Chapter 35
Chapter Thirty-Five
DEREK
The notice comes flagged urgent.
Not dramatic—those never are—but precise enough to demand attention. One of the subsidiary companies. Midwest division. A mid-level hire whose background check cleared on paper but not in practice.
Name: Ethan Rowley
Position: Operations Analyst
Issue: falsified employment history. A gap disguised as consulting. It wasn’t consulting.
It’s exactly the kind of thing Audra oversees.
I grab the folder and leave my office without calling ahead. There’s no reason to. This is routine. Clean. Process-driven.
Her door is open.
Her office is empty.
That stops me.
Not sharply. Just enough to register.
Audra’s office is never empty during core hours—not unless she’s in a meeting or across the hall mediating something that should have been handled before it reached her desk. I glance at the clock.
Late morning.
I step inside anyway. The space looks the same—order intact, desk clear, no personal clutter beyond what she allows. The absence feels louder because of it.
I frown.
Then I hear it.
Laughter.
Not hers.
Alex’s voice carries first—animated, unfiltered. Karl’s follows, lower, dry, clearly indulging him.
I step back into the hall and follow the sound.
They’re in Karl’s temporary office. Alex is leaned back in a chair, feet hooked on the edge of Karl’s desk like he owns the place. Karl stands with his sleeves rolled up, flipping through a file with exaggerated seriousness.
Alex spots me immediately.
“Oh good,” he says, rubbing his hands together. “An audience.”
Karl looks up. “This is about Rowley, isn’t it.”
“Yes,” I say. Then, “Where’s Audra.”
The air shifts—not dramatically, just enough to notice.
Karl answers without hesitation. “She’s out.”
Alex grins. “Vacation.”
I wait.
Neither of them fills the silence.
“How long,” I ask.
Karl shrugs. “Couple days.”
“Where.”
Alex’s grin widens. “Not your business.”
I look at Karl.
He doesn’t contradict that.
Something tightens in my chest—not jealousy. Displacement. The unfamiliar sensation of not having access in my own building.
I set the folder on Karl’s desk.
“Employee falsified his background,” I say. “This should have been caught before onboarding. It wasn’t.”
Karl opens it, scanning fast. “Halcyon Systems,” he murmurs. “Six months omitted.”
“Our favorite competitor,” Alex says, delighted.
“He didn’t forget it,” I say. “He concealed it. He applied for a role with access to internal projections, vendor contracts, acquisition modeling.”
Karl’s jaw tightens. “He’s had eyes on everything.”
“For a few days,” I say. “Which is long enough.”
Alex sits forward, practically vibrating. “Oh, I love these.”
“You enjoy interrogations far too much,” I say.
“They’re not interrogations,” Alex replies cheerfully. “They’re clarifications under pressure.”
Karl closes the file. “I’ll coordinate with Legal. Lock his access immediately.”
“I’ve already alerted IT,” I say. “He’s yours.”
Alex pushes to his feet. “I’ll handle the conversation.”
“Of course you will.”
He beams. “I’m thinking… controlled burn. Gentle questions. Then we see where he cracks.”
Karl exhales. “You’re an HR nightmare.”
Alex smiles wider. “I prefer mad scientist.”
I don’t smile—but something settles into place.
“This doesn’t leave this room,” I say. “No speculation. No chatter.”
“Understood,” Karl says immediately.
Alex gives a mock salute. “Your secrets are safe with us.”
I turn to leave.
As I step back into the hallway, I pass Mark’s office.
The door is open.
Inside—on the credenza by the window—is a bouquet.
Not subtle. Thoughtful. Deliberate.
I slow without meaning to.
Mark looks up, catches my glance, grins. “Don’t ask.”
I keep walking.
At Shannon’s desk, there’s another arrangement. Softer this time. Lighter colors. A card tucked beneath the ribbon.
She notices me noticing.
Her smile is knowing. Almost gentle.
I don’t stop.
By the time I reach Jamie’s desk, I already know what I’ll see.
And there it is—front and center, impossible to miss.
Bright. A statement arrangement.
The card is propped against the vase in large block lettering.
THESE ARE FROM AUDRA.
BE JEALOUS.
I stop.
For a beat, I just stand there.
Then—against my will—I huff out a quiet laugh.
Of course she would do that.
Jamie doesn’t look up. Doesn’t acknowledge me. Which somehow makes it worse. And better.
I realize then what I’ve missed.
Everyone got flowers.
Everyone but me.
Not an oversight. Not an accident.
A line.
They weren’t favors. Or apologies. Or performances.
They were acknowledgments.
She saw them. Thought of them. Took care.
I walk past Jamie without a word.
Back in my office, I close the door and stand there longer than necessary.
Safe.
That’s the word that cuts deepest.
Since when am I not safe in my own company?
Not threatened—challenged.
Not exposed—unbalanced.
I straighten my jacket and move to my desk.
Enough cowering in shame.
Enough mistaking restraint for disappearance.
I don’t get to undo what I did.
But I do get to decide who I am from this moment forward.
And I am still Derek Pierce.
Not because of my title.
Not because people defer.
Because I remember how to hold a line—and this time, I hold it without hiding behind it.
From now on, I act like it.
Every room.
Every decision.
Every silence that matters.
Not to prove anything to her.
Not to deny that I’m fallible.
But because this is who I am—unapologetically.
And I won’t let anyone, including myself, forget it.