Chapter 8 - The Price of Treachery
By two o'clock that afternoon, the news of Daniel Vance and Chloe Jenkins' disgraceful eviction had ripped through all forty-two floors of Northbridge headquarters like wildfire.
The fourteenth floor was in a state of absolute shock.
When I stepped out of the elevator to pack up my belongings from my small, windowless cubicle, the entire floor went completely quiet. Analysts who had ignored me for six months, managers who had brushed off my emails, and colleagues who had laughed at Chloe's stolen presentations were all staring at me with wide eyes, whispering behind their monitors.
"Megan?"
A young analyst named Liam, who had worked in the cubicle next to mine, stepped forward nervously. "Is it true? About Vance? And Chloe?"
"It’s true," I said, setting an empty cardboard box on my desk. "They’re gone."
Before I could pack a single notebook, the door to the fourteenth floor opened. Martin Hayes strode in, flanked by two facilities staff members.
"Ms. Carter," Martin announced politely, bowing his head with genuine respect. "Please do not pack that box. Mr. Thorne has already instructed us to transfer your personal files to the thirty-eighth floor executive suite. Your new office is ready."
The entire floor watched in stunned reverence as Martin personally picked up my laptop bag and escorted me back toward the private executive elevators.
Meanwhile, downstairs in the legal department, Elena Ramos was working with brutal efficiency.
By late afternoon, the King County Prosecutor's Office had officially accepted the criminal complaint against Daniel Vance for felony computer trespass and corporate trade secret theft. His corporate bank accounts were flagged for forensic audit, revealing three previous instances where he had solicited consulting kickbacks from third-party vendors—kickbacks that would likely result in federal wire fraud charges.
Chloe Jenkins fared no better. Her professional certifications were immediately suspended by the regional financial analytics board following Northbridge's formal ethics filing. Her mother’s family, upon learning that Chloe had disgraced them by attempting to frame the CEO's secret daughter, severed financial ties, leaving Chloe with hefty legal retainer bills and an industry reputation that was permanently toxic.
At four o'clock, Arthur came down to the thirty-eighth floor.
My new office was breathtaking. It had wide windows looking out toward the snow-capped Olympic Mountains, a sleek glass desk, and bookshelves lined with economic treatises and regional market studies.
Arthur knocked softly on the open door frame. "Mind if I come in?"
"Of course," I said, standing up.
He walked in, carrying a manila envelope. "The board unanimously approved your project lead appointment. In fact, three of our institutional investors called me personally after reviewing your encrypted proposal. They said your supply-chain architecture for small businesses is the most innovative model Northbridge has produced in five years."
"Thank you, Arthur," I said softly.
He paused, a flicker of vulnerability passing through his hazel eyes. "You don't have to call me 'Mr. Thorne' anymore, Megan. And... whenever you're ready, you don't have to call me 'Arthur' either."
I looked at him, feeling the warmth of the silver swallow against my chest.
"I need time," I admitted honestly. "Twenty-five years is a long time to grow up thinking your father didn't exist."
"You have all the time in the world," Arthur said gently, placing the manila envelope on my desk. "Inside this envelope are the flight manifests for Northbridge’s private jet at Boeing Field."
I looked at him, confused. "Flight manifests?"
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Arthur took a deep breath, his hands trembling slightly as he folded them together.
"The plane is fueled and ready on the tarmac. It's an eighty-minute flight to Spokane. If you'll let me, Megan... I want to go see your mother. I want to see Clara."
