Chapter 31 Nico
Nico
Monday morning. My office at Rossi Industries. Ten AM.
I barely slept last night.
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw her face. Tear-stained. Broken. Telling me about the man who destroyed her career because she had the audacity to say no.
Dr. Lawrence Kendrick.
Through the glass wall of my office, I can see Bree at her desk. She’s focused on her computer. but she looks tired.
I reach for the smart glass control panel and press the button. The transparent walls cloud to opaque white.
Larissa arrives first. Sharp gray suit, hair pulled back, already in lawyer mode.
Callahan follows three minutes later. He’s in his usual plainclothes detail uniform. There’s nothing casual about his posture. Former Secret Service guys never really turn off.
Callahan closes the door behind him.
I study them a moment. Larissa has her tablet out. She’s already prepared something. Callahan’s posture is different than usual, more protective than tactical.
“Before we begin,” I say. “This conversation doesn’t leave this room.”
Larissa sets down her tablet. “I found three firms that specialize in Title IX institutional investigations. Sentinel Strategic Intelligence has the strongest track record for university misconduct cases.” She pauses. “I assume this involves someone at Columbia?”
She talked to Callahan.
I nod. “It does.”
Callahan shifts in his seat. “Preliminary background on Dr. Kendrick shows a clean public record. Tenure track since 2015, full professor 2018. Published author. Sits on several nonprofit boards. Married. No criminal history, no civil suits. But that’s just the surface.”
My jaw tightens. “I need deeper than surface. I need to know if there are patterns of harassment. Inappropriate behavior between a teacher and his students. And I need it done quietly enough that he doesn’t know anyone’s looking until it’s too late.
Hire a PI if you have to. Multiple PIs. At my expense. ”
“Sentinel uses their own investigators.” Larissa’s expression shifts from professional to concerned. “But sir, institutional investigations of this nature... they’re difficult to keep contained once they start. Especially if there are multiple victims. People talk.”
“Then we move fast,” I counter.
She still seems hesitant.
“Look.” I force myself to keep my voice level. “This fucker destroyed a woman’s career because she said no to him. I need to know if he’s done this before. And I need it done quietly. That’s all there is to it.”
Callahan’s jaw tightens. He has daughters. I knew he’d understand.
“Does this woman know you’re pursuing this?” Larissa asks carefully.
I meet her eyes. “No. And she won’t. Not until it’s done.”
“Nico.” Larissa uses my first name, which she almost never does. “If this is someone close to you, acting without her consent could seriously damage that relationship. Trust is difficult to rebuild once broken.”
I think about Bree’s face last night. The way she made me promise not to do anything. The way I lied to her without hesitation. But then I think of how broken she was, and my resolve only hardens.
That fucker is going to pay.
“I’m aware of the risks,” I reply.
“And you want to proceed anyway?” Larissa presses.
“Absolutely,” I say firmly.
Larissa exchanges a look with Callahan. Then she seems to reach a decision.
“Sentinel will require a retainer of two hundred fifty thousand,” she says.
“They’ll want to know why we’re asking and what we intend to do with their findings.
I can position this as due diligence for a potential hire or partnership, but if they uncover actionable evidence of ongoing misconduct, they’ll likely report to the university’s Title IX office regardless of our wishes. ”
“Good,” I say. “I want him reported. I want every victim he’s ever touched to know someone finally looked. But I want to control the timing.”
“I’ll set the process in motion,” she tells me.
Callahan speaks up. “Sir, if you want this contained, I recommend we coordinate with Sentinel’s security team. Universities can be... territorial about their reputations. If Kendrick has institutional protection, there may be pushback. Attempts to discredit the investigation or the investigators.”
“Handle it,” I tell him. “Whatever protection the investigators need. Whatever evidence preservation is required. I want this airtight.”
He nods. “Yes, sir.”
They get up to leave. “Callahan, stay a moment.”
He stays while Larissa closes the door behind him.
“When you coordinate with Sentinel, there’s only one rule,” I tell him.
“My secretary is to be left out of all communications. Sentinel will want to contact former students and potential witnesses for information. That’s fine.
But Bree Dawson is not to be contacted for any reason.
I want her left out of all the investigations. Is that clear?”
“Completely understood,” Callahan replies.
When he’s gone, I don’t clear the privacy setting.
I sit in the silence of my office and think about what I’m doing.
