“There’s something in your drink—the black girl whispered to the billionaire. The man’s hair stood on end when he found out what was there

Cyrus gently lifted the vase. Inside, nestled beneath decorative stones, was a tiny black dot the size of a watch battery. A recording device.

His blood ran cold. Margo said nothing. Just crossed herself quietly.

He held the device between two fingers. How the hell did I miss this? Because you trusted her, Maya said. If you’ve ever been hurt because you trusted the wrong person, give Maya a like for her incredible wisdom.

And don’t forget to comment where you’re watching this video from. Who knows? Someone nearby might be watching this story right along with you. Cyrus stared at the object.

Trust. That word hit differently now. He turned to Maya.

Do you think there are more? I’d bet on it, she replied. By nightfall, they’d found three. One behind the painting in his study.

One inside the decorative clock in the living room. And one inside his nightstand drawer. All places Vanessa had touched in the last month.

Cyrus sat back on the edge of his bed. His fingers steepled under his chin. She knew when I’d be gone.

She always showed up with coffee right when I was stressed. She was always offering to help organize my files. She’s good, Margo said softly.

Too good, Maya added. Cyrus finally spoke. We need proof.

Hard proof. Enough to hold up in court if needed. Maya’s eyes lit up.

Then we don’t stop them. We let them keep going, Cyrus blinked. What? We let them think they’re ahead.

We give them something to take, she said. A slow plan forming behind her gaze. Something we control.

Something traceable. Margo smiled faintly. Like bait, Cyrus nodded slowly.

We give them exactly what they want. He looked at Maya. This quiet girl with haunted eyes who had just saved him from a betrayal he hadn’t seen coming.

And when they reach for it, he said, voice steady. We’ll be waiting. The next morning, everything looked normal.

Too normal. Vanessa hummed along to a jazz playlist as she sliced grapefruit in the kitchen, wearing a soft cream robe and her signature smile, the one that made strangers trust her instantly. Cyrus walked in and watched her from the doorway, his expression unreadable.

She turned and greeted him with a kiss on the cheek. You were up early, she said, brushing a curl behind her ear. Couldn’t sleep again? Something like that, he replied.

Just had some things on my mind. She laughed gently. You always do.

He poured himself a coffee, this time from the pot he made himself. As he stirred, he noticed Maya sitting on the breakfast nook bench, head down, pretending to scroll through cartoons on her tablet. In reality, she was monitoring three signal interceptors wired into the house’s electrical system overnight.

Vanessa didn’t suspect a thing. Cyrus sat across from Maya, watching Vanessa move through the kitchen like nothing in the world could crack her calm. He wondered, not for the first time, how much of what she’d ever said to him had been real.

She’s here, Maya whispered through the tablet’s Bluetooth mic, barely moving her lips. And so is the signal. Two of them, one’s pulsing, the other’s active.

They’re listening now. Cyrus nodded slightly, almost imperceptibly. Good to know, he said aloud, looking toward Vanessa.

Later that afternoon, he called Miles Wren to his office. Miles was his CFO, co-founder, and friend of 20 years. They’d built Bennett SecureTech together from nothing.

If Cyrus had a brother, it would have been Miles. And that’s what made what Maya had told him feel like poison in his chest. He’s been here when you weren’t, she’d said.

He and Vanessa, whispering, looking through your desk. Last week, I heard him say, it has to match the launch date. Cyrus didn’t want to believe it.

But after last night’s discoveries, after uncovering three active listening devices, belief had little to do with it. Now he needed truth. Miles entered with his usual swagger, black cashmere coat over a tailored gray suit, grinning like they hadn’t spoken in weeks.

You rang, partner? Have a seat, Cyrus said calmly, gesturing toward the leather chair opposite his desk. Miles dropped into it and crossed one ankle over his knee. What’s the urgency? You sound tense.

Just trying to get my ducks in a row, Cyrus said. You know the prototype we’re launching next week, the adaptive encryption layer? Miles nodded slowly. Of course.

It’s the big one. I’m making some last minute changes to the architecture, Cyrus lied smoothly. Too many eyes on the current version.

I’m setting up a decoy framework. Looks identical, but the data’s non-functional. Miles arched an eyebrow.

You think someone’s leaking information? Cyrus studied him. I think it’s always better to be careful. Miles’s smile faltered just slightly.

Well, let me know if you need me to do anything differently. I will, Cyrus said. The moment Miles left, Cyrus locked the office door and turned to Maya, who had been watching everything on the discrete surveillance feed from the guest hallway closet.

She looked up from her screen. He smiled too much. Cyrus sighed.

He always does. But this time it felt… Off. Maya tapped her screen.

He has a burner phone. I picked up a signal. It connected to the same frequency that Vasebug used.

Cyrus felt his jaw tighten. You’re sure? Maya looked at him squarely. I don’t guess.

They spent the next two days building the trap. Cyrus, with Maya and Margo’s help, created a mirror folder of fake prototype files. The directory looked identical to the real one, even down to the metadata.

The files were convincing complex enough to pass a basic audit, but embedded with a tracer code that would silently notify them the moment someone attempted to access or transfer it. Margo, meanwhile, set up time-stamped surveillance. Voice-activated motion sensors near the home office and living room, plus a hidden lens inside the crystal vase.

The irony wasn’t lost on any of them turning Vanessa’s own tricks against her. That night, Maya sat quietly in her room, rechecking signals for the fifth time. Cyrus stepped in, knocking softly on her half-open door.

You still up? he asked. Maya nodded. Couldn’t sleep.

He walked in and sat at the edge of her bed. You shouldn’t have to carry this much, he said. You’re nine.

I was seven when I started noticing people lie, she said plainly. It’s not that heavy anymore. Cyrus looked at her for a long moment…