Chapter 8
By the time I left Robert’s office, we had a plan.
On Monday morning, Robert would file the civil suit.
Defamation.
Fraud.
Intentional infliction of emotional distress.
Conversion of property.
He would also notify the district attorney’s office and ensure law enforcement had everything necessary to act immediately.
The weekend was blissfully quiet.
I spent it with my daughter, Mia.
We went to the zoo, ate too much ice cream, and fed giraffes with sticky fingers and bad judgment. I didn’t check my company email once.
A few coworkers texted me.
Most were silent cowards masquerading as concerned observers.
A few sent half-hearted apologies.
Only Tom from IT sent me something useful.
Tom: This feels like a setup. Nate had me pull your key-card access logs last night. If you need any data backed up, tell me now.
Me: I’m good. But do me a favor. Back up the executive garage footage from Friday afternoon to a secure offshore server, just in case it “accidentally” gets deleted.
Tom: Done.
Me: See you Monday.
Tom: Wouldn’t miss it.
Monday morning arrived crisp and cold.
I dressed carefully: tailored charcoal suit, severe low chignon, not a single hair out of place.
I was not dressing like a victim.
I was dressing like an executioner.
When I stepped onto the executive floor, the silence was immediate.
Keyboards stopped clacking.
Conversations died mid-sentence.
Sarah from HR suddenly found her coffee fascinating. George, the sales manager, practically disappeared into a supply closet.
I walked calmly to my office.
The glass walls gave me a perfect view of the boardroom across the hall.
At 9:45, the elevator chimed.
Nate stepped out first, wearing the bright, overeager smile of a man who thought he had finally outrun disaster.
Beside him was Arthur Sterling.
Sterling was older, rich in the quiet, dangerous way old money tends to be. Sharp eyes. Impeccable tweed suit. The kind of man who missed absolutely nothing.
Trailing behind them was Madison, parading around in a pencil skirt and self-importance.
“Right this way, Arthur,” Nate said. “I trust the ride from the airport was comfortable.”
“Very,” Sterling replied. “Beautiful vehicle. A Cullinan, if I’m not mistaken. I have a Phantom in London. Shows the firm is doing well. I like partners who invest in quality.”
Nate laughed too quickly.
“Absolutely. We spare no expense for our top-tier clients.”
Madison beamed.
“I personally oversaw the detailing this weekend, Mr. Sterling.”
I watched them file into the boardroom.
Then my desk phone rang.