Page 76 of How to Play the Player

Bethany’s eyes light up with unmistakable interest at the mention of the fact I have a client. “Oh, absolutely. Take your time.”

“I’ll just step outside for a moment,” I say, already moving toward the door. “Help yourself to water if you’d like. Bottles are in the fridge, behind my desk. I’ll be quick.”

The moment I close the door behind me, I’m filled with conflicting emotions—intense anxiety that our plan might fail mixed with a fierce hope that we’ll finally expose her.

I make it just outside to the front of the building when I see Nathan is already there, tablet in hand, his expression intense with focus.

“Has she taken the bait yet?” I whisper, moving to his side to look at the tablet’s screen.

Nathan shakes his head slightly. “Not yet.”

On the screen, I can see the live feed from the hidden camera. Bethany remains seated, scrolling through her phone with an air of practiced nonchalance. She doesn’t make a move toward the laptop.

“What if she doesn’t go for it? Could we have the wrong person?” I ask, anxiety creeping into my voice as Bethany continues to just sit there.

“She will,” Nathan assures me quietly. “If she’s the leak, there’s no way she’d let an opportunity like this pass by. Just wait.”

We watch together; I wait with bated breath as the seconds tick by. Bethany continues scrolling through her phone, occasionally glancing up at the door but otherwise staying perfectly still.

“C’mon,” I murmur under my breath, willing her to make her move. The longer I stand outside, the more suspicious it might seem.

Another thirty seconds pass with excruciating slowness. Then, finally, Bethany looks toward the door again, listening intently. Seemingly satisfied I’m still not back yet, she stands from her seat and approaches my desk with deliberate casualness.

I gasp as she leans over my laptop, her movements precise and practiced. She pulls something from her purse—a small USB device—and without hesitation plugs it into the side port.

“She’s doing it,” I whisper. “That bitch.”

We watch on the tablet as her fingers move swiftly across my keyboard, her expression focused and intent. After what seems like an eternity but is probably less than a minute, she begins the process of removing the USB.

“We’ve got what we need. Let’s go in.”

We move quickly down the hall and push the door open. Bethany jumps, startled by our sudden entrance and quickly shoves the USB into her pocket. Her expression shifts from surprise to carefully composed innocence in an instant.

“Oh! That was quick,” she says, sliding back into her chair with practiced ease. “Everything okay with your client? Nathan? Wow! It’s so good to see you.”

“Bethany, what are you doing to my laptop?” I ask directly, not bothering with pretense anymore.

She blinks with a confused expression. “What? Nothing. I was just checking my emails on my phone.”

While I keep my focus on Bethany, Nathan moves to my computer. From the corner of my eye, I see him checking the screen. After a moment, he looks up at me and gives a deliberate nod, confirming what we already knew.

“Really? That’s the story you’re sticking with?” I step closer, emboldened by knowing what I saw on the tablet. “Don’t pretend. I just watched you install spyware on my laptop—and I have it all on camera.” I point to the security camera hidden in the corner.

Bethany must see where I’m pointing because then color starts to slowly drain from her face. Her professional demeanor cracks momentarily.

“The spyware you just installed is identical to the one that was on Quinn’s old laptop,” Nathan interjects.

Bethany’s shoulders suddenly straighten, a cold smirk replacing her initial panic. “And if I did? What are you going to do about it? Ruin my reputation the way yours was? What exactly do you think you’re going to prove?”

“That you’ve been monitoring me,” I say, pulse quickening as I press forward. “That you’ve been stealing information, invading my privacy—You violated my trust.”

Her laugh is sharp, bitter. “Trust? You want to talk about trust? Sweet pea, when are you going to stop being so naive?”

I pause in disbelief. “Why? Why would you do this to me?”

Something in Bethany’s expression shifts, revealing a sense of resentment that’s been no doubt simmering beneath the surface. “Why? You really have to ask me why?” Her voice rises with each word, that careful control beginning to slip.

“We were once partners, friends. We built that business together,” I say. “Did that mean nothing to you?”

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