Chapter 4 - The Report They Wanted Buried
Grant moved me into a secured corporate apartment that afternoon.
I hated the idea.
I hated needing it more.
At 7:30 p.m., he arrived carrying two laptops and a paper bag.
“What’s that?”
“Dinner.”
“I work in a restaurant.”
“You aren't there.”
“Excellent observation.”
He placed the bag on the counter.
“Do you argue with everyone?”
“Only billionaires who steal my phone.”
“I apologized.”
“And I accepted.”
“Then why do you keep mentioning it?”
“Because it's funny now.”
Grant actually laughed.
It was the first time I had heard him laugh without someone else being the target.
We ate Chinese food over spreadsheets.
At 9:18, Nolan called.
“We found something.”
Grant put him on speaker.
“What?”
“Northstar's original report was downloaded internally two days before it went public.”
I stopped eating.
“Impossible.”
Nolan continued.
“Someone forwarded it to an outside address.”
Grant asked, “Whose?”
“We're tracing it.”
I looked at Grant.
“How did your firm get my report before publication?”
Nolan hesitated.
“That’s the problem.”
Grant understood first.
“Someone had access to her draft.”
I felt sick.
The report had only existed in three places.
My laptop.
Cloud storage.
And—
“My professor.”
Grant looked at me.
“What?”
“When my mother got sick, I left school. But one professor kept encouraging me to finish my research.”
“Name?”
“Professor Samuel Reeves.”
Nolan typed in the background.
Then went silent.
“What?” Grant asked.
“Reeves consults for Keller Energy.”
I stood.
“No.”
“Fiona—”
“He helped me.”
Grant’s voice softened.
“That doesn't mean he didn't use you.”
I grabbed my phone.
“I’m calling him.”
Grant caught my wrist gently.
“Don't.”
“Let go.”
He immediately did.
“If Reeves is involved, calling warns him.”
“He knew about my mother. He knew why I left school.”
“And that may be exactly why he thought you wouldn't fight back.”
That hurt because it made sense.
At 10:06, Nolan called again.
“We have the forwarding records.”
Grant answered.
“And?”
“Reeves sent portions of Fiona's draft to Keller six months ago.”
I closed my eyes.
Six months.
Before Northstar existed.
Before the report went public.
Before Grant laughed at it.
Keller had known.
“There's more,” Nolan said.
“Of course there is,” I whispered.
“Reeves was paid seventy-five thousand dollars through a consulting company three weeks later.”
Grant stood.
“Send everything to legal.”
“I already did.”
I looked at him.
“What happens now?”
“Now we prove they used your research to hide the problem instead of disclose it.”
“And my name?”
Grant paused.
“That decision belongs to you.”
“What decision?”
“You can stay anonymous.”
I stared at him.
“You'd let Holloway Capital use the information without revealing me?”
“If that's what you want.”
“Why?”
He seemed surprised.
“Because it's yours.”
That answer mattered more than I expected.
The next morning, the amended covenant filing appeared.
11:43 a.m.
Seventeen minutes before noon.
Exactly as I had predicted.
Markets reacted within minutes.
Grant called from his office.
“Fiona.”
“I’m watching.”
The stock dropped six percent.
Then eleven.
Then trading halted.
Financial networks began reporting questions about the company's debt.
At 12:31, Keller Energy released a statement calling concerns “misleading speculation.”
I laughed.
Grant heard me.
“What?”
“They denied the wrong thing.”
He went quiet.
“What do you mean?”
“They denied liquidity problems.”
“Yes.”
“My report isn't primarily about liquidity.”
Grant understood.
“They're preparing for the wrong accusation.”
“Exactly.”
“Which means?”
“They're scared.”
By 2:00, regulators had requested documents.
By 3:15, three major funds announced they were reviewing their positions.
At 4:20, Professor Reeves called me.
I answered.
“Fiona.”
“Professor.”
“You need to stop.”
I pressed record.
“Stop what?”
“You don't understand the people you're dealing with.”
“Then explain them.”
“This isn't a university exercise.”
“No. Apparently it's worth seventy-five thousand dollars.”
Silence.
“Who told you?”
“You just confirmed it.”
He breathed heavily.
“Fiona—”
“You stole my research.”
“I protected you.”
“From what?”
“From yourself.”
I almost laughed.
“You were brilliant, but you were broke, exhausted, caring for your mother. You weren't going to do anything with it.”
“So you sold it.”
“I consulted.”
“You sold it.”
His voice hardened.
“Do you know what happens if you publicly accuse Keller?”
“No.”
“They destroy your credibility.”
“Let them try.”
“You didn't even finish your degree.”
There it was.
The sentence I had feared for years.
I looked through the window at Manhattan.
Then I realized something.
I wasn't ashamed anymore.
“No,” I said. “I didn't.”
He waited.
“My mother was dying.”
Silence.
“I chose her.”
“Fiona—”
“And I'd make the same choice tomorrow.”
I disconnected.
Grant stood in the doorway.
He had heard enough.
“You recorded that?”
“Yes.”
A small smile appeared.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Grant.”
He walked toward me.
“I was just remembering Sunday.”
“When you humiliated me?”
“When I thought you were a waitress pretending to understand Wall Street.”
I raised an eyebrow.
“And now?”
May you like
“Now I think Wall Street should be worried about the waitress.”
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