Page 13 of Dial L for Lawyer
My laptop sits open between us like a digital barrier when Caleb walks in at exactly 9 AM, rolling up his sleeves as he settles into the chair across from me. I try not to notice the way his forearms flex when his hand finds the lid on his coffee without looking. Fail spectacularly.
"Let's start with the timeline," he says, reaching for a snickerdoodle. "Eighteen months of development, you said?"
"Yes." I pull up the project folders, grateful for something concrete to focus on. "Complete market research, focus groups, clinical trials. Everything was locked down."
He leans forward to see my screen better, close enough that I catch his cologne—something clean and expensive thatimmediately sends me back and makes my skin prickle like his hands are resting there.
Focus, Serena.
"When did Radiance launch exactly?"
"Monday morning, 10 AM. With our tagline, our color palette, even Maya's cellular visualization." My voice catches on her name. "It's identical, Caleb. Like they had our entire playbook."
"Because someone gave it to them." His fingers drum against the table in a rhythm that's oddly hypnotic. "Walk me through the access levels."
I turn my laptop toward him, our fingers brushing as he adjusts the angle. The contact sends electricity shooting up my arm, but he doesn't seem to notice. Or maybe he's better at pretending than I am.
"Core team is five people," I begin, forcing myself to focus. "Me as creative director, Maya Bolton my protégé, James Washington our senior designer, Lisa Park from accounts, and Brittany Adams, our coordinator."
"Digital access?"
"I had admin access to everything. Maya and James could view and edit creative files. Lisa handled budgets and media planning. Brittany mostly scheduling and coordination."
He takes notes in that precise handwriting of his and I find myself tracking the movement of his wrist, the way he spins the pen—precise, economical, confident. I force myself to look away. "Tell me about the Radiance recruitment attempts."
I quickly navigate to another folder. "Started eight months ago. Victoria Chase reached out personally through LinkedIn."
"Eight months." Something shifts in his voice. "Before the gala."
Heat creeps up my neck. We both know what happened after the gala. Or rather, what didn't happen.
"Yes," I manage. "Started casual—'love your work' type messages. Then lunch invitations. Then formal offers."
I show him the email progression, watching his eyes darken as he reads through them.
"Triple salary by the end," he notes. "That's aggressive, even for a rival company."
"I never responded to anything beyond polite refusals in the beginning. Everything else went straight to HR, then ignored." The words come out defensive. "I swear, Caleb, I never even considered?—"
"I know." The simple statement hits something deep in my chest. "But from Luminous's perspective, the fact you didn't delete them could look like consideration."
"Or leverage for negotiation," I admit.
"Exactly." He leans back, loosening his tie slightly. The gesture shouldn't affect me, but my body has other ideas. "Show me the access logs that started this mess."
This is the part I've been dreading. I pull up the IT report, the one that makes me look guilty as hell. "These are the files that were accessed in the weeks before the leak."
He studies the screen, his dark eyes scanning the data. "Your login credentials are all over this."
"I know how it looks."
"It looks like you downloaded the entire campaign and handed it over." His voice is matter-of-fact, not accusatory. "But you didn't."
"How can you be so sure?"
He glances up from the screen, and for a moment his professional mask slips. "Because I know you, Serena. You're not capable of betraying people you care about."
The words hang between us, loaded with meaning. I clear my throat, trying to ignore the way my heart is racing.
