“Perfect,” I said, placing the empty box in the center of my desk. It sat there, a stark, hollow cube of implication. “Would you send in Arthur?”
Arthur didn’t knock. He threw the door open and strode in, closing it firmly behind him. He remained standing, looming over the desk in a way that was meant to be intimidating. His face was flushed, his eyes hard.
“Don’t think you can push me out,” he began, his voice tight with controlled rage. “I have an ironclad contract. I have protections. If you want to get rid of me, it’s going to cost this company five million dollars in severance, plus stock options.”
I didn’t look up. I picked up my pen and made a small, meaningless notation on the pad. “Is that so?”
“It is. And I will sue for wrongful termination if you try to fabricate a cause. I’ll tie this company up in litigation for years. Ashley will pull his funding before the first deposition is over.” He leaned forward, placing his palms on my desk, invading my space. “You may have won the vote, Theresa, but you haven’t won the war. I know where the bodies are buried.”
I finally stopped writing. I capped the pen with a soft click. I looked at the empty cardboard box sitting between us. Then I looked at Arthur.
With one finger, I slid the box across the polished mahogany. It made a dry rasping sound, stopping inches from his hands.
“You’re right,” I said. “I’m not firing you.”
Arthur blinked, his momentum stalling. He looked at the box, then back at me, confusion warring with his arrogance. “What is this then?”
“You’re resigning,” I continued, my voice conversational. “Effective immediately. Forfeiting all severance, all stock options, and any claim to future earnings.”
He stared at me for a beat, and then he laughed. It was a sharp, incredulous sound. “You’re delusional. Why on earth would I do that?”
I reached for the thick file on the corner of the desk. I didn’t slide it. I dropped it.
Thud.
The sound seemed to shake the room.
“Because of this.”
Arthur looked at the file. It was plain, unmarked. He looked back at me, a sneer curling his lip. “Bluffing doesn’t suit you, Theresa.”
“Open it.”
He hesitated. The silence stretched, thick and suffocating. Slowly, he reached out and flipped the cover.
I watched his eyes. I watched them scan the first page—the summary of Axiom Ventures’ “chop shop” history. I saw his brow furrow. He turned the page. The emails between him and Henry Johnson regarding the consulting fees. He turned another. The wire transfer records.
His face went from flushed to pale in three seconds.
“Keep going,” I urged gently. “The section on QuantumTech is very interesting. I believe you promised them our glucose monitoring patent for a fraction of its value. To be buried in their vault so their insulin pump sales wouldn’t suffer.”
Arthur stopped turning pages. He stared at the document, his hands beginning to tremble. “This...” His voice was a whisper. “Where did you get this?”
“Does it matter?”
“This is... this is proprietary. Private communications.” He looked up, desperation replacing the arrogance. “You can’t use this. No court will admit it.”
“You’re right,” I agreed, leaning back in my chair and crossing my arms. “It’s likely inadmissible. So I won’t be giving it to the SEC, or the DOJ, or using it in your wrongful termination suit.”
Arthur let out a breath, his shoulders sagging slightly.
“But the press?” I tilted my head. “The Wall Street Journal? The San Jose Mercury News? They don’t have rules of evidence, Arthur. They just love a good story about corporate sabotage. ‘CFO Conspires to Destroy Widow’s Company for Profit.’ It has a certain ring to it, don’t you think?”
I leaned forward, my voice dropping. “If this leaks, you will never work in this industry again. You will be a pariah. You’ll be the man who sold out his own company to a competitor.”
Arthur’s mouth opened, but no sound came out. He looked at the file, then at me, then at the empty cardboard box. The box wasn’t a suggestion. It was a mercy.
“You have fifteen minutes,” I said, checking my watch. “Fill that box with your personal effects. Leave your company badge, your keys, and your signed letter of resignation on Lisa’s desk.”
