Chapter 12 - The Man Offering Grant a Second Chance
Grant forwarded Nolan Pierce’s email at 8:12 Tuesday morning.
By 8:20, Maya had instructed both of us not to respond.
By 9:05, she had found something that made the situation worse.
Nolan Pierce was not merely a consultant for Crossway Distribution.
He was Crossway’s senior vice president for strategic development.
He had worked there for eleven years.
His message to Grant was polite enough to look harmless.
Nolan said Crossway was considering expanding its regional sales team. He had heard Grant possessed valuable experience and believed “past misunderstandings should not permanently limit a talented executive.”
Then came the real reason for the message.
Crossway was conducting “industry diligence” concerning companies participating in the Sunridge procurement process.
Would Grant be willing to discuss the circumstances under which Lauren Hayes obtained her original Whitmore opportunity?
The final paragraph mentioned compensation.
Not directly for information.
That would have been too obvious.
Instead, Nolan suggested that a regional leadership position might become available after they spoke.
Maya read it twice.
“That is either extremely careless,” she said, “or he assumes Grant is desperate.”
Grant sat across from us in Maya’s conference room.
He looked uncomfortable wearing the same work polo he used at the industrial supplier.
A year earlier, he would have arrived in a suit.
A year earlier, he would have cared more about how the room measured him.
Now he looked tired.
“He assumed correctly,” Grant said.
I turned toward him.
He rubbed his hands together.
“My company cut commissions last month. Rent went up. I’m still making the repayment.”
There was no accusation in the last sentence.
Just fact.
“For about thirty seconds,” he continued, “I wanted that job.”
I appreciated the honesty more than I wanted to.
“What changed?” Maya asked.
Grant looked at me.
“I imagined having to explain it to Caleb and Oliver someday.”
That landed harder than anything else.
Maya asked him to describe the phone call that followed the email.
Grant had returned Nolan’s call because he initially believed the job opportunity was genuine.
According to Grant, Nolan asked increasingly specific questions.
Had Lauren known Adrian Whitmore socially before the pilot?
Had Adrian ever visited Lauren’s apartment?
Had Grant suspected an affair during the marriage?
Grant told him no.
Then Nolan changed direction.
“He asked whether I believed Lauren was capable of using relationships to get ahead.”
I almost laughed.
Not because it was funny.
Because that sentence sounded like something the old Grant might have happily answered.
“What did you say?”
“That I was the one who lied about the house.”
The room went quiet.
Grant stared at the conference table.
“I told him whatever story he thought I could give him, I wasn’t interested.”
Maya leaned back.
“And then?”
“He said everybody has a price.”
I watched Grant’s face.
“What did you say?”
“I told him mine used to be cheaper than I realized.”
That was probably the most honest sentence Grant Mercer had ever spoken.
Maya requested permission to preserve his phone records and messages.
Grant agreed.
Before leaving, he stopped beside my chair.
“You don’t have to thank me.”
“I wasn’t going to.”
A small smile crossed his face.
“Fair.”
Then he left.
That afternoon, Sunridge’s compliance review began.
Hannah Cole sat with two attorneys and a risk officer. They asked how Adrian and I met.
I answered.
They asked when we began dating.
I answered.
They asked whether he participated in the decision to award my original pilot.
“No.”
“Did he introduce the proposal?”
“Yes.”
“Did you disclose your former husband’s employment?”
“Immediately after I learned Adrian was CEO.”
They already had supporting records.
The questions continued for ninety minutes.
I felt exposed.
Not guilty.
There was a difference.
Near the end, Hannah closed her folder.
“We received an anonymous packet.”
My stomach tightened.
“What kind?”
“Photographs. Social-media captures. Copies of your early proposal.”
I frowned.
“My proposal?”
“One page included comments suggesting Mr. Whitmore coached you before submission.”
“That didn’t happen.”
“We know the document has problems.”
“What problems?”
She pushed a copy across the table.
The page looked almost identical to my original proposal.
Almost.
There was a handwritten note in the margin.
A.W. — revise pricing before committee.
I stared at it.
“That isn’t Adrian’s handwriting.”
“We haven’t concluded whose handwriting it is.”
I examined the page again.
Then something else caught my attention.
A sentence in the third paragraph.
The wording was wrong.
Not dramatically.
Just enough.
My original version said, “Missed windows increase customer uncertainty.”
This version said, “Failed windows create customer dissatisfaction.”
I remembered because Dennis had mocked the phrase “customer uncertainty” during our first week.
“That isn’t my proposal,” I said.
Hannah’s expression changed.
“It’s close.”
“It’s a copy of a later draft.”
“How can you tell?”
“Because I rewrote that section after riding with drivers.”
I looked at the page number.
Then the date printed at the bottom.
The date was three weeks earlier than the revision had actually existed.
Somebody had built evidence backward.
I felt the first spark of something stronger than fear.
“Maya needs this.”
“We’ll provide it through counsel.”
When I walked outside, Adrian was waiting across the parking lot.
Not near the entrance.
Not trying to enter the meeting.
Just waiting.
I crossed toward him.
“How bad?”
“Somebody forged a version of my proposal.”
His face hardened.
“Do they believe it?”
“Not yet.”
He opened the passenger door.
I didn’t get inside immediately.
“Adrian.”
“Yes?”
“I’m staying in the Sunridge process.”
He nodded.
“Good.”
“Even if this gets uglier.”
Another nod.
I studied him.
“You really aren’t going to tell me to walk away?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because somebody threatened your children to make you smaller.”
May you like
His voice remained calm.
“And I think they should discover that was a very poor strategy.”
