Chapter 7: The Board Member
His name was Gerald Foss.
He had been on Daniel's board for two years, appointed through a governance restructuring that Daniel himself had approved.
He was sixty-one, well-dressed in the manner of men who want to appear understated, and he had always been the quietest person in any meeting — the one who asked one precise question and then went still.
Daniel had always respected that about him.
He called Gerald from the parking lot of the coffee shop.
Gerald picked up on the third ring.
"Daniel.
I heard you came back early."
"I did." Daniel kept his voice level.
"I need to meet with you today.
In person."
A short pause.
"Of course.
Is everything alright?"
"I'd rather talk in person."
"I have a lunch at one.
I could do eleven."
"Eleven is fine.
My office."
He hung up and went back inside.
Richard was still at the table.
"He agreed to meet," Daniel said.
"Eleven o'clock."
Richard nodded slowly.
"Be careful how you open it.
If he knows you've spoken to me, he'll shut down immediately."
"I know." Daniel sat back down.
"I want to give him the chance to tell me himself.
If he doesn't take it, then I put everything on the table."
"And if he denies it?"
Daniel picked up the folder.
"Then I hand this to my attorney and let the process do what I can't."
Gerald arrived at Daniel's office at eleven-oh-three.
He was wearing a grey jacket and carrying a leather portfolio, which he set on the chair beside him when he sat down — the same chair he always used in board meetings, Daniel noticed.
Habit.
"You look tired," Gerald said.
"I didn't sleep much." Daniel set a single page on the desk between them.
It was the conference photograph — Sophia, Marcus, and in the background, slightly out of focus but identifiable, Gerald Foss.
"I want to give you the opportunity to explain this before I say anything else."
Gerald looked at the photograph.
His expression didn't change in any dramatic way.
It was more like watching something drain slowly out of a container.
"Where did you get this?" he asked.
"From a man whose life your associates dismantled three years before they started on mine."
Gerald set his portfolio on the desk.
He didn't open it.
He looked at Daniel for a long moment.
"I introduced you to Sophia," he said finally.
"That's true."
"Was it arranged?"
A pause that lasted too long.
"I was asked to make the introduction.
I was told it was a social favor for a mutual connection."
"And the mutual connection was Marcus Webb.
Whose real name is Michael Reeves."
Gerald's jaw tightened.
"Did you know what they were planning?" Daniel asked.
"Not the full scope.
Not at first." He stopped.
"Later — yes.
I knew more than I should have and I said nothing." He looked at his hands.
"I told myself it wasn't my business.
That you were a grown man who could look after himself."
"I trusted you.
You sat in my boardroom and you knew."
"I know."
"You introduced me to the woman who was planning to take apart everything I've built."
"I know, Daniel." Gerald's voice was quiet but it didn't shake.
"I'm not going to sit here and tell you I had no choice.
I had a choice.
I made the wrong one."
Daniel stood up.
He walked to the window and stood with his back to the room.
"I want your resignation from the board by end of business today," he said.
"I want it in writing, citing personal reasons, with no conditions.
If it isn't on James Whitfield's desk by five o'clock, I hand your name to the financial crimes unit along with everything else."
Gerald didn't argue.
He opened his portfolio, uncapped a pen, and wrote four sentences on a sheet of paper.
He signed it, dated it, and placed it on Daniel's desk.
He picked up his leather portfolio and stood.
"For what it's worth," Gerald said, "I am sorry."
Daniel didn't turn from the window.
The office door opened and closed.
Daniel stood at the glass for a long time after that, looking out over the city — the buildings he'd spent fifteen years building a company to afford a view of.
Then he picked up his phone and called James.
"Gerald Foss just resigned from the board," he said.
"I have his written resignation in front of me.
Add his name to the filing."
"Understood," James said.
"Daniel — the financial crimes unit called this morning.
They want to speak with you directly.
They've had a file open on Michael Reeves for fourteen months."
Daniel's hand tightened on the phone.
"They already knew about him?"
"They've been building a case.
Your situation — and Richard Calloway's documentation — may be exactly what they need to move forward."
Outside the window, the city went on as it always did.
Indifferent.
May you like
Unhurried.
"Set up the meeting," Daniel said.
