Chương 14
For the first time, I liked him.
Gavin stared at the closed office door.
Then he looked toward the small ceiling camera.
Toward me.
He knew exactly where it was.
His expression changed.
The anger became something quieter.
He stepped directly beneath it.
“Maddie.”
I did not move.
“She’s watching, right?”
Ellis said nothing.
Gavin kept looking upward.
“Madeline.”
The audio carried his voice clearly.
“I know you’re there.”
Bernice shut her eyes.
Paisley picked up the fallen sweater.
Gavin continued.
“You want the truth?”
My pulse sped up.
“I’ll give it to you.”
Ellis raised a hand.
“This is not the place.”
Gavin ignored him.
“Northline was mine.”
Bernice whispered, “Don’t.”
“Stonebridge was mine.”
Paisley said, “Gavin, shut up.”
He laughed.
“Now everybody wants me quiet.”
His eyes stayed on the camera.
“I moved money.”
My breath stopped.
“I intended to put it back after the property sold.”
Ellis’ face changed slightly.
Paisley looked sick.
Bernice covered her mouth.
Gavin continued.
“I used your approval because you would’ve said no.”
I grabbed the edge of the table.
There it was.
Not inferred.
Not suspected.
Spoken.
My first instinct was triumph.
It lasted less than a second.
Then came grief.
Gavin had just confessed inside the house where we had once painted a nursery together.
The absurdity of that almost knocked the air from me.
His voice softened.
“I wasn’t trying to steal from you.”
I closed my eyes.
Of course.
Even confession came with correction.
“I was trying to build something that was mine.”
Paisley shook her head.
“You were trying to hide it.”
Gavin snapped, “You knew.”
“I knew about Stonebridge.”
“You knew enough.”
“No.”
She pointed at him.
“I did not know you used her credentials.”
Bernice looked at Paisley.
“But you knew about the deed.”
Paisley went still.
Gavin smiled bitterly.
“Everybody knew something.”
Bernice’s face crumpled.
“That doesn’t make it right.”
“No.”
He looked at his mother.
“It makes it family.”
That sentence silenced them.
Even Ellis looked uncomfortable.
I stopped the live audio and called Samuel.
He answered immediately.
“You saw?”
“You were watching?”
“Ellis called me before access began.”
“Did you hear Gavin?”
“Yes.”
“Does it matter legally?”
“Potentially.”
“That is not an answer.”
“It is the only responsible answer.”
“He admitted using my approval.”
“He admitted it in a recorded security feed.”
“So that matters.”
“It matters.”
I sat down.
My knees felt unreliable.
“What happens now?”
“We preserve the recording.”
“And then?”
“We consult corporate counsel.”
“And then?”
“Madeline.”
“I need something more than procedure.”
Samuel was silent.
Then he said, “Then here is the human answer.”
I waited.
“You are no longer deciding whether you imagined this.”
My throat tightened.
“That helps less than you think.”
“I suspected it might.”
On the screen, Ellis had begun escorting them out.
Bernice carried her medication and a small overnight bag.
Paisley carried the duffel.
Gavin carried nothing.
At the threshold, he turned around once.
Not toward the camera.
Toward the foyer.
He stood there a second too long.
Then Ellis closed the door.
I did not watch the driveway.
I turned off the app.
For ten minutes, I sat without doing anything.
No calls.
No documents.
No lists.
The apartment’s air conditioner clicked on.
A pipe knocked somewhere behind the wall.
Someone in the unit above dragged a chair across the floor.
The baby rolled beneath my ribs.
I put both hands over him.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered.
I did not know what I was apologizing for.
Maybe everything.
Maybe nothing.
Monday morning, Samuel’s conference room contained too many people and not enough coffee.
Denise sat beside a corporate attorney named Rachel Kim.
Elena sat across from me with a yellow legal pad.
Samuel took the end of the table.
I sat nearest the door because pregnancy had turned bladder access into strategic planning.
Rachel began without small talk.
“Before we discuss removal, I want to separate three issues.”
I almost groaned.
She noticed.
“I know.”
“Apparently lawyers love categories.”
“We do.”
She held up one finger.
“Corporate governance.”
A second.
“Potential misuse of company funds.”
A third.
“Your marriage and property dispute.”
“They’re all the same person.”
“Yes.”
“They don’t feel separate.”
“They are legally.”
I nodded.
“Fine.”
Rachel looked at Elena.
“Current business operations?”
“Stable.”
“Payroll?”
“Covered.”
“Vendor relationships?”
“Two delayed payments, now resolved.”
“Client impact?”
“Minimal so far.”
“So far.”
Elena nodded.
Rachel turned to me.
“Removing Gavin immediately creates operational risk.”
My chest tightened.
“He stole from us.”
“Potentially.”
“He confessed.”
“He admitted moving money and using your approval.”
“That sounds like stealing.”
“It may be.”
I leaned back.
Rachel did not soften.
“But he also oversees three active projects and has relationships with subcontractors no one else currently manages.”
Elena spoke.
“I can absorb some.”
“Some isn’t all.”
“I know.”
Rachel looked at me again.
“If you remove him today, you may protect the company from further unauthorized activity while simultaneously damaging active projects.”
“So what do you suggest?”
“Restricted authority.”
I frowned.
“He stays?”
“Temporarily.”
My first reaction came fast and ugly.
“No.”
Nobody spoke.
I heard myself.
I hated how much it sounded like fear.
Rachel said, “Then we can discuss alternatives.”
I looked at Elena.
She did not look away.
“How bad would it be if he disappeared from operations today?”
She took her time.
“Manageable.”
“That isn’t what I asked.”
“No.”
Her jaw tightened.
“It would be bad.”
“How bad?”
“Two project supervisors depend on him for approvals.”
“Change the approvals.”
“We can.”
“Then do it.”
“One subcontractor only deals with Gavin.”
“Find another subcontractor.”
“That takes time.”
“I don’t care.”
Elena’s expression changed.
“You should.”
The room went still.
I folded my arms.
“He used my credentials.”
“Yes.”
“He diverted company money.”
“Yes.”
“He lied.”
“Yes.”
“So why are we discussing his convenience?”
“We aren’t.”
Elena leaned forward.
“We’re discussing twenty-eight employees who did not cheat on you.”
The words landed hard.
I looked away.
She continued.
May you like
“They need paychecks.”
“I know.”
