Chapter 6: The Leak
Grace arrived within the hour.
She came in without knocking, closed the door behind her, and stood at the foot of the bed with her arms crossed and the particular expression of someone who is managing fury through precision.
"You already know," Nora said.
"I found out forty minutes ago." Grace's voice was flat.
"His name is Marcus Webb.
He's a junior associate in my office.
He's been with us for two years." She paused.
"He processed three of the document requests on your case."
"Which three?"
"The financial records.
The witness statement cross-references.
And the subpoena list." Grace looked at her steadily.
"He knew who we were going to call before we called them."
Nora's father stood up from his chair.
"How much did he pass on?"
"We don't know yet.
We're pulling his communications now." Grace moved to the window.
"What we do know is that the message to Daniel came from a number registered to a shell company that traces back to a Whitmore subsidiary."
The room was quiet.
"So Whitmore knew about Daniel before last night," Nora said.
"They knew we had a cooperating witness.
They may not have known it was Daniel specifically until he walked into that ballroom." Grace turned from the window.
"The good news is that Daniel is safe.
We moved him this morning.
The better news is that Webb didn't know about the second hard drive."
Nora looked up.
"There's a second hard drive."
"Daniel made a copy.
He gave us the original last night.
The copy has been in a secure location for three weeks." Grace allowed herself a small, controlled exhale.
"Whatever Webb passed on, it doesn't touch the copy.
And the copy has everything the original has."
"Does Callum's attorney know that?"
"Not yet."
Nora thought about Callum's face in the ballroom — that specific, draining fear when he saw Daniel.
She thought about the motion to suppress the recordings.
She thought about a man inside Grace's office quietly feeding information to a firm that had walked away from three federal investigations clean.
"They're not trying to win," Nora said.
"They're trying to survive long enough to make this too expensive to continue."
Grace looked at her.
"Yes," she said.
"That's exactly what they're doing."
"So what do we do?"
"We accelerate." Grace picked up her tablet.
"I'm moving the timeline on the Fenn charges.
I want him formally suspended before his attorney can arrange a quiet resignation.
A resignation lets him keep his pension and muddies the narrative.
A suspension under investigation does neither." She looked at Nora's father.
"I need Nora's full recorded statement by tomorrow morning.
Not a summary.
The complete account, from the beginning of the marriage."
"She just gave birth yesterday," he said.
"She gave birth this morning," Grace said.
"And I'm asking for tomorrow."
They both looked at Nora.
"Tomorrow morning," Nora said.
"I'll be ready."
Grace nodded.
She moved toward the door, then stopped.
"There's one more thing." She didn't turn around immediately.
When she did, her expression had changed — not softer, exactly, but more careful.
"Callum's attorney made a second approach this morning.
Not to Daniel."
"To who?" Nora's father asked.
"To you," Grace said.
She was looking at Nora.
"They want to offer a settlement.
Full restoration of your accounts and assets, the custody ruling vacated, and a financial payment." She paused.
"In exchange for your withdrawal from the federal case and a signed non-disclosure agreement."
The monitor beside the bed kept its rhythm.
"How much?" Nora asked.
Grace told her.
It was a number that would have changed her life two years ago.
It was a number designed to make a woman who had been through what Nora had been through feel like she could finally stop.
"No," Nora said.
Grace studied her.
"You understand that if you decline, this gets harder before it gets easier."
"I understand."
"They will use everything.
Your history with your father.
The estrangement.
Your finances before the marriage.
Anything that makes you look unstable or motivated by something other than the truth."
"I know."
"And you're still saying no."
"Claire Maddox's daughter sees her mother every other week," Nora said.
"Because of what this family did.
Because of the same judge, the same firm, the same method." She looked at Grace directly.
"If I take that money and sign that paper, they do it again.
To someone else.
Maybe someone who doesn't have a father who came back."
Grace held her gaze for a long moment.
Then she said, "I'll tell them no."
She left.
Nora's father sat back down.
He didn't say anything for a while.
Then:
"I should have come back sooner."
"You came back when it mattered," Nora said.
"That's not the same thing."
"No," she said.
"It's not." She looked at him.
"But it's what we have.
And it's enough."
He nodded slowly.
Outside the window, the morning had gone grey, and somewhere down the corridor a door opened and closed, and the monitor kept its quiet, steady count.
Then Nora's phone lit up on the bedside table.
A message.
Unknown number.
May you like
Three words:
*You should stop.*
