Page 19 of Fake Lemons Love and Luxury

SEAN

“ S tart from the top,” I say, crossing the room in two strides and settling into my seat at Langston Protection Services.

Marcus, Cal and Dani are already gathered.

I’m a few minutes late because of the chaos of the leaked product photos and campaign strategy of Lemon LLC’s new products.

The information and pictures got leaked the previous day and Wren is livid about it.

I kept my suspicions to myself while my team worked to figure out where the leak came from.

Cal taps a key, and on the center monitor, a series of flagged access logs pop up.

“Following our suspicions, we pulled every document, calendar event, and internal email Wren’s assistant, Lily, has touched in the last ninety days.

She accessed over two dozen items outside her normal scope of duties, many of them during hours she wasn’t scheduled. ”

Dani steps forward next, head of investigations and sharper than anyone I’ve ever worked with.

She flips through a printed report. “These aren’t accidental clicks.

She opened and downloaded confidential strategy memos—some marked executive access only.

And the timing lines up with every leak that’s gone public. ”

She taps a page. “See this? The marketing deck for Wren’s new campaign? Leaked yesterday after Lily downloaded it. She accessed it at 11:03 p.m., off-site. And the IP? Tied to a Wi-Fi network registered to a short-term rental under a fake name.”

“Whoever owns the burner email account receiving the leaks used that same IP,” Cal adds. “We cross-referenced metadata from the attachments. The documents Lily sent came from Wren’s files with no formatting changes, no stripped metadata. It’s a direct transfer.”

Then Marcus slides a flash drive onto the desk.

“This is the kicker. Lily joined a private Slack-style group chat. Username: LemonInsider. She didn't even try to be coy,” he clicks his tongue. “Anyway, we breached it two days ago. Messages include screenshots of Wren’s private calendar, phone pics taken inside Lemon offices. She wasn’t working alone.

Marlowe Skye is in there too, under the very vague name of StarPower. ”

I scroll through the timestamped exchanges, media contacts, even directives. I press a finger to my temple.

Leak this Tuesday at 8 a.m. Eastern. Make sure it gets to CelebMag first. Don’t forget to crop out the timestamp.

“This is deliberate sabotage,” I say. “Coordinated.”

“And here,” Cal adds, pulling up a final image. “Security cam footage from a Midtown café last week. Lily and Camille Ross.”

Everything falls into place like a lock clicking shut.

I nod once. “I’ll handle the delivery.”

Twenty minutes later, I’m pulling into the Lemon LLC lot. The sun’s just starting to dip, casting long shadows across the building’s modern glass facade. I kill the engine and sit with it a beat longer than necessary.

This isn’t just another operation. This one’s personal.

I take the elevator to the top floor. Talia lets me into Wren’s office with a quick nod. Wren’s sitting on the couch, arms crossed over her chest. Both of them watch me with that mix of tension and hope I’ve come to expect in crisis situations.

“What is it?” she asks.

“I’ve been tracking the leaks,” I begin, opening my laptop.

“Paparazzi showing up at the exact locations Wren’s supposed to be.

Not just any location, specific ones which someone with access to her private calendar would know.

Leaked details from internal emails. Slips from meetings no one outside the core team should’ve heard. ”

Talia leans forward. “You think it’s a mole?”

“I know it is,” I say. “And I know who it is.”

I set the folder and flash drive on the table. “It’s Lily.”

Wren tilts her head to a side, her eyebrows squishing together,

“Lily?” she says, opening the folder like it might bite. “That’s… impossible.”

I get it. I’ve watched Lily hover like a shadow at Wren’s side since the day I walked into this job. Scheduling, email filters, even picking up Eric from school sometimes. She’s not just an assistant, she’s woven into the fabric of Wren’s life.

“I wish I was wrong,” I tell her, softer now. “But the trail is clean. And it’s hers.”

I walk them through it. I show the access logs. The calendar downloads. The IP data that ties Lily’s login credentials to a burner email account. Every step is documented, timestamped, and undeniable.

