Chapter 7: Thursday
The board meeting was held on the forty-first floor.
Emily wasn't there.
She had offered to come; Marcus had told her it wasn't necessary, and she had understood what he meant — not that he didn't want her, but that he needed to walk into that room as himself, without the weight of her watching him carry it.
She waited at home.
She made coffee.
She read the same page of a book four times without taking in a word.
At 9:14 a.m., her phone buzzed.
A text from Raymond: *It's done.
Daniel is with security now.
Lawrence's attorney has been notified.*
She set the phone face-down on the desk.
At 10:40, Marcus called.
"How did he take it?" she asked.
"He tried to negotiate." Marcus's voice was measured, but she could hear the tiredness underneath it.
"He said he would return the money if we kept it internal.
No authorities, no public statement.
He said it would be better for the company's reputation."
"What did the board say?"
"They said no."
"And then?"
"Then he said the Meridian file was real and he would release it publicly if we proceeded." A pause.
"Raymond had the forensic analysis on screen.
He walked Daniel through every fabricated element.
Date stamps, metadata, document formatting inconsistencies." Another pause.
"Daniel stopped talking after that."
Emily looked out the window at the garden.
The morning light was flat and grey.
"Where is he now?" she asked.
"With the company's legal team.
His own attorney is on the way." Marcus paused.
"The financial regulator has been notified.
Raymond submitted the full audit package this morning."
"And Lawrence?"
A longer pause.
"Lawrence's attorney negotiated a cooperation agreement last night," Marcus said.
"He'll give full testimony about the coercion.
In exchange, the charges against him will reflect that he acted under duress and cooperated fully from the beginning."
"Is that fair?"
"It's accurate," Marcus said.
"Whether it's fair — I'm still working on that."
Emily was quiet.
"Come home," she said.
"I have two more meetings.
The communications team needs a statement for the press."
"After that.
Come home."
"Yes," he said.
"After that."
She hung up.
She stood in the kitchen for a moment, then walked to the window.
The garden was still.
A bird landed on the fence post, looked around, flew away.
Her phone buzzed again.
A different number this time.
She looked at the screen.
Vanessa.
Emily stood there looking at the name for three full rings.
Then she answered.
"Emily." Vanessa's voice was stripped bare — no performance, no social register, nothing left but the sound of a woman sitting in the wreckage of a morning.
"I didn't know.
About any of it.
I need you to know that."
"I believe you," Emily said.
A sharp intake of breath on the other end.
Like Vanessa had been bracing for something different.
"I don't know what to do," Vanessa said.
"I don't know who to call.
My sister lives in Portland and I—" Her voice broke.
"I don't have anyone here."
Emily looked at the garden.
Twenty-three years.
Instant noodles on a hot plate.
Two girls who had nothing and thought that was temporary.
"Are you at home?" Emily asked.
"Yes."
"Stay there.
I'll come."
Silence on the line.
"Why would you do that?" Vanessa said.
"After last night—"
"Because you're frightened and you're alone," Emily said.
May you like
"And because I remember who you were before all of this."
She picked up her keys.
