Chapter 5 - What Roman Could Not Buy
The board cleared Claire the following Wednesday.
Its written finding confirmed that the grant had been awarded through an established review process and that no evidence supported the complaint.
Elaine delivered the letter personally.
Claire read the first sentence three times.
Then she asked, “Can I go back to work?”
Elaine’s face softened.
“You never stopped.”
Outside the office, the dispatch phone rang.
A little boy needed a ride home after an appointment ran late.
Claire answered it herself.
That evening, she accepted Roman’s invitation to coffee.
Her conditions were simple.
A public place.
One hour.
No discussion of grants.
He arrived five minutes early and stood when she entered.
“Please don’t make this formal,” she said.
Roman sat immediately.
She ordered hot chocolate.
He ordered coffee.
For several minutes, they discussed the weather with the strained concentration of people negotiating a treaty.
Then Claire asked, “Why did your uncle stay?”
Roman put down his cup.
“Because he helped raise me when my father went to prison.”
“That explains loyalty.”
“It also explains bad judgment.”
She appreciated that he did not pretend those were different subjects.
“I believed keeping him inside the company made him easier to monitor,” he continued. “I should have questioned how often he used family history to avoid scrutiny.”
“What happens now?”
“He’s suspended. Outside counsel has his business records. Any evidence of wrongdoing goes where it belongs.”
“Even if it damages your company?”
“Especially then.”
Claire watched a child at the next table carefully divide a cookie between two stuffed animals.
“I can’t survive being somebody’s exception,” she said.
Roman frowned slightly.
“The one woman a dangerous man treats well while everyone else pays for it. I don’t want that story.”
His answer came slowly.
“You shouldn’t.”
The simplicity unsettled her.
Blake would have teased her for being dramatic.
Roman considered what she said.
Then took it seriously.
She looked at the scar near his jaw.
“Can I ask?”
“A loading accident. Twenty-seven stitches.”
“I expected something more mysterious.”
“A shipping pallet is rarely mysterious when it hits you.”
She laughed.
He smiled, and the severe face changed so completely that she had to glance away.
Their hour became ninety minutes.
They talked about his mother, who restored old furniture and refused to move from the house where she had raised him.
About Hannah, who taught middle school and believed every problem could be improved with a labeled storage bin.
About Claire’s daughter.
“Have you chosen a name?”
“Lucy.”
Roman repeated it quietly.
“Lucy Whitmore.”
Claire looked up.
“You assumed my last name.”
“Shouldn’t I?”
For reasons she could not have explained without crying, that mattered.
Outside, snow drifted through the light above the sidewalk.
Roman walked beside her toward Hannah’s car.
Her sister waited at the curb, ostentatiously pretending not to observe them.
Claire stopped.
“I had a good time.”
“So did I.”
“I’m still frightened.”
“Of me?”
“Of being wrong again.”
Roman considered her.
“Then we go slowly enough that you can keep checking.”
He did not ask to kiss her.
She reached for his hand instead.
It was warm.
The next morning, a local business reporter contacted the clinic about the Blackstone funds.
The trust had referred its findings to investigators.
Blake’s company had received money for services it could not document.
Several listed vendors shared mailing addresses.
One payment had moved through a property-management business connected to Ellis.
The story was larger than stolen paperwork.
By noon, Blake had called twelve times.
Claire blocked the number after preserving the messages.
At three, Tessa arrived at the clinic.
Her face was pale.
“Someone followed me from work.”
Elaine brought her inside.
They contacted the building’s security staff and reported what she had observed.
Tessa sat beside Claire in the break room, twisting a tissue.
“I thought telling the truth would make it stop.”
Claire passed her a cup of water.
“Sometimes it makes people louder first.”
“I’m sorry I helped him make you feel small.”
Claire looked at her for a long moment.
“You believed what was convenient.”
“I did.”
“That hurt.”
“I know.”
Claire did not offer instant forgiveness.
Tessa did not ask for it.
Outside the window, a clinic van pulled away carrying three families home.
Claire watched until it disappeared.
May you like
Whatever happened next, the work still mattered.
And now she had people willing to stand beside it.
