s jaw tightened. “We’re not here to relitigate Antoine’s history. We’re here to protect the company’s future.”

“Then keep the man who’s been building that future,” Camille said. “The health ministry has requested a deeper technical evaluation next month. Antoine built the beta that passed their first review. Firing him now would sink that evaluation and, with it, the entire government contract. You want to protect the company? Then don’t cut off its right hand because you’re afraid of a ghost.”

Élise set down the paper. “Camille, you’re asking us to ignore evidence that points directly at a senior employee.”

“No, I’m asking you to look at who benefits from Antoine’s removal. Who benefits from chaos? From stalled evaluations and a devalued company? That’s not Antoine. That’s whoever is trying to tear us apart from the inside.” She paused, letting the words land. “Or from the outside.”

The silence stretched. Camille could see the doubt flickering in Élise’s eyes, the way Jacques’s fingers drummed against the table. For a moment, she thought she might actually win.

Then Jacques spoke. “The board will table this discussion. We’ll reconvene in forty-eight hours. In the meantime, Antoine remains on administrative leave.”

Camille wanted to argue, but she knew better than to push further in front of the others. She nodded once, gathered her folder, and left the room with as much dignity as she could muster.

Antoine met her in the hallway. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Yes, I did.” She kept walking, heading toward the stairwell. “If they fire you, they’ll come for me next. We both know that.”

He fell into step beside her. “I meant what you said about my last company. I never told you all of it.”

“You told me enough.” She pushed open the stairwell door and started down. “You exposed a spy. They blamed you anyway. Sound familiar?”

“It wasn’t just that.” His voice was quieter now, almost reluctant. “The spy was someone I trusted. Someone I’d brought into the company myself. I vouched for him. When he was caught, everyone assumed I was either complicit or incompetent. The truth was worse—I was blind.”

Camille stopped on the landing and turned to face him. “You can’t carry that forever.”

“I’ve been trying not to.” He met her eyes. “But every time I trust someone new, I wonder if I’m making the same mistake. That’s why I’ve been so careful around you.”

The confession hung between them. Camille felt the weight of it—the acknowledgment that they’d been circling each other for weeks, each waiting for the other to prove they were safe. She understood that fear better than she wanted to admit.

“I know what it’s like,” she said slowly. “To be afraid that everyone will find out you’re not as capable as they think.”

Antoine tilted his head. “You’re the most capable person I know.”

“That’s the thing about impostor syndrome.” She almost smiled. “It doesn’t care about evidence. It just whispers louder than the truth.”

He was quiet for a moment. Then he said, “For what it’s worth, I don’t think you’re a fraud. I think you’re the only reason this company is still standing.”

Camille felt something shift in her chest—a small release of tension she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. She nodded, not trusting her voice, and started down the stairs again.

Back at her apartment that night, they sat side by side on her worn leather couch, Antoine’s laptop open on the coffee table. The encrypted file from Maxime glowed on the screen, still refusing to yield.

“We’ve tried everything,” Antoine said. “Every key variation, every algorithm. It’s like he built it to be opened only under specific conditions.”

Camille stared at the file. “What if it’s not a technical condition? What if it’s emotional?”

“What do you mean?”

“Maxime was a romantic. He believed in gestures.” She reached for her laptop and typed her name again, but this time she added something: the date of the last day she’d seen him. The day he’d vanished.

The file shuddered. A fragment of text emerged from the encrypted morass, and then a map—not a full map, but a single pulsing blue dot overlaid on a street grid.

“That’s the 18th,” Camille said, leaning closer. “The warehouse district near the old train tracks.”

Antoine’s fingers hovered over the keyboard. “There’s more data coming through, but it’s partial. He wanted us to find this.”

Camille felt a chill run up her spine. Maxime had known they would need this. He had hidden it in plain sight, waiting for the moment when they had nowhere else to turn.

“We need to go there,” she said. “Tonight.”

Antoine looked at her. “And what if it’s a trap?”

“Then at least we’ll know.” She met his gaze. “We can’t keep waiting for the next anonymous message or the next sabotage. We need answers.”

He didn’t argue. Instead, he closed his laptop and stood. “Let’s go.”

Camille grabbed her coat from the hook by the door. As she did, her hand brushed against the red scarf that still hung there—the same scarf that had reappeared in her office days ago, in Perrot’s office before that. She hesitated, then took it with her.

It felt like a promise she couldn’t explain. Or a warning she couldn’t ignore.