Bree trusted me with her most painful secret. She asked me to respect her boundaries. And I’m about to bulldoze through those boundaries because I’ve decided I know better.
Part of me knows this is wrong.
The rest of me doesn’t give a damn.
Because the alternative is letting that fucker continue to destroy women like he destroyed her.
And that’s something I can’t live with.
She’ll understand.
She’ll forgive me.
My desk phone rings. I pick up. Bree’s voice: “Mr. Rossi? Your eleven o’clock is in fifteen minutes. Did you want me to push it back?”
I press the button. The glass clears to transparent.
She’s seated at her desk, every inch the competent secretary. But her eyes search my face with an intimacy that has nothing to do with work.
She’s worried.
About me.
About what just happened behind the opaque walls.
“No,” I tell her. “Keep the schedule as is.”
“Okay.” She doesn’t move. “Is everything... is everything all right?”
The lie comes easily. “Just some legal housekeeping. Nothing you need to worry about.”
She nods. Doesn’t quite believe me.
But she’s learning that sometimes my walls go up and there’s nothing she can do but wait for me to let her back in.
The first update from Sentinel comes at the end of week one. Two former students with similar stories. Both complained through official channels. Both were silenced with NDAs.
By week two, they’ve found four more. Six women total. Three formal complaints buried by the university. Email evidence from two victims showing Kendrick’s grooming patterns. A faculty member who suspected but stayed quiet because tenure matters more than doing the right thing.
The parallels to Bree’s story are sickening. The special attention. The isolation from other mentors. The boundary violations disguised as mentorship. The retaliation when women tried to escape.
He’s been doing this for over a decade.
The university knew and did nothing.
Larissa coordinates with Tanner and Associates, an employment law firm that specializes in Title IX cases.
They file coordinated complaints on behalf of the victims willing to go on record.
They send legal threat letters to Columbia’s General Counsel outlining the pattern and institutional liability.
I apply pressure where I can. My foundation was planning education grants that Columbia wanted. Suddenly those grants are under review. Donors who trust my judgment start asking questions about the university’s oversight.
It’s ugly. The kind of power play I promised myself I’d never use again after the blackmail incident with Dom.
But this is different. This isn’t about controlling someone’s love life out of jealousy and unprocessed trauma. This is about stopping a predator.
Week three.
Three weeks of Sentinel’s investigators digging through Columbia’s records. Three weeks of former students being quietly contacted. Three weeks of building a case that will bring a predator down.
Three weeks of lying to Bree’s face.
We’ve been... surprisingly good. Opening up about Kendrick got her out of her funk. She no longer seems distracted and distant. She comes to the penthouse every night. Sleeps in my bed. Laughs at my terrible jokes and makes her own. Leaves her toothbrush in my bathroom like it belongs there.
Which it does.
She belongs with me.
Still... every time she asks if I’m okay, I lie. Every time she catches me checking my phone, I tell her it’s work. Every time she falls asleep in my arms after sex and I lie awake thinking about the investigation, I’m betraying the trust she’s placed in me.
I tell myself it’s worth it. That she’ll understand when it’s over. That protecting her is more important than respecting her explicit wishes.
I tell myself a lot of things.
Thursday morning of week three, Larissa walks into my office.
“It’s done,” she says. “Columbia revoked Kendrick’s tenure yesterday. Immediate termination for cause. Settlement agreements with known victims are being negotiated. They’re releasing a public statement about zero tolerance policies.”
I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding.
“The Chronicle of Higher Education is also running a story tomorrow.” She sets a printed draft on my desk. “Background only. Your name won’t appear. Nor anyone linked to you.” By that she means Bree.
I look at the headline. “Prominent Professor Fired After Pattern of Harassment Uncovered.”
It’s over.
The fucker is finished.
He’ll never teach again.
Never groom another student.
Never destroy another career.
I did that.
I stopped the fuck.
And now I have to tell Bree.
She’s going to find out soon enough. The story runs tomorrow. Even if she doesn’t see it herself, someone will tell her. A former classmate will reach out.
She needs to hear it from me first. She needs to know what I did. Why I did it.
But as I sit there in my office, looking at her working peacefully at her desk, I realize I have no fucking idea how I’m going to tell her.
No fucking idea at all.
It might be easier just to let the shit hit the fan and deal with the aftermath.
Maybe I’ll just do that.
Fuck.
Fuck.
Fuck.
I’m so screwed.