THE INTERN FILE

THE ADAM FILE: PART 2: SHADOW ACCESS

This is fiction.
This is what happens when power is misread — when the wrong person is underestimated, and the right one is quietly embedded.

After Adam's so-called "accidental email" went viral within the company, it was all anyone could talk about. Meeting rooms buzzed behind closed blinds. Group chats lit up. Staff whispered over vending machines and cautiously checked over their shoulders in pantry corners.

Because the content of that report wasn't just inconvenient. It was damning. Unfiltered accusations. Verified screenshots. Quotes that cut too close to reality.

But what circulated even faster than the report... was a rumour.

"He's someone's son."
"Must be a board member's kid."
"That's why HR hasn't touched him."
"He's protected."
"Anak orang dalam."

It made sense. How else could you explain the silence from the top? Adam hadn't been terminated. HR remained mute. No public statement. No denial. No damage control.

And Adam?

He simply smiled — Milo ice in hand — and let the speculation spread. But here's the truth.
The truth no one dared to consider:

Adam wasn't anyone's son.
He wasn't connected to the board.
He wasn't even listed in the official intern records.

His name never appeared in the formal intake documentation. No resume. No interview logs. No HR file. Only one thing got him in: A single instruction in a private email to Ops.
"Place him in Operations. No questions."

And just like that — he existed.

Where it gets darker:

Following the email leak, the IT department discreetly launched an internal audit. Unofficial, quiet, buried beneath layers of admin noise. The question was simple:

How did an intern get access to confidential, director-level documents?

What they discovered was far from simple. It was surgical. Adam had no direct access rights. No clearance for C-suite folders. No permissions to enter protected directories. And yet — every time the Head of Procurement opened a file...Adam opened it too. In real-time.

Their accounts were mirrored.

Her emails. Her documents. Her reports. All duplicated into a hidden shadow folder on the internal server. And the only machine connected to that shadow folder?

Adam's laptop.

"It's like someone cloned her access credentials... without her even knowing," whispered one of the senior network analysts. "That's not an accident. That's surveillance."

This wasn't an intern playing hacker. This was corporate espionage — deliberate, invisible, precise.

So now the real question wasn't:

"Who is Adam's father?"

It became:

"Who sent him?"
And more critically —
"Why?"

In the days that followed, two more resignations occurred. No farewell lunch. No handover documentation. No LinkedIn posts. Just silently vacated desks. Email auto-replies that never got turned off.

And Adam?

He remained. Same desk. Same smile. Same unshaken calm — like he already knew who was next. Someone once found a Post-it note he'd left on the pantry fridge. Just four words, scrawled in bold black ink:

"I'm not here to be liked.
I'm here to watch." - A