27. The Price of Truth
27
THE PRICE OF TRUTH
ALEX
"Your board's full of shit," Connor drops a thick folder on the Apex Club's private dining table. Seattle's December snow falls steadily outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, but up here on the thirtieth floor, we're insulated from everything except my spectacular fuck-up. "Legal action? While your stock's up twenty percent since she started?"
"Twenty-three," I correct automatically.
It’s only been three days since the gala, since Mac’s betrayal. But getting my life back on board hasn’t even been close to easy.
In the wake of me having to reveal Mackenzie’s identity to them, at last, I thought I would feel vindicated. Avenged. Or, at least, relief.
Instead, all I feel is numb.
I drain what’s left of my drink as Connor and Grayson watch me, my fingers swiping through my gray-streaked strands that are already in desperate need of a cut.
"Yeah, that's not helping your 'I'm totally over her' case." Connor signals the bartender. "Three of the good stuff. The really good stuff."
"I'm handling it."
"You're brooding," Grayson doesn't look up from his laptop. "While your stock soars and Keith teaches the development team something called 'Love's Corporate Lament' in four-part harmony."
My phone lights up -
Emma: Keith now has the accounting department doing jazz hands while singing about trust issues.
"Shit," I rub my eyes. "How many departments has he recruited?"
“From what Emma insinuated when I asked, HR stopped counting after Legal joined for the chorus." Connor passes me a scotch that probably costs more than my first car. "But that's not why we're here."
"No?"
"Nope." Grayson turns his laptop around. "We're here because you should see what your corporate culture consultant was writing three years ago. Right after Roberto."
The name hits harder than it should. "Her ex?"
"The one currently engaged to his twenty-eight-year-old former 'mentee'?" Connor's voice could freeze vodka. "That Roberto."
Something cold settles in my chest. "What?"
"Katie Acosta.” Grayson scrolls through data. "Daughter of venture capitalist James Acosta. Started as Roberto's protégé while he was still married to Mac. Real piece of work, this guy."
"His company bio's better." Connor taps his screen. "Claims he 'mentored several successful women in tech, including prominent corporate culture critic Mackenzie Gallo.' Guy's got bigger balls than brains."
The scotch burns going down. "He's taking credit for her success? "
"While his own company tanks." Grayson's typing gets more aggressive. "Can't adapt to modern corporate culture. You know, the same culture his ex-wife is famous for revolutionizing?"
"But that's not the best part." Connor pulls up an article. "Check out when Mac's blog posts about toxic leadership started. Same week she caught them in his office."
The glass creaks in my hand. "She what?"
"Christ, you really didn't read her early posts." Connor turns his tablet. "Here - three years ago, day after she found them:"
@MizzByteMyAlgos: "When male leaders say they 'support strong women,' what they mean is 'as long as you stay conveniently beneath me.' Both professionally and literally. #CorporateLies #TrustNo1"
"Jesus." The scotch isn't nearly strong enough. "Why didn't she say anything?"
"To who?" Grayson's voice cuts sharp. "The last successful man she trusted was screwing his intern and stealing her ideas. Real confidence builder."
"That's different?—"
"Yeah, it is." Connor drains his glass. "You just accused her of betrayal while she was actively making your company better. Much more efficient."
"Screw you, Con. Now’s not the time.”
"Numbers don't lie," Grayson shoves a spreadsheet at me. "Twenty-three percent market increase since she started. Meanwhile, Roberto's department's bleeding talent faster than Keith can write protest songs."
My phone buzzes again -
Emma: Revolutionary choir has added interpretive dance to their performance. HR concerned but impressed by coordination.
"Look at this." Connor scrolls to another post from three years ago. "The day Roberto moved out:"
@MizzByteMyAlgos: "Corporate leaders preach trust while building walls. Demand loyalty while betraying it. Choose power over connection because vulnerability means risk. And risk means weakness. #WallsUp #TrustNoOne"
"Sound familiar?" Grayson's watching me too closely. "Building walls instead of bridges? Choosing control over connection?"
"I get it."
"Do you?” Connor leans forward. “I hate to be the biggest prick in the room...”
Gray scoffs. “No, you don’t.”
“No, I don’t. But, A-dog…From from where I'm sitting, you're doing exactly what that ex-husband did. Just with better suits and more musical numbers."
Through the windows, Seattle glitters under fresh snow, completely indifferent to my emotional crisis.
My father's text hits right on cue: Saw the board's demands. Smart choice. Can't let emotion cloud business judgment. Just like I taught you after your mother ? —
I close it before he can finish. Before he can remind me how walls keep you safe. How trust is weakness. How love destroys everything it touches.
"Here's the thing," Grayson closes his laptop. "Mac's posts changed after she met you. Less rage, more... hope. Probably the first time since this ex of hers that she actually believed change was possible."
"She wrote an exposé?—"
"That she didn't publish." Connor cuts in. "While actively improving your company. Meanwhile, old cradle robber’s over there, taking credit for her success while his business tanks without her innovation."
My phone lights up - Mac's latest post:
"TECH TRUTH: Sometimes the biggest walls aren't in corporate culture, but in the hearts claiming to change it. Sometimes the hardest trust to earn isn't with others, but with ourselves. #StillLearning #StillHoping"
"Three hundred forty-two posts about toxic leadership." Grayson gathers his things. "One about love being worth the risk. Guess which ones came after you?"
They leave me there with scotch and revelations and all the walls I built thinking they were protection.
When really, they were just another way to stay alone.
Emma's final update hits: Keith's latest song making board members cry. In a good way. Mostly.
I look at Mac's posts again - at her journey from anger to hope, from protection to possibility. At the way her words changed after we met, even if neither of us could trust it yet.
At the walls we both built thinking they would keep us safe.
When really, they just kept us apart.
Through the windows, Seattle's snow continues falling, transforming everything into something new. Something possible.
Something worth the risk.
Just like Mac wrote about.
Just like I might be ready to believe.