Chương 10
Susan looked at him.
“You probably shouldn’t say that in this room.”
He laughed.
It sounded almost painful.
Claire gathered her papers.
Her phone showed twelve missed calls, ninety-six messages, and a breaking-news alert about Sterling Aviation shares even though the company did not have publicly traded common stock.
She opened the article.
It referred to privately placed debt as equity twice.
Claire closed it.
Some things were beyond governance.
At seven, most of the executive floor had emptied.
Claire found Tessa eating vending-machine pretzels in the internal-audit room.
“Dinner?”
Tessa held up the bag.
“Technically.”
Claire sat on the edge of a desk.
“Do you still hate me?”
Tessa considered.
“Less than this morning.”
“Progress.”
“You look terrible.”
“My mother said I looked thin.”
“Mothers say that.”
“She also thinks Richard is insane.”
“That’s not just mothers.”
Claire took a pretzel.
Tessa watched her.
“What happens to Nathan?”
“I don’t know yet.”
Tessa looked surprised.
“You told everybody you were deciding today.”
“Everybody keeps reminding me.”
“I thought you’d fire him before breakfast.”
“So did I.”
“Why didn’t you?”
Claire chewed the pretzel.
It was stale.
“Because firing him is easy.”
“He deserves it.”
“Probably.”
“Probably?”
Claire looked at her.
“He fired me to bury a compliance problem. He failed to disclose a conflict. He approved accounting decisions that may have misled lenders. He made millions if the numbers held.”
Tessa stared.
“You just made my argument.”
“But Richard created pressure. Martin approved closures. Legal tried to rewrite my certification instead of confronting the issue. The board liked the margins. Suppliers took the weird payment terms because they needed Sterling’s business.”
Tessa crossed her arms.
“So nobody is responsible because everybody is responsible?”
“No.”
Claire took another pretzel.
“Everybody is responsible for their part.”
Tessa studied her.
“You’re going to fire Richard.”
Claire almost choked.
“You can’t fire an owner.”
“You’re the owner.”
“He transferred voting control. He still has economic interests and a board seat.”
“So?”
“So corporate reality is more irritating than revenge fantasies.”
Tessa smiled.
Claire looked at the pretzel bag.
Then said, “I don’t know what I’m going to do.”
That night, she finally slept for three hours.
At 2:17 a.m., she woke because someone in the hotel corridor dropped something metal.
For several seconds she was back in the hangar.
Crystal breaking.
Nathan’s face turning after the slap.
Richard saying owner.
Claire lay in the dark.
She remembered the day Nathan fired her.
Not the meeting.
The lobby afterward.
Miguel had handed her the cardboard box because her hands were full.
Inside were two notebooks, a phone charger, a framed photograph of her parents, three pens she had stolen from conference rooms, and the ceramic fox mug.
The fox’s ear broke when the box shifted.
Claire had stared at it in the parking garage.
That was what finally made her cry.
Not the lost salary.
Not the accusation that she was difficult.
Not the humiliation of being escorted out.
A stupid ceramic fox she had bought at an airport gift shop in Portland because it looked irritated.
She had sat in her car holding the broken ear and laughed while tears ran down her face.
Humans were ridiculous.
Eight months later, she could own the controlling shares of the company and still feel angrier about the mug.
At six-thirty the next morning, First Continental agreed to keep the revolving facility available.
Temporarily.
Thirty days.
Conditions attached.
Weekly liquidity reporting.
No extraordinary executive compensation.
No major acquisitions.
Independent oversight of the audit review.
And a requirement that Sterling provide a remediation plan within ten business days.
Richard called it intrusive.
Claire called it better than insolvency.
Nathan’s attorney called at eight.
He wanted to discuss separation.
Claire declined.
At nine, Victoria called.
She had moved out.
Claire stood by a window in an empty conference room listening.
“I’m not telling you because I expect you to care,” Victoria said.
“Okay.”
“I’m telling you because he keeps asking whether I gave you the messages.”
“Did you answer?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
Claire waited.
Victoria sighed.
“I hate that I still want to protect him.”
“That seems normal.”
“Does it?”
“Yes.”
“I also want to throw his espresso machine off the balcony.”
“That also seems normal.”
Victoria laughed.
Then went quiet.
“Did you ever love him?”
Claire looked at the airport in the distance.
“No.”
“Did he think you did?”
“No.”
“What happened between you?”
“Professionally?”
Victoria waited.
Claire understood.
“There was nothing else.”
“He talked about you.”
“I’m sure it was flattering.”
“He said you liked being morally superior.”
Claire leaned against the window.
“He wasn’t entirely wrong.”
Victoria said nothing.
Claire surprised herself.
“I liked winning arguments with him.”
“Because he was wrong?”
“Sometimes because he was wrong.”
“And the other times?”
“Because he hated losing.”
Victoria laughed.
“Okay. That I understand.”
Claire looked at her watch.
“I have to go.”
“Claire.”
“Yes?”
“Don’t keep him because you feel sorry for him.”
“I don’t.”
“Good.”
Victoria ended the call.
At eleven, Claire received the next audit finding.
North Vale had not paid Nathan.
It had paid someone else.
Martin Ellison’s brother-in-law.
Not directly.
Through a subcontracting company.
The amount was $420,000 over fourteen months.
Martin requested counsel immediately.
Claire sat in Susan’s office while the finding was explained.
She felt almost nothing.
The day before, it would have shocked her.
Now it simply occupied a new square on a board that kept expanding.
“Does Martin know?” she asked.
“We informed counsel.”
“Is the brother-in-law relationship documented?”
“Yes.”
“Did Martin disclose it?”
“No record.”
“Did Nathan know?”
“We don’t know.”
Claire rubbed her forehead.
“Please stop discovering relatives.”
Susan almost smiled.
“I’ll tell the forensic team.”
Martin was placed on administrative leave before lunch.
Nathan’s attorney called thirty minutes later.
Nathan wanted another interview.
This time Claire agreed.
He came at three.
He looked worse.
No arrogance left.
May you like
That was not satisfying either.
Claire had imagined, during angry nights after her firing, that Nathan’s collapse would feel like justice.
