Rumor Has It I'm Dating the Football Captain

Chapter 147: Chapter 147: The Altered Record

The file didn’t just contain numbers. It contained a minefield.

Audrey stared at the senior operations executive’s name flashing on her monitor. She opened every single digital document attached to the investigation folder. She clicked through administrative approvals, stadium security authorizations, internal club memos, and financial asset movements spanning the entire final quarter of 2019.

His name appeared everywhere. He had signed off on security protocols during the exact week Daniel Mercer raised his initial financial complaint. He had control over the physical archive keys.

Yet, as she dug deeper, she hit a hard brick wall. Nothing directly connected him to the missing money. No unauthorized bank transfers looped back to his personal accounts. No signature of his sat on the shell company ledgers.

Audrey tapped her pen against the edge of her desk. She refused to fall into the trap of grabbing another convenient suspect just because his badge access matched the timeline. Journalism didn’t work on vibes.

She pulled a clean sheet of paper toward her and wrote three words in bold ink:

Connection isn’t proof.

She shoved the notebook into her bag and marched down the hallway toward the archive department.

Ben and Daisy were still buried under a mountain of paper when Audrey appeared at the doorway.

”I found another connection,” Audrey announced, stepping into the dusty room.

Ben looked up instantly, his eyes narrowing. ”Mason?”

”No,” Audrey said.

Ben let out a quiet breath he didn’t realize he was holding. ”Good.”

Audrey walked over and set her tablet down on the desk beside Daisy, pulling up the administrative files she had just reviewed. ”Look at the senior operations executive. His name pops up all over the stadium records during the week Mercer filed his complaint.”

Daisy leaned in, squinting at the screen. She scrolled through the authorization logs. ”Wait. Look at the permission levels. He didn’t just have general access to the building.”

Ben leaned closer, peering over Daisy’s shoulder. ”What am I looking at?”

”Restricted area clearances,” Daisy said. ”He had specific authorization over the east wing. Including the exact restricted zone where the missing activity supposedly took place.”

Ben reached over and hauled the physical 2019 documents back onto his lap. He pulled out the scattered pages they had analyzed earlier and lined them up in a strict row.

Original club schedule: Mason’s name absent. Revised record: Mason’s name present. Financial ledger: Mason’s name absent. Player and visitor attendance log: Mason’s name absent. Photograph: Mason outside the stadium.

The contradiction glared right back at them.

”So there’s nothing putting Mason in the room,” Daisy said.

”Not in the surviving records,” Ben corrected.

Audrey stared at the papers, a cold realization dawning on her. ”Someone didn’t need Mason to actually be in the room. They only needed the paperwork to make it look like he was.”

Ben immediately dropped his pen and reached for the digital database. He pulled up the revision history of the official club record.

At first, the system showed a blank metadata trail.

”Keep digging,” Audrey urged, standing over his shoulder.

Then Daisy pointed at the bottom corner of the digital scan. ”Right there. Look at the tiny text.”

Administrative Revision: November 2019.

Ben zoomed in. A string of alphanumeric digits sat right below the timestamp. An authorization code.

He highlighted the code and pasted it into the internal verification tool. The database spun for three seconds before spitting out the origin point.

It belonged directly to the senior operations department.

The archive room went dead silent.

Daisy blinked. ”That’s our guy.”

Ben immediately shook his head. ”It’s a connection. Not a confession.”

Audrey couldn’t help it. A tiny, faint smile touched the corners of her mouth. ”You’re becoming annoying.”

Ben didn’t look up from his screen. ”It’s called journalism.”

Before Ben could click open the next file, the heavy archive door creaked open.

Zane Kessler walked in. But the easy, effortless charm was entirely gone. He wasn’t smiling. He wasn’t holding a tray of pastries or talking about natural lighting for photographs.

His eyes swept over the room and landed directly on the open authorization code glowing on Audrey’s screen.

Zane froze. His entire posture went rigid.

”Where did you get that?” Zane demanded, his voice dropping an octave.

Audrey didn’t flinch. She crossed her arms. ”You know what that authorization code means?”

Zane didn’t answer her. He just stared at the screen like it was a live grenade.

A long, suffocating pause stretched between them.

”You shouldn’t have found that,” Zane said softly.

Ben immediately stepped forward, placing himself between Zane and the equipment. ”Why?”

Zane didn’t answer. He kept his eyes locked on Audrey.

”Because the person you’re looking at isn’t the person who started this,” Zane said.

Audrey’s eyes narrowed. ”Then who did?”

Zane looked toward the dark archive door, his expression unreadable. ”That’s the question you should be asking.”

He turned on his heel and walked out, his footsteps echoing sharply down the hall until they faded away.

Ben stared at the empty doorway. ”I really, really hate that guy.”

Audrey retreated back to her desk in the main bullpen. The newsroom hummed around her, but she felt entirely detached from the noise.

Her phone buzzed against her mousepad. She looked down. A text message from Mason lit up the screen.

Mason: You coming home?

She looked at the digital documents scattered across her screen. She considered telling him everything. She thought about laying out the altered records, the fake paper trail, and the senior operations executive.

Then she remembered their conversation from a couple of days ago.

”I have nothing to hide.”

She didn’t want to drag him deeper into a corporate conspiracy before she even knew who was pulling the strings. If she went to him half prepared, he would tear his own company apart trying to protect her from a shadow.

She tapped out a quick reply.

Audrey: Soon. Just finishing something at work.

Mason: Don’t stay too late.

Audrey stared at the screen. A soft, involuntary smile tugged at her lips for half a second. Then her expression flattened as she looked back at the cold files.

Romance could wait. The puzzle wasn’t finished.

She clicked back to the administrative revision document. She scrolled past the authorization code and looked at the metadata timestamps.

She noticed something everyone else had completely overlooked.

The timestamp was dated weeks after Mercer’s complaint. It wasn’t altered in the panic of Mercer raising his complaint.

It was revised weeks later.

That meant somebody had intentionally waited, watched the dust settle, and then decided what the official story should look like.

She checked who had active authorization during that specific window.

The senior operations department, exactly as they thought. But right beside it, sharing permission rights for that specific archival folder, was a second department.

Executive Administration.

Audrey’s pulse spiked. She clicked the attached document reference code.

The file was heavily corrupted. Most of the text was scrambled code and broken links. But near the center of the page, a single sentence had survived the deletion.

”Proceed with the revised account as discussed.”

No sender. No recipient. No timestamp. No explanation.

Just that.

Audrey stared at the screen, the breath trapped tightly in her chest.

Someone hadn’t just changed the record.

They had rewritten the story.