Page 14 of Dial L for Lawyer
"Someone used my credentials," I say. "The question is who."
"And how they got them." He leans back in his chair, thinking. "Password sharing? Shoulder surfing? Or someone with admin access who could create duplicate logins?"
"Maya had my passwords," I admit. "I gave them to her last month when I was at that conference in Boston. But it wasn't her."
"Maya is your protégé?"
I nod. "She would never do this to me. We're close—I've been mentoring her for three years. She knows how much this campaign means to me, to the whole team." I shake my head firmly. "Maya's ambitious, but she's not the type to steal. She's worked too hard. And she loves Luminous."
Caleb watches me carefully. "Who else had your passwords?"
"No one. Just Maya, and only because I trusted her completely." The words feel hollow even as I say them. "She's like a little sister to me."
"People we trust can surprise us," he says gently.
"It wasn't her, Caleb."
He studies me for a beat longer, then nods. "Let's get her access logs anyway. Trust but verify. It'll help us rule her out and narrow the field."
He's right, of course. The fact that I want to argue is probably proof of my own guilt—not the criminal kind, but the other kind. The kind that comes with suspecting people you care about.
"So, how do we actually prove any of this?" I ask, trying to focus. "If it looks like I did it, if it actually was my password?—"
"We start with the digital forensics. You know Logan. He specializes in this—he can analyze the server data and cross-reference it with building entry logs. If your credentials were used when you weren't in the building, we'll have our smoking gun."
He glances up at me. "If they press formal charges, I'll need to subpoena everything officially. But right now, we're just gathering ammunition for Friday’s meeting."
He smiles, calm and reassuring. "I'll have Logan run analysis tonight. Meanwhile, you need to prep for the interview. They'll try to rattle you. Don't let them see weakness."
"Is that legal jargon?"
"It's basic cross-examination tactics. Answer only what's asked, nothing more. No explanations. No editorializing." He points at me with his pen. "And if you get flustered, just look at me and I'll handle it."
"Is that how you win all your cases?"
He shrugs. "Most people crack under pressure. If you don't, they won't know what to do with you."
I sip my coffee, needing the caffeine. "I need to know where this is heading. Is the company really expecting me to just roll over?"
"That's exactly what they expect," Caleb says. "It's easier for them if you leave quietly with an NDA than if you fight and expose their security failures."
"If I take a deal, I'll never work in marketing again."
"Which is why we won't let that happen." His confidence is infectious. "We poke holes in their case, gain leverage, then either negotiate your return with a full apology or you walk away cleared with a payout that reflects your actual value."
He smiles, sly and self-assured. "This is chess, Serena, not checkers."
"But what if we're playing snakes and ladders?" I ask, voicing my worst fear. "What if Friday goes badly and they press charges?"
"Then we go to court and we win." His voice is firm. "Discovery, depositions, the full process. Could take months, maybe a year."
"And the costs?—"
"Is something we can worry about later." He glances at his watch and starts gathering his papers. "I need to wrap this up. I have a call with the West Coast in ten minutes."
The abrupt shift catches me off guard. One moment we're deep in strategy, the next he's dismissing me like any other client.
"Wait," I say, suddenly feeling desperate. "Stop putting off talking to me about your fee. What do I owe you for today? And yesterday for that matter. What's your hourly rate?"
