The symbol on the keychain was like a stone thrown into still waters. James Morgan was waiting, waiting for ripples that might never appear.

Every day at work, he maintained absolute vigilance, observing Captain Wilson, watching the monitoring room, examining every corner of the property management company that might hide secrets.


Days passed quietly beneath a veneer of calm, and the internal investigation storm within the group seemed to have slightly subsided, but that intangible pressure still permeated the air.

Victor Shaw made fewer appearances, but each time he showed up, that cold aura of authority grew increasingly heavy.

That evening, before the shift change, James Morgan was called to Captain Wilson's small office. The office was modest, with an old desk, a few chairs, and a schedule board and several yellowing group photos hanging on the wall.


Captain Wilson closed the door and pointed to a chair, "Sit."

James sat down as instructed, his vigilance raised to the highest level.


Captain Wilson didn't look at him, but methodically brewed himself a cup of strong tea, the rising steam obscuring the expression on his face.

After quite a while, he finally spoke, his voice deeper than usual: "James, you've been here for some time now, how do you feel?"

"It's going well, Captain Wilson, my colleagues have been very helpful, and I've adapted to the work," James Morgan answered conventionally.

"Hmm." Captain Wilson blew on the foam floating on his tea, as if asking casually, "I heard you've had a rough time outside before?"

James's heart sank suddenly. Was he probing into his background? He lowered his eyelids, his voice carrying a perfectly measured hint of obscurity: "Yes, I took some detours, now I just want to find a stable job and live a good life."

"Stable..." Captain Wilson repeated these words, smiling ambiguously, the smile quickly disappearing behind the rising steam. "In these times, wanting stability isn't easy."

He put down his teacup, his gaze finally landing on James, that gaze no longer carried the slight murkiness of an old hand, but rather had a kind of settled sharpness. "Especially in a place like this, there are many eyes, many ears. Sometimes, what you see, what you hear, isn't necessarily true. Sometimes, not seeing, not hearing, isn't necessarily a good thing either."

James Morgan held his breath, not responding. He knew the crucial point was coming.

Captain Wilson stood up, walked to the wall, and seemingly casually ran his finger across the oldest group photo. The picture showed the Morgan Enterprise Security Department from many years ago, with a much younger Captain Wilson standing at the edge, while at the center was the spirited Richard Morgan, along with a young James Morgan and Victor Shaw standing beside him, both with bright smiles.

His finger paused very briefly on young James Morgan's face, so quickly that one might think it was just an illusion.

"The old boss..." Captain Wilson said with his back to James, his voice somewhat distant, "Some rules were established by the old boss, and they worked quite well. It's a pity that people nowadays don't follow the old rules anymore."

He turned around, his face returning to its usual somewhat rugged expression, as if everything just now had been James Morgan's imagination. "Alright, we're done here, you can go home. Things aren't very peaceful out there lately, so head straight home after work, don't wander around."

"Understood, Captain Wilson." James Morgan stood up, respectfully nodded, and left the office.

The door closed behind him as James walked down the empty corridor, yet he felt that gaze seemingly following him all the way.

Captain Wilson's words were filled with hidden meanings. "Eyes and ears everywhere" was a warning about his dangerous situation. "The old rules," "the old boss"... was he hinting that his identity had been discovered? Was that gesture across the photo a confirmation or a warning?

He couldn't be entirely certain of Captain Wilson's position, but one thing was clear: this man was far from ordinary. He was very likely "the Shadow," or at least a link in "the Shadow's" network. By communicating this way, he both acknowledged receiving James's coded message and issued another ambiguous warning.

Back at his rented apartment, James Morgan's mood hadn't lightened; instead, it had grown heavier. Captain Wilson's appearance meant that he wasn't fighting alone, but it also indicated that the underwater struggle had already reached a fever pitch, so much so that even someone as deeply embedded as Captain Wilson had to contact him in such a cryptic manner.

He needed more direct evidence, and more importantly, he needed to find the key figure conducting the internal audit.

A few nights later, James Morgan was working the night shift. At two in the morning, he made his routine inspection of the equipment level connecting the main building and the podium. This area was filled with various pipes and motors, constantly rumbling with noise, and rarely visited.

Just as he was about to leave, he faintly heard an extremely weak, intermittent sobbing sound coming from a corner where miscellaneous items were stored.

He stopped in his tracks, gripped his baton tightly, and approached silently.

In the corner, a middle-aged woman in a cleaning uniform was curled up, her shoulders shaking violently, her suppressed sobs almost inaudible amid the roar of the machines.

At her feet, several torn paper fragments lay scattered, hastily pieced back together.

James Morgan recognized her as Mrs. Zimmer, responsible for cleaning the executive office area, a veteran employee who had worked for the company for over a decade and was usually quiet and reserved.

"Mrs. Zimmer?" James Morgan called out softly.

The woman jerked her head up like a frightened rabbit, her face streaked with tears and fear. Seeing it was James Morgan, she seemed to relax slightly, but immediately became more flustered as she tried to gather up the paper fragments from the floor.