Then I click into the group chat.

“‘LemonInsider’ is Lily,” I explain. “And ‘StarPower’ is Marlowe Skye.”

Talia arches a brow. “You’re sure?”

I nod and scroll to another screen. “Because ‘StarPower’ chats with Camille Ross in a separate thread. And here’s Marlowe coordinating with gossip blogs. Specific timing. Specific drops.”

I pull up a thread of messages that includes screenshots of Wren’s calendar. Discussions about when to release damaging information about Wren. Texts to blog editors with instructions to “stir the pot.”

And the kill shot. A photo, grainy but clear, from a restaurant security cam of Lily and Camille, seated across from each other. Several weeks ago.

Talia leans in, flipping through the printouts with a quiet string of profanity under her breath. Wren doesn’t speak. Her expression’s frozen like she’s holding herself together by a thread.

“It's not just sloppy behavior,” I tell them. “This is intentional. Deliberate. She’s been feeding information to Marlowe and Camille for weeks, months maybe. The campaign leak came from her. Every leak came from her.”

“I trusted her.”

I stay still, letting the moment breathe.

“She’s been with me since Lemon launched,” she goes on, like she’s remembering things in real time. “When Eric had a fever last year, she brought soup and stayed over. And we talked throughout the night. She’s held my hand before pitch meetings when I thought I’d throw up.”

Her voice catches. “How could she do this?”

Something sharp and protective twists in my chest. My job has led me to see betrayal a hundred ways before. From corporate espionage to political leaks and even family implosions. But this? This is different. Personal. And Wren deserves better.

“People’s motives get messy,” I say. “Money. Recognition. Envy. Sometimes the ones closest to us are the ones with the deepest grudges.”

Talia’s quiet until now, absorbing everything like a strategist banking pieces on a chessboard. She looks up, her eyes sharper than before.

“We can flip this,” she says. “This is the moment we’ve been waiting for. We can make the leak work for us.”

Wren blinks. “How?”

“We release the screenshots. The chat. The picture of Marlowe and Camille together. We don’t say a word. Just drop it into the right hands. People don’t like manufactured drama. If they see Marlowe’s been pulling the strings the whole time, the story turns.”

“Smart,” I say. “And we don’t come at them head-on. We let the public connect the dots.”

“What about Lily?” Wren asks.

Then the door opens.

Lily walks in with a bright smile holding a file and packet of coffee.

“I brought coffee! Oh and Wren, I got your favourite oat milk latte from?—”

Her brows furrow at the silence.

“Is everything alright? I just wanted to drop the files and the coff?—

“So, it was you.”

“What?”

“The calendar. The documents. All those leaks. They came from you!”

Lily pales. “Wren, what are you talking about? I don’t?—”

“Don’t lie to me,” Wren snaps, rising to her feet. “Don’t you dare. You looked me in the eye every day while you were selling pieces of my life to people who wanted to destroy me.”

“I—I didn’t sell anything! You’re wrong, I swear?—”

“We have chat logs,” I cut in. “Footage of you meeting Camille Ross. Access logs from off-site Wi-Fi linked to a burner. You sent confidential files of Wren’s calendar, strategy decks, emails. You leaked the new product photos and campaign strategy. We have the metadata. It’s irrefutable.”

Lily looks between us. Her face collapses into something wounded and defensive all at once. “You don’t understand. I was doing everything. Running her whole life. I just wanted… I wanted to prove that I could be more. I just wanted a chance?—”

Talia crosses her arms. “So you decided to burn it all down?”

Silence.

Wren’s voice is cold. “You’re done here.”

“But Wren?—”

“I trusted you with my son.” Her tone is cutting. “Leave your badge and your laptop with security. You're no longer employed here.”

Talia opens the door.

Lily doesn’t say anything else and backs away.

The silence afterward is thick. Wren sits slow, like her body remembers its weight all at once. I sit across from her, not touching, not speaking.

I watch her hold herself together, knowing how much strength that takes.