Chapter 5 - Diane’s Last Bargain
Diane walked into my office without jewelry.
That was the first thing I noticed.
No diamond earrings.
No gold bracelet.
No designer handbag.
Just a gray coat and a folder clutched against her chest.
Marcus remained near the door.
“You have five minutes,” I said.
Diane sat.
“I need protection.”
“From what?”
“Jessica.”
That surprised me.
Diane pushed the folder across the desk.
Inside were bank records.
Payments from JL Strategic Partners to three Sterling Meridian procurement managers.
Then payments to an outside company.
I recognized the name.
Hawthorne Infrastructure.
One of our largest competitors.
I looked up.
“Explain.”
Diane swallowed.
“Jessica wasn’t only taking money.”
“What was she doing?”
“Selling information.”
My expression hardened.
“What information?”
“Bid numbers. Acquisition targets. Internal forecasts.”
I closed the folder.
“And you knew?”
“Not at first.”
“When did you learn?”
“Six months ago.”
“You said nothing.”
“She threatened Brendan.”
“With what?”
“Evidence that he approved the original contracts.”
I leaned back.
“So you helped conceal corporate theft to protect your son.”
Diane’s eyes filled with tears.
I felt no satisfaction.
“You humiliated me because you thought I was beneath your family.”
She looked down.
“Yes.”
“And all that time, you were terrified your family would be exposed.”
“Yes.”
“Why come here now?”
Her voice broke.
“Because Brendan refused to help me.”
That surprised me more than anything else.
“What?”
“He told me to come here and confess.”
I stared at her.
Diane gave a bitter laugh.
“My own son said, ‘Mom, for once in your life, stop trying to win.’”
She pushed another drive toward me.
“This has everything.”
Arthur reviewed the files.
By evening, outside counsel had enough information to refer the suspected criminal conduct to the proper authorities and launch a full independent investigation.
Jessica called me seventeen times.
I answered the eighteenth.
“You ruined my life!” she screamed.
“No, Jessica.”
“You think because you’re rich—”
“This isn’t about money.”
“You fired me!”
“You stole from my company.”
“I worked for everything I had!”
“You invoiced us millions for work you couldn’t prove existed.”
Silence.
Then she changed tactics.
“Brendan loved me.”
“That’s between you and Brendan.”
“He left you for me.”
“Yes.”
“You don’t care?”
“No.”
That answer seemed to hurt her more than anger would have.
“You’re lying.”
“I’m not competing with you, Jessica.”
She went quiet.
“I never was.”
I ended the call.
That night, I left the office after ten.
Brendan was waiting downstairs.
Not in a luxury car.
Not in a tailored suit.
Jeans.
A plain jacket.
He looked exhausted.
“Why are you here?”
“My mother told me she confessed.”
“She did.”
“Is she going to prison?”
“I don’t decide that.”
He nodded.
“I know.”
I walked toward my car.
“Cassidy?”
I stopped.
“I found a job.”
I turned.
“Already?”
“A warehouse supervisor position.”
I almost smiled.
“Your résumé says divisional executive.”
“I removed that part.”
“You can’t remove your employment history.”
“I know.”
He rubbed the back of his neck.
“I mean I stopped applying for executive jobs.”
“Why?”
“Because maybe I should learn how the company actually works before I ever manage people again.”
For once, I had no sharp response.
He looked at my stomach.
“How is she?”
“Healthy.”
“Good.”
He swallowed.
“Can I ask something?”
“What?”
“Have you chosen a name?”
“Yes.”
He waited.
I almost walked away.
Then I said, “Grace.”
His eyes softened.
“Grace.”
“Yes.”
“That’s beautiful.”
I opened the car door.
“Cassidy?”
I looked back.
“I’m sorry.”
This time there were no cameras.
No board members.
No lawyers.
No advantage to gain.
Just a man standing in a parking garage after losing almost everything.
I nodded once.
“I know.”
May you like
Forgiveness wasn’t reconciliation.
But perhaps it was the first brick in something our daughter might someday stand on.
