Chương 10
Then she left.
I sat with that.
Thomas started reorganizing papers.
Grant checked his phone.
For half a minute, the room became strangely ordinary.
Air conditioning hummed.
A truck backed up somewhere in the alley below.
Someone in the outer office laughed about lunch.
I looked at my hands and noticed a streak of blue ink on my thumb.
For a second, it reminded me of Marcy.
“How is she?”
I asked.
Thomas looked up.
“Who?”
“Marcy.”
“I don’t know.”
“She was there when Carlos was suspended.”
“Yes.”
“Has anyone spoken to her?”
“Grant’s firm requested an interview this afternoon.”
“Did Derek approve it?”
Grant answered.
“It is a board-directed governance review.”
“So he doesn’t get to approve it.”
“Correct.”
“Will that protect her?”
“No.”
The answer was immediate.
I looked at him.
“No?”
“Not completely.”
“She could be retaliated against.”
“She could.”
“And then what?”
“Then the company responds.”
“That is a terrible system.”
“It is a realistic one.”
I got up and walked to the window.
From the second floor, downtown looked smaller than it did from the street.
A man in a delivery uniform was eating something from foil while sitting on the curb.
Two women stood outside the bank across the street, arguing over whether a parking meter had accepted a card.
Normal life, again.
Always continuing.
My phone buzzed.
A message from a number I did not recognize.
Ms. Wren, this is Lydia Rowe.
I turned around.
“Grant.”
He saw my face.
“What?”
“Lydia is texting me.”
His chair moved back immediately.
“What does it say?”
I read the message aloud.
Ms. Wren, this is Lydia Rowe.
I need to speak with you privately about Monday.
Thomas stood.
Grant held out his hand.
“Give me the phone.”
“No.”
“Elena.”
“I can read.”
“That has not been the central concern.”
Another message arrived.
I did not know who you were when I changed the presentation.
My pulse climbed.
Then a third.
He did.
Nobody spoke.
Grant stepped beside me.
“Do not answer.”
“I wasn’t going to.”
The typing indicator appeared.
Then vanished.
Then returned.
A fourth message arrived.
He told me to remove anything that could make Wrenfield question the savings plan.
Thomas swore quietly.
Grant remained still.
Another message.
After the ownership report came Monday, he asked whether you had access to board materials.
And another.
I told him I didn’t know.
Then:
He said he needed to solve the Elena problem before Thursday.
My throat went dry.
Elaine returned carrying a paper cup.
“What happened?”
Thomas pointed at my phone.
She read the messages over my shoulder.
“Oh.”
That was all she said.
The typing indicator appeared again.
I waited.
Nothing came.
Then the phone rang.
Lydia.
Grant said, “Do not answer without telling her counsel is present.”
I looked at him.
“She contacted me.”
“I know.”
“She may be scared.”
“I know.”
“If Derek finds out—”
“That is precisely why we handle this correctly.”
The phone continued ringing.
I answered.
“Lydia.”
Her breathing came through before her voice.
“I’m sorry.”
“Grant Levin is here with me.”
Silence.
Then, “The lawyer?”
“Yes.”
“I didn’t want lawyers.”
Grant leaned closer but did not speak.
“That may not be avoidable now.”
“I just wanted you to know I didn’t make those changes because I thought they were true.”
Her voice trembled.
“I was told what to put in.”
“Lydia, I need you not to send me any documents.”
“I have emails.”
“Don’t send them to me.”
“But you need to see—”
“Preserve them.”
Grant nodded once.
“Do not delete, edit, forward, or move anything.”
She started crying.
Not loudly.
It came through as a broken breath she tried to swallow.
“I think he knows they’re looking.”
I gripped the phone.
“Why?”
“He asked me ten minutes ago whether anyone from the board contacted me.”
“What did you say?”
“That Grant’s office requested an interview.”
“Okay.”
“He got really quiet.”
“Lydia.”
“I’ve never seen him get that quiet.”
Grant mouthed, Ask where she is.
“Where are you?”
“In my car.”
“At Harborstone?”
“No.”
“Where?”
“Grocery-store parking lot.”
“Are you safe?”
“Yes.”
She breathed in sharply.
“He told me to go home for the day.”
“Did he threaten you?”
“No.”
“Did he ask you to change or delete anything?”
“No.”
That mattered.
Grant wrote something on the legal pad.
“Then don’t assume what happens next,” I said.
The words sounded like his.
Maybe that was not a bad thing.
“I’m scared I’m going to lose my job.”
Lydia’s voice became smaller.
“I have two kids.”
I closed my eyes.
This was what ownership looked like from the other side.
Not voting percentages.
Not control.
A woman in a grocery-store parking lot calculating whether telling the truth could cost her health insurance.
“Lydia, Grant’s office will contact you.”
“Are you firing Derek tomorrow?”
The question caught everyone in the room.
I looked at Thomas.
He looked back.
“No decision has been made.”
“You own the company.”
“Yes.”
“Then you can.”
I could hear something almost desperate in her voice.
Not vengeance.
A wish for someone stronger to make uncertainty disappear.
Yesterday, I might have liked that role.
Today, it frightened me.
“I can vote my shares,” I said.
“But I’m not going to decide what happened before the evidence is reviewed.”
She was quiet.
Then she whispered, “Okay.”
I wondered whether that answer disappointed her.
It disappointed part of me.
Grant took over the call long enough to arrange for Lydia to speak with another attorney from his firm.
When it ended, Thomas sat again.
Elaine remained standing.
I placed my phone on the table.
Nobody celebrated.
Nobody said we had him.
That would have felt obscene after hearing Lydia cry.
Thomas broke the silence.
“This changes tomorrow.”
“Yes,” Grant said.
“How?”
“We ask Derek to respond to the evidence.”
Elaine stared at him.
“At the shareholder meeting?”
“At a properly noticed executive session associated with it.”
“And if he lies?”
May you like
“Then the board evaluates that.”
“And if he tells the truth?”
