I shook my head.
“Be careful with Sylvain,” Carmen said, finally straightening. “Black hair, shaved sides, long on top. He’s chief account officer or some shit. Nepotism hire. Curt’s little spawn.”
“Careful how?”
She pursed her lips, arms tightening across her chest. Her boots scuffed the floor as she shifted on her feet. “He went to Stevenson. When you graduated, it became his little playground.” A shaky exhale slipped out before she caught it. “He made dumping sweaty water and jockstraps on girls look like an affectionate hug.”
The moths scratched at my insides again; guilt and shame simmering inside me in equal measure ‘til anger took over, burning straight up my spine. “Did he hurt people?”
Carmen snapped her head up, curls swaying. “Silas might be on your side,” she said too quickly. “He’s the managing director. He… mostly knows when things aren’t fair.”
“Carmen,” I pressed, my voice low, heavy, “did either of them hurt you?”
Her brown eyes hardened to glass, her shoulders going square. “That’s none of your business.”
“It is,” I said, heat rising to my throat. “If either of them did what I used to do?—”
“Don’t,” she snapped, shoving off the wall. Color had risen high in her cheeks, her nostrils flared and fight burned with glowing embers in the brown of her irises. “I’m not a damsel in distress like you seem to think Nina is. I don’t need a savior, Carter. I can right my own wrongs. Thanks.”
She turned on her heel, steps echoing down the hall, a sharp sound that thudded in my chest.
I almost called after her. Her accusation was heavy on my shoulders. But that wasn’t who I was, not anymore, and it wasn’t important if Carmen knew it or not. Then the door opened behind me, and by the time I looked back at her, Carmen washalfway to the corner, nearly to the small windowless office that used to be Nina’s.
As I entered the room, I spotted Curt. He sat at the head of the table, spine straight, salt-and-pepper hair sharp, his smile too polished to be anything but a warning. Beside him lounged Sylvain. He looked exactly the way Carmen described him, achieving that perfect middle ground between dedication and indifference. Silas sat on the other side, his name and title showing on a badge hanging from his neck, all quiet steel and coiled patience—the only one in the room who carried the poise of having earned his chair.
The boardroom itself was all glass and angles, floor-to-ceiling windows letting in the foggy city light, making the polished table gleam. Two other execs whispered near the end, the finance guy rubbed his temple, an admission this whole thing was already working its way towards a migraine, and Irma’s eyes, only person in HR, flicked between Curt and Silas, sensing the next storm brewing. I stayed back near the wall, arms crossed, feeling like a trespasser.
Curt opened his mouth, annoyance bleeding in his tone. “Rumors about the circumstances of your promotion have been brought to our attention.”
We’re diving straight in, then.My stomach tightened, my throat tensing until it was almost uncontrollable. I didn’t even feel the inkling to prevent it from snapping. “There were no rumors.”
Irma pushed her glasses up. “Mr. Carter, we understand how deeply upsetting these words may be to you. Here at Dupont Digital Dynamics, we take pride in curating a friendly, cohesive workingenvironment, and this slander doesn’t align with those goals. We want you to know we’re taking the ill-intent behind this talkvery seriously.”
These motherfuckers.As if all I cared about was my nameplate on a different door. I fisted my hands behind my back.
“It isn’t slander if what’s being said is true,” I said, voice low and sharp enough to slice through the room’s fake calm. Every pair of eyes turned toward me. Good—let them.
Silas leaned forward and clasped his hands together. The executives in the room all but rolled their eyes at me. Sylvain actually cackled.
Curt leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers as if his words were gospel. “Look, let’s not turn this into a witch hunt,” he said, voice smooth enough to be insulting. “Blowing this out of proportion helps no one. The client’s happy, the numbers look good. That’s what matters.”
“What matters is that Natasha took it upon herself to delete Nina Reyes’s work. And I swept it under the rug,” I seethed. “A capable employee lost her job and benefits because Natasha Dabrowski couldn’t keep her personal interests out of the office.”
Curt’s jaw ticked, and his fingers drummed on the table, then stilled. “This is still purely speculative,” he said, voice a shade too tight. “Your word against hers, and she’s already given a very convincing explanation.”
“Her word against mine, my ass,” I said, pushing off the wall. I slid the USB drive across the table. It held everything Carmen had gathered on Natasha’s meddling with Nina’s files, and it came to rest against Curt’s old, worn fingers.
Curt’s smile didn’t waver, but I could hear the steel under it. “Look, Carter, there’s no need to escalate. These things happen. Natasha made a mistake, it’s been addressed internally.”
“Internally?” I barked out a laugh. “She tried to bury someone’s career. That’s not a mistake—that’s sabotage.”
Sylvain leaned back in his chair, all lazy arrogance. “You’re being dramatic. No one’s career is over. That girl will bounce back.”
I snapped my gaze to him, heat licking up the back of my neck. “Thatgirl shouldn’t need to ‘bounce back.’” I leaned over the table. “She needs the truth out there so she’s not branded a liability in the marketing business for the next five years.” I smacked the table with my open palm. Irma, from HR, was the only one to flinch. “She’s also being sought out by clients from this very firm as an independent contractor. Check out the attrition rates. Carmen Camacho has been trying to flag this for the past ten weeks.”
Curt’s voice stayed maddeningly calm. “We have a responsibility to protect everyone involved. Publicly sharing this only creates noise… and risk.”
“Risk for who?” I stood to my full height. “The company? Or Natasha’s spotless little reputation?”
