Three weeks earlier, one of Leah’s contract clients — a healthcare compliance firm — had brought her in to trace the source of a data exposure connected to NorthRiver Claims Solutions. She had spent six consecutive late nights in her apartment working through it: public-facing vulnerabilities in their patient portal infrastructure, archived employee authentication logs that had been improperly retained on an unsecured backup path, and internal process documents that had been indexed by a third-party vendor’s misconfigured API and made briefly discoverable through standard search queries before the error was caught and reported. She had signed a strict confidentiality agreement at the start of the engagement, as she always did, and there were significant things she could not discuss.
But there were facts she was entirely permitted to recognize when someone volunteered them publicly.
She thought about the six nights. The open energy drink cans. The notebook pages dense with network diagrams and timestamped access records. The call she had made to the compliance team at two in the morning when she found the third exposure pathway and understood the full scope of it. The very particular professional satisfaction of following a chain of evidence until it resolved into a clear picture, and the very particular professional frustration of understanding that the picture would have been obvious to anyone with the right training if only they had been looking.
Raymond was describing a company she understood better than he did.
He was using it as a credential while she sat eighteen inches away.
Raymond lifted his glass. “Big responsibilities. A lot of trust. The kind of thing you build a career on.”
Then: “Not like playing around on the internet.”
More laughter.
Leah reached into her bag and pulled out her phone. She did it without announcing it. Without rushing. She unlocked the screen and opened the notes app, where she had a record of certain public filings she had reviewed in the course of her work.
Around the table, something shifted. The laughter hadn’t stopped exactly, but it was thinning at the edges.
Raymond still hadn’t noticed.
Leah looked up at him and said, very softly, “NorthRiver Claims Solutions?”
Raymond smirked. “That’s right.”
“You started recently?”
“A month ago.” He picked up his fork. “Why?”