Fake Data, Locked Archive And My Counterattack

Summary

I was once Wall Street’s youngest prodigy, a legendary risk analyst. Now, I was trapped in an office drama as cannon fodder. Day one, I was handed a suicide mission: the Easton Properties risk assessment was due next week with no raw data. The department waited for me to burn.

Bianca, the office sweetheart, pretended to help. She stayed until ten each night, eyes brimming with fake concern. Everyone called her an angel. She slid a folder across my desk. "Private contact files. Patch your report, but stay quiet."