Chapter Twenty-four #3
Charlie moved next to Harper and tried to put her arm around her, but Harper shook her off, spinning to look at her. “The thing is, when you just take the payout and don’t do anything, people can die.”
“That seems a little extreme, doesn’t it?
We’re talking about potentially overvaluing a series of new securities that are only open to sophisticated investors.
Maybe some of them paid too much, which is horrible and gross, but it isn’t like that could actually kill someone or even rob someone of their entire life savings.
” She reached for Harper’s hand, but Harper took a step back and shook her off.
Tears were building in her eyes, and she needed to get Charlie out of there. “That’s the thing, though. You can’t know that. One action can have a ripple effect. Your company, D. B. Graves—”
“My ex-company. I don’t work there anymore.”
Harper shook her head in disgust. “It isn’t like you left there for some principled reason.
They fired you to cover up the truth, and you let them buy you.
But sure, if it makes you feel better, your ex-company has a private equity arm that acquired the majority stake in a company that produces train car chassis.
About six years ago, they discovered an issue with a mechanical component in the chassis of certain commuter train cars.
Apparently, it would have cost billions of dollars if they’d owned up to it and done the recall, and after all, it had been an issue for years with no problems because it took the perfect storm of circumstances for it to malfunction.
So when someone within the organization found out, they did the same thing that you did.
Took a payout and signed a fucking NDA. But you know, on a cold, icy, February morning, the stars aligned, and an elevated train car derailed in Chicago.
The deaths of twelve people, including my wife, could have been prevented if not for fucking corporate greed and a few unprincipled people who discovered the truth and allowed themselves to be bought.
Someone like you probably tells themselves the same story you do but is the reason my wife is dead. ”
All of the color drained out of Charlie’s face.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t, I mean I just…of course I’d heard of that accident—the whole country did—but that division had nothing to do with mine, so I wasn’t really monitoring it or anything.
And I didn’t know that was the accident that killed Kelly. I am so sorry, Harper.”
Harper wanted to yell and scream and throw things.
None of this was fair. She’d finally taken a chance, opened herself up to something, and this was how it turned out.
She’d been dating—falling for—someone who’d worked for the firm responsible for Kelly’s death.
And evidently had no more moral conviction than the rest of them.
“I mean, the fact that Kelly was killed in that incident isn’t the point.
The point is that several people knew there was a problem, and all of them took a payout.
The company had to pay up, but no one was ever even prosecuted.
That attitude of not doing the right thing because it’s expensive feeds directly into not doing the right thing because they paid you not to, and it fucking sickens me.
” She rubbed circles around her temple with the fingers of one hand, trying to relieve some of the pressure building there. “I need to be alone right now.”
“I’m really sorry,” Charlie said. “I’m not the same person now that I was then. I feel like I’ve tried to explain that several times.”
“Yeah, but you didn’t really explain who you were before. And talk is cheap. Was the old you Charlotte and the new you Charlie?” Harper wasn’t sure why changing her name bugged her so much, but it really did now.
Charlie’s brows furrowed. “I went by Charlie growing up but used Charlotte professionally. But when I fled the city, going back to Charlie felt right. We talked about this months ago. I was never trying to be deceptive.”
It didn’t make Harper feel better, but at least she seemed sincere. It just hurt that Harper didn’t feel like she knew her at all. “I’m just not sure who you are anymore.”
“You do. You know the real me. I lost myself slowly at my job, but I’ve found myself again since coming here, and that is the woman you know. The person I really am.” She swiped at the tears rolling down her cheeks.
“I just…I don’t know.” Harper felt like her heart was breaking, and she needed to be alone. “Can we talk later? I need space to think right now.”
“Yes, of course. I’m sorry. I’ll go.” She reached out like she wanted to squeeze Harper’s hand but seemed to realize it wouldn’t be welcome, so she dropped her hand to her side. “I’ll see myself out.”
When Harper heard the door click closed behind her, she slid to the ground and dropped her forehead onto her knees. When Franky slid off the couch and joined her, forcing her head onto Harper’s thigh, Harper slid her fingers into Franky’s fur and finally allowed herself to cry.