"It's... it's nothing, I'm leaving now..." her voice was hoarse, heavy with the sound of crying.

James Morgan didn't move. His gaze fell on those scraps of paper. Although they were torn, he immediately spotted the familiar table format and several key words—"Starlight Capital", "Irregular Cash Flow", "Audit Failed".

These were fragments of the internal audit report!

His heart suddenly tightened. Mrs. Zimmer? A cleaning lady? How could she have access to such things? And why was she so terrified that she tore them to pieces?

"Mrs. Zimmer," James crouched down, keeping his voice as calm as possible, "don't be afraid. I'm not here to cause you trouble. This stuff... did someone ask you to dispose of it?"

Mrs. Zimmer looked at him in terror, her lips trembling, unable to speak.

James looked at her hands covered with calluses and chilblains, at her old uniform washed so many times it had turned white. A thought flashed through his mind like lightning. The person conducting the internal audit must have an extremely sensitive position, needing an absolutely reliable channel to transfer or destroy evidence.

And wouldn't a cleaning staff who has been with the company for years, has a clean background, remains inconspicuous, and has free access to almost all offices be the perfect candidate?

"It's... it's Director Clark..." Mrs. Zimmer finally broke down, tears flowing again, speaking incoherently, "He told me to break these up and flush them away... said otherwise... otherwise we'd all be in trouble... he... he was taken away yesterday..."

Director Clark? James Morgan quickly searched his mind. A relatively minor audit director under the Finance Department, surnamed Clark, also a veteran from the Morgan era, mild-mannered, even somewhat timid. Could it be him?

"Who took him away?" James Morgan pressed.

"I don't know... people in black suits... not the police..." Mrs. Zimmer trembled all over, "Director Clark gave me a USB drive earlier, said if anything happened to him, I should find a way to give it to... give it to someone trustworthy... but I don't dare trust anyone..."

A USB drive!
James Morgan's breathing almost stopped. It was evidence! Director Clark was indeed the auditor! He had sensed the danger and left a contingency plan!

"Where's the USB drive?" James Morgan's voice carried an urgency he didn't even notice himself.

Mrs. Zimmer looked at him, her eyes full of struggle and fear. She wasn't familiar with the young security guard before her and wasn't sure if she should trust him.

Just then, footsteps and flashlight beams came from the entrance to the equipment level!

"Who's in there?" It was the other security guards on patrol!

Mrs. Zimmer's face instantly turned as white as paper.

James Morgan made a quick decision, rapidly gathering all the scraps of paper from the floor and stuffing them into his pocket, then grabbed Mrs. Zimmer's arm and whispered: "Don't make a sound, follow me!"

He was familiar with the layout of the equipment level and led Mrs. Zimmer through a narrow maintenance passage, winding through several turns, exiting the equipment level through another exit, leaving the pursuing security guards behind.

In an empty stairwell, James Morgan stopped. Mrs. Zimmer, still shaken, leaned against the wall, breathing heavily.

"Mrs. Zimmer, give me the USB drive." James Morgan looked at her, his gaze calm yet powerful. "The things Director Clark wanted to protect shouldn't fall into those people's hands. I can help you."

Mrs. Zimmer looked at his steady eyes, recalling his decisive assistance moments ago, and the balance in her heart finally tilted. With trembling hands, she took out a small USB drive tightly wrapped in plastic from her inner pocket and handed it to James Morgan.

"Be careful... they... they are terrifying..." she sobbed.

James Morgan took the USB drive that still carried her body warmth, feeling it like a red-hot branding iron. Inside this could very well be the key evidence to bring down Victor Shaw!

"Go home quickly, don't come to work for the next few days, and pretend nothing happened," James Morgan instructed.

Mrs. Zimmer nodded and left in a hurry.

James Morgan clutched the USB drive tightly in his palm, leaning against the cold wall. His heart pounded wildly in his chest, not out of fear, but from the excitement of being close to his goal.

Director Clark had been taken away, his fate unknown. Victor Shaw had moved faster and more ruthlessly than he had imagined.

But he got the USB drive!

This was, by far, the most substantial thing he had obtained. It was a spark of hope, but also potentially the explosive that could detonate everything.

He had to send this USB drive out immediately, hand it over to Gregory Gould. Every second it remained on him added another measure of danger.

He took a deep breath, adjusted his uniform, and prepared to leave this dangerous nest.

However, when he pushed open the stairwell door and walked into the first-floor lobby, he saw Captain Wilson standing at the entrance with several people, seemingly waiting for him.

Captain Wilson's expression was unprecedentedly serious.

"James Morgan," he spoke, his voice not loud, yet carrying an undeniable pressure, "There was some movement in the equipment section just now. During your patrol, did you notice any suspicious individuals?"

All eyes focused on James Morgan, concentrated on his hand that was tightly gripping the USB drive hidden in his pocket.

The air instantly froze.