Chương 4
Neither of them looked relaxed.
Neither did I.
At exactly three minutes after the scheduled time, Marcus entered.
He was not wearing the navy suit from the day he fired me.
This time he wore a gray jacket with no tie.
It was a small change.
Maybe meaningless.
Maybe not.
He looked older than he had forty-eight hours earlier.
“Lily.”
I nodded.
“Marcus.”
He sat across from us.
For several seconds, nobody spoke.
A server placed water glasses on the table and left without realizing she had walked into something much heavier than a business meeting.
Marcus touched the glass but did not drink.
“I owe you an explanation.”
I looked at Rachel.
She gave me a slight nod.
Not permission.
Just a reminder to listen.
“I’m interested in hearing it,” I said.
Marcus looked down.
“I was told there were concerns about your expenses.”
“That sounds familiar.”
His eyes lifted.
There was embarrassment there.
Not enough to make me forgive him.
Enough to make me believe something had changed.
“I received a report from finance.”
“About a hotel.”
“Yes.”
“Not about the software?”
His expression tightened.
That was the first real answer he gave me.
Rachel noticed too.
“Who prepared the report?” she asked.
Marcus looked at her.
“Are you representing Lily?”
“Yes.”
He nodded slowly.
“Then I assume you already know what happened.”
“No,” Rachel said.
“We know what happened after the termination.”
Marcus looked away.
For the first time, he looked like someone who had lost control of a situation rather than someone controlling it.
“I didn’t know about the licensing issue.”
The words sat there.
Simple.
Almost impossible.
I felt my jaw tighten.
“You were the CTO.”
“I know.”
“You reviewed engineering systems.”
“I reviewed reports.”
“That is not the same thing.”
“No.”
His answer came quickly.
“I know that now.”
I hated how much that sentence affected me.
Not because it fixed anything.
Because part of me had wanted him to be completely arrogant.
It would have been easier.
Anger was easier when the other person refused to understand.
Marcus opened a folder.
“I want to be clear.”
He pushed a document across the table.
“This is not an attempt to pressure you.”
I did not touch it.
Rachel picked it up instead.
“What is this?”
“A request from the board.”
“That is not an answer.”
Marcus looked at the paper.
“They want to discuss a temporary continuation agreement.”
I stared at him.
“Temporary.”
“Yes.”
“You fired me on Monday.”
“Yes.”
“You want me back on Wednesday.”
He swallowed.
“I want to prevent damage.”
There it was.
The thing beneath everything.
Not apology.
Not regret.
Fear.
“What happened?” I asked.
Marcus rubbed his forehead.
“The payment system started failing after your access was removed.”
“I expected that.”
“No.”
He shook his head.
“You don’t understand.”
The irritation that appeared in his voice surprised me.
Not anger.
Frustration.
Almost desperation.
“We thought your systems were documented.”
“They were.”
“We thought the team could maintain them.”
“They could.”
“Then why are they failing?”
I looked at him.
“Because maintenance is not ownership.”
Nobody spoke.
Marcus looked at the table.
“You’re saying the company has been depending on you.”
“I’m saying the company has been depending on software it licensed from me.”
Rachel interrupted.
“Marcus, before we discuss anything further, we need the full record of how Westbridge represented ownership internally.”
He nodded.
“I know.”
That surprised me.
“You know?”
“I found the files last night.”
“Where?”
“In legal archives.”
He laughed once without humor.
“It took me less than an hour to find the agreement once I knew what I was looking for.”
The answer bothered me more than if he had said he could not find it.
Because it meant the information had been there.
Not hidden.
Not destroyed.
Ignored.
“Why did nobody know?” I asked.
Marcus looked at me.
“I don’t know.”
That was the first honest thing he had said.
Maybe the first honest thing he had been allowed to say.
He leaned back.
“When I joined Westbridge, I was told engineering had too many informal processes.”
I almost smiled.
Informal was a polite word executives used when they inherited systems they did not understand.
“I was hired to fix that,” he continued.
“And I believed that meant replacing old habits.”
“You mean people.”
His eyes moved to mine.
“I thought some people were too connected to the old way of doing things.”
The sentence hurt because it confirmed something I had suspected.
Marcus had not fired me because of a receipt.
The receipt had been evidence he could use.
The real issue was that I represented something he wanted to remove.
Dependence.
History.
A system he did not build.
“Who gave you the report?” Rachel asked.
Marcus hesitated.
That hesitation changed the room.
“Marcus.”
He looked at her.
“If we are going to resolve this, we need the truth.”
He looked down.
“Elliot Voss.”
I knew the name.
Everyone in engineering knew the name.
Elliot was the new director of infrastructure.
He had joined two weeks after Marcus.
He was talented.
Aggressive.
The kind of person who always sounded like he was five minutes away from solving a problem nobody else noticed.
“I thought he was helping you,” I said.
“He was.”
“Was?”
Marcus looked uncomfortable.
“He brought me the expense concerns.”
“And the ownership issue?”
“He said nothing.”
Rachel wrote something down.
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
Again.
That answer was becoming a pattern.
I looked at the window beside us.
Cars moved below.
People crossed streets.
Somewhere inside those buildings, people were making decisions that would affect other people who would never know their names.
“I need access restored,” I said.
Marcus looked at me.
“Okay.”
“No.”
I shook my head.
“Not like this.”
“What do you mean?”
“I need everything documented.”
Rachel nodded.
“Correct.”
Marcus looked between us.
“You think I’m trying to trap you.”
“I think you are trying to save the company.”
May you like
“That is not the same thing.”
“No.”
