Silence.
“Before or after you slept with her,” Mark presses.
I don’t answer.
Alex sits back. “You didn’t want to risk losing her.”
“And instead,” Mark says quietly, “you guaranteed it.”
My phone vibrates again. I glance down this time.
PR:
We need confirmation on whether the woman referenced last night was an employee or guest. Media is digging.
My stomach drops.
“No,” I say immediately. “Absolutely not.”
Alex watches me carefully. “What.”
“They’re fishing,” I say. “Trying to attach a name.”
Mark’s jaw tightens. “Audra.”
“Yes,” I say. “And it’s not happening.”
I stand and start pacing, adrenaline finally cutting through the shame.
“She is not part of this,” I say. “She didn’t do anything wrong. She didn’t ask for any of it.”
“And the board?” Mark asks. “They push?”
“They can push all they want,” I say. “She’s off-limits.”
Alex arches a brow. “Congratulations. You’ve identified the bare minimum.”
I ignore him and start typing.
Me:
She is not to be named, referenced, speculated about, or approached. She is not an employee involved in misconduct. Shut it down.
Another message comes in.
Legal:
We can try, but?—
“I don’t care,” I snap, already typing. “You make it airtight. If this turns into collateral damage, I’m done.”
Mark studies me. “This doesn’t fix what you did.”
“I know,” I say. My voice breaks slightly on the word. “But I’m not letting her get dragged into this. Not after?—”
Not after I already made her feel small.
Alex stands. “Good. Because if her name shows up anywhere, this conversation gets a lot uglier.”
