Chương 10
By evening, the article had been repeated by six outlets.
One described Mara as a “troubled executive.”
Another called the dinner incident “a broken-glass mishap.”
A gossip account posted an old photograph of her leaving a hospital after her father’s death and labeled it evidence of instability. The correction arrived later, beneath the original post, after thousands of comments.
Julian issued no public statement.
His silence looked dignified.
Mara sat on Nora’s couch scrolling until Dana called and told her to stop.
“Public opinion is not evidence,” Dana said.
“It affects witnesses.”
“Yes.”
“It affects my career.”
“Yes.”
“It affects whether anyone believes me.”
“Yes.”
“You keep agreeing.”
“Would you prefer false reassurance?”
Mara threw the phone onto the couch cushion.
Nora, folding baby clothes at the kitchen table, looked up. “That sounded productive.”
Mara stood. “I need my laptop.”
“No.”
“My personal laptop is at Julian’s house.”
“Then buy another one.”
“I can’t access my files.”
“You said not to access anything.”
“I have bank records. Tax files. My father’s scanned photographs.”
Nora folded a yellow onesie with unnecessary force. “Ask your lawyer.”
“I don’t need permission to retrieve my own property.”
“You also didn’t need permission to stay engaged to him, and look how well your independent judgment has been going.”
Mara stared at her.
Nora closed her eyes. “That was cruel.”
“Yes.”
“I’m sorry.”
Mara picked up her bag.
Nora stood. “Where are you going?”
“For a walk.”
“Security said not to go alone.”
“Security works for his family.”
“Lena helped you.”
“That doesn’t make me her prisoner.”
“You’re bleeding through the strip.”
Mara touched her eyebrow. Her fingers came away clean.
“No, I’m not.”
“I thought I saw—”
“You didn’t.”
They faced each other across the small living room.
Nora began to cry then, silently and angrily, wiping her cheeks with the heel of her hand.
“I don’t know how to help you,” she said.
Mara’s anger collapsed.
“You don’t have to.”
“That’s not true.”
“It should be.”
“Well, it isn’t.”
David entered through the front door carrying grocery bags. He looked from one sister to the other.
“I bought soup,” he said cautiously.
Nora laughed through her tears.
The sound was ugly and brief. Mara laughed too, and the movement hurt her face.
David set the bags down. “I’m glad the soup is landing.”
They ate at the kitchen table.
No one discussed Julian, Seabridge, the recording, or the article. David complained about a parent who had sent twelve emails regarding a missing homework grade. Nora argued that the baby’s room did not need a theme. Mara said all nurseries eventually developed the theme of exhaustion.
For twenty minutes, she was a sister eating soup.
Then her phone rang.
Priya Shah’s name appeared on the screen.
Dana had instructed her not to contact witnesses. She had said nothing about refusing their calls.
Mara answered.
Priya did not say hello.
“They fired me.”
Mara stood and carried the phone into the hallway. “When?”
“An hour ago.”
“Who?”
“Aaron and human resources. They said I violated document-retention policy.”
“Did they mention me?”
“They asked whether I gave you site photographs.”
“What did you say?”
“The truth.”
Mara leaned against the wall.
Priya’s voice shook with contained anger. “They said the photographs were preliminary work product and I had no authorization to distribute them outside the project team.”
“I was on the project team.”
“You were. Past tense.”
“They fired me too?”
“You’re on leave. Aaron told everyone not to contact you.”
Mara closed her eyes.
“I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“For involving you.”
“You didn’t involve me. I was standing in the trench the day before it failed.”
“Dana told me not to coordinate accounts.”
“Is that what you think this is?”
“No.”
“Good. Because I’m not calling to protect you.”
The words stung.
Priya continued. “I’m calling because the company removed Dr. Han’s inspection folder from the shared archive this morning. The folder is still listed, but every file inside gives an access error.”
“Did you save copies?”
“I saved some before today.”
“Don’t send them to me.”
“I know.”
“Talk to your own attorney.”
“I can’t afford the kind of attorney you have.”
Mara looked toward the kitchen. Nora had begun loading the dishwasher, though David was still eating.
“I’ll ask Dana for referrals.”
“I don’t want Ashcroft money paying for my lawyer.”
“It won’t.”
“Did Julian buy your mother’s condo?”
Mara went still.
“What?”
“That’s what people are saying. That your family depends on him and you threatened him when he wouldn’t give you more.”
“Who is saying that?”
“Everyone received an email reminding us not to speak to the press. Five minutes later, half the office knew your mother’s address.”
Mara pressed her free hand against the wall.
The loan had not been secret, exactly. It had been private. Julian had transferred the down payment through a family investment entity after the bank rejected Mara’s mother for insufficient retirement income.
He had refused interest.
Families help each other, he said.
Now the help had become leverage without anyone needing to state it.
“Priya, document your termination meeting. Write down who attended and what was said while it’s fresh. Do not use company equipment.”
“I already did.”
“Good.”
“You sound like a lawyer.”
“No. I sound scared.”
Priya was quiet.
“So am I,” she said.
After the call, Mara returned to the kitchen.
Nora was scrubbing a pot that had already been cleaned.
“Did Julian buy Mom’s condo?” she asked.
Nora stopped.
The running water filled the silence.
Mara crossed the room and turned off the faucet.
“Nora.”
“He helped.”
“How much?”
Nora looked at David.
David put down his spoon.
Mara felt the answer before either spoke.
“How much?”
“Most of the down payment,” Nora said.
“I paid him back.”
“Not all of it.”
“I have automatic transfers.”
“Mom stopped them in April.”
“Why?”
“She needed dental work. Then the association charged that special assessment.”
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“Why didn’t anyone tell me?”
“Because you were planning a wedding that cost more than the building.”
