Chương 9
A supervisor refusing to hold a scheduled listening session.
A group of machinists wearing stickers that read ASK US BEFORE YOU ERASE US.
Two resignations in engineering.
One canceled vendor contract.
“This has already moved beyond communications.”
“I know.”
“You have an internal trust collapse.”
“I know.”
“And possibly someone inside your own leadership team deliberately accelerating it.”
“Yes.”
She closed the folder.
“Why?”
“That’s one of the things I want to understand.”
“Maybe whoever leaked it thinks employees deserve to know.”
“They leaked a draft as though it were final.”
“People convince themselves distortion is justified when they think the larger truth is being hidden.”
Adrian’s eyes narrowed slightly.
“Is that your professional assessment?”
“No.”
“What is it?”
“My personal experience from being dumped by a man who probably spent two months telling himself he was protecting me from uncertainty.”
Adrian looked down at the folder.
“That was specific.”
“It’s been an educational weekend.”
He did not smile this time.
Eve opened the folder again.
“Do employees know about Claire’s connection to Sterling Capital?”
“Some do.”
“Do they know she was your wife?”
“Many of the older employees do.”
“And the newer ones?”
“Not necessarily.”
“Does the board know how emotionally compromised you are about this acquisition?”
Adrian’s expression became unreadable.
“Emotionally compromised?”
“You bought your dead wife’s family company against what she wanted while she was alive.”
The words sounded harsher once spoken.
Eve winced.
“That came out badly.”
“It came out clearly.”
“I’m not trying to insult you.”
“No.”
He looked toward the photograph.
“You’re trying to determine whether I can make a rational decision.”
“Can you?”
His eyes returned to hers.
“I don’t know.”
It was the most unsettling answer he could have given.
Eve closed the folder.
“Then why are you the one making it?”
“Because I’m chief executive.”
“That isn’t a reason.”
“It’s the organizational reason.”
“Not the moral one.”
“No.”
She let the silence sit.
Outside the office, Simon passed again, this time without folders.
He glanced inside and kept walking.
Adrian’s phone vibrated a second time.
He ignored it again.
“When does the board meet?”
“Next Thursday.”
“That gives you ten days.”
“Nine.”
“Why nine?”
“The restructuring committee circulates its recommendation Wednesday morning.”
“So you need something before then.”
“Yes.”
Eve began calculating without meaning to.
Her agency could send a small team.
Two days at the plant, perhaps three.
Interviews off-site if employees were nervous.
Anonymous survey data would be nearly useless this quickly unless designed carefully.
The more interesting question was who had access to the leaked draft and what people at Westbridge believed management was hiding.
“You want me there tomorrow.”
Adrian did not answer.
“You do.”
“I was going to say Wednesday.”
“That is only marginally less unreasonable.”
“I’m trying to improve.”
“Slowly.”
He nodded.
Eve stared at the folder.
Marianne would hate this.
Not the work.
The circumstances.
Eve herself was not sure whether she hated the circumstances or was grateful for them.
Three days ago, her future had contained Preston, a possible engagement, their apartment, and a career path she understood.
Now Preston was protecting another woman’s name while Adrian Sterling was asking her to walk into a factory connected to his dead wife and tell him whether three hundred and eighty jobs were being destroyed by economics, mistrust, or both.
Her life had developed poor boundaries.
“What happens if I tell you the layoffs are necessary?”
Adrian’s face did not move.
“Then I’ll have to decide whether I believe you.”
“That sounds reassuring.”
“It’s honest.”
“What if I tell you they aren’t?”
“Same answer.”
Eve looked at him.
“So you’re not asking me to validate what you already want.”
“No.”
“You’re sure?”
“No.”
She blinked.
Adrian leaned back.
“I’m telling you I’m trying not to.”
That answer felt more credible than certainty.
Eve slipped the anonymous email back into the folder.
“I need Marianne involved.”
“Of course.”
“Lena too.”
“Yes.”
“I choose who I interview.”
“Within legal limits.”
“I need access to financial assumptions behind the restructuring.”
“That may be restricted.”
“Then my assessment will be restricted.”
“I’ll see what can be provided.”
“And I’m not reporting only to you.”
Adrian’s eyebrows lifted.
“Who else?”
“Lena and Marianne.”
He considered that.
“Fine.”
“Not fine in the way powerful people say fine before quietly changing the arrangement.”
His expression almost warmed.
“Actually fine.”
Eve stood.
Adrian stood too.
She handed him the folder.
“Then ask my agency properly.”
“And don’t tell Marianne this was my idea.”
“It wasn’t.”
“Excellent.”
“She’ll know that.”
Eve reached for her suitcase.
This time Adrian did not touch it.
Her phone vibrated.
A message from Preston appeared across the screen.
Please don’t make me the villain just because I handled this badly.
Eve stared at it.
Something ugly and immediate rose in her chest.
She typed, You handled it exactly the way a villain would, then deleted the sentence.
Adrian was gathering the papers into the folder.
He did not look at her screen.
That small courtesy made the decision easier.
Eve blocked Preston’s number.
Her thumb hovered for half a second before she confirmed it.
Then the screen went quiet.
Adrian looked up.
“Everything okay?”
“No.”
Eve slipped the phone into her coat pocket.
“But I’m getting tired of waiting for it to be.”
For the first time since she entered the office, Adrian looked at her not as a consultant, not as the woman from the airport, but as if he understood exactly what that sentence cost.
He opened the office door.
“Lena will call Marianne within the hour.”
Eve nodded and wheeled her suitcase into the corridor.
She had made it halfway to the elevator when Adrian spoke behind her.
“Eve.”
She turned.
He stood beside the open glass door, one hand in his pocket.
“If you go to Westbridge, there’s something you should know before you talk to anyone.”
She waited.
His face had gone still again.
Not corporate stillness.
May you like
Something older.
“Claire didn’t just oppose selling the company.”
