Max swallowed hard but shook his head, keeping his focus on the screen. “No, ma’am. Sometimes, my fingers shake when I type, especially when I'm working under pressure.”
"Are you sure?" Anabel asked with a smile while looking at him. Then she noticed another thing. Max was sweating. He was dripping from his forehead, glistening under the office lights.
The air conditioning was running at full blast, keeping the room comfortably cool, yet Max was sweating like a man standing under the scorching sun.
That was when she knew that something was not right. He was definitely involved. He wasn't comfortable at all. It was as if he was fighting something stronger than him within.
Max continued to scroll down the intricate web of codes. His breathing changed as he reached the final section—the part containing the bank details. His movements slowed before he stopped. He had reached the most dangerous point. One more scroll, and the account name and number will show.
Anabel narrowed her eyes. “Keep scrolling,” she ordered. Max hesitated, and she warned him. “Stop wasting my time, Max. You don’t need to hide anything anymore. From your reaction alone, I already know you had a hand in this.”
Desmond crossed his arms, watching Max closely. He didn’t say a word, but his presence was suffocating, a silent pressure forcing Max deeper into his own guilt.
Max’s fingers clenched on the mouse. He wanted to run. He wished he could. His instincts screamed at him to bolt and flee from the building and never look back. But he knew that if he made a single move toward the door, security would have him on the ground in seconds.
There was no escape. He had no other choice than to scroll down. So he scrolled, ready to face any consequences.
And there it was. The account name. Anabel’s breath hitched, her pulse hammering as her eyes locked onto the screen.
She recognized the name. Sylvester George. Sylvester’s full name.
The man she thought she could trust. The man she had considered giving her heart to again. The room was silent. Anabel couldn’t believe it.
The weight of betrayal hung in the air like a suffocating fog, thick with disappointment, anger, and disbelief.
Sylvester had robbed her. He had played her for a fool. But now that she has found out, she was going to make sure he paid for it.
Anabel’s eyes remained locked on the screen. The name Sylvester George was glaring back at her like a cruel revelation. Max sat frozen in his chair with his shallow breath. Max didn’t dare move. He was caught, and there was no escaping it.
Anabel’s gaze bore into him. "I can’t believe you plotted against me, Max. You connived with Sylvester and stole my money."
Max swallowed hard, and his words began to fumble as he tried to explain himself. "No, Miss Orton, I...I didn’t mean to," he stammered. "I was forced. He threatened to take the job from me. He said if I didn’t do what he demanded, I would lose my position. I was scared." He explained, but Anabel’s expression didn’t change. There was no sympathy in her eyes. No understanding. She was so disappointed and angry.
"You should have told me. Sylvester has no power to fire anyone. If you had come forward, if you had told me, you would have retained your job. But instead, you stood by him. And now? You will pay dearly for it."
"No, ma'am." He went down on his knees and began to beg her. "Please, don't fire me." Forgive me. I know I did a terrible thing. I did it out of pressure. Please have mercy on me."
Desmond, who had remained quiet throughout the drama, leaned back slightly, watching the scene keep unfolding with a knowing expression.
Anabel turned to Desmond, "Thank you, Desmond. If not for you, I wouldn’t have caught them." She glanced back at the screen, then exhaled sharply. "He would have wiped everything. There wouldn’t have been a single trace left."
"I told you," he smiled. "You just had to look and analyze. Right now, you need to block all his bank accounts."