Chapter 20
The conference room at Eastmark Pharmaceutical might as well have been a trial chamber. Three executives in dark suits who looked like they'd rather be anywhere else.
I sat across from them with my purse on my lap.
"Mrs. Holmes, thank you for coming in," said the woman at the center, who'd introduced herself as Sandra Kelly, VP of Corporate Affairs.
She had the kind of professional competence that came from years of managing other people's messes.
"We understand this is a difficult time for you personally, but we needed to discuss some developments regarding your husband's... situation."
Situation.
"Before we begin," said the man to her left, whose name I'd already forgotten, "I want to assure you that Eastmark Pharmaceutical takes workplace conduct very seriously. Our employees are held to the highest ethical standards."
I almost laughed. Highest ethical standards. Brett had been screwing his subordinate while using company resources to fund their romantic getaways, but sure, let's talk about ethics.
"We've become aware," Sandra continued, consulting a folder thick enough to contain evidence of wrongdoing, "that Mr. Holmes and Ms. Crawford have been engaged in a personal relationship that violates our workplace conduct policies."
Engaged in a personal relationship. Such delicate corporate language for adultery and betrayal.
"I see," I said, though I didn't really see anything yet except three uncomfortable executives trying to manage a scandal that was probably spreading through their company faster than they could contain it.
"We understand you may have documentation that could help our internal investigation," said the third executive, a younger man who kept adjusting his tie like it was choking him. "Any evidence you could provide would be helpful in determining appropriate disciplinary action."
Documentation. Right. They wanted proof that their senior executive had been using company time and resources to conduct an affair with his legal counsel. Proof that would protect the company from liability while destroying whatever was left of Brett's professional reputation.
I pulled out my phone and showed them everything. The video from Dallas where Brett kissed Alison like she was the answer to prayers he'd been saying in secret. The photographs Randy Parker had taken of them shopping for furniture and playing house in their Manhattan apartment.
"This is very helpful," Sandra said, though she looked like someone who'd just been handed evidence of a crime she'd have to spend months cleaning up. "I can assure you that both Mr. Holmes and Ms. Crawford have been placed on administrative leave pending the outcome of our investigation."
Administrative leave. Brett was suspended from the job he'd built his entire identity around, the career he'd prioritized over his family for the past five years.
The European expansion deal he'd worked on for eighteen months was probably in jeopardy, along with every professional relationship he'd cultivated.
"How long is the investigation expected to take?" I asked.
"These matters typically require six to eight weeks for complete review," the younger executive said, still fighting with his tie. "During that time, both employees will be barred from company premises and prohibited from contacting clients or colleagues about ongoing projects."
Six to eight weeks. Long enough for whatever gossip had already started to spread through all 1,000+ employees at Eastmark Pharmaceutical, and for Brett's professional reputation to be thoroughly destroyed while he tried to explain to his children why he'd chosen an affair over his family's stability.
"Is there anything else you need from me?" I asked, standing to gather my purse and the strange sense of victory I hadn't expected to feel.
"We'll be in touch if additional questions arise during our investigation," Sandra said, standing to shake my hand with professional kindness that showed she understood I was the victim in this situation rather than a problem to be managed.
"Thank you for your cooperation, Mrs. Holmes.
We're sorry you've had to deal with this. "
I walked out of Eastmark Pharmaceutical feeling like I'd just won something I hadn't known I was competing for.
Brett's double life was finally creating consequences he couldn't control through planning and strategic deception.
The affair that was supposed to be his secret escape from domestic responsibility had become public knowledge in the one place where his reputation mattered most.
Robin was waiting in the lobby, scrolling through her phone with the patient attention of someone who'd cleared her afternoon schedule to provide moral support for whatever this meeting might reveal.
"How did it go?" she asked, standing when she saw my expression.
"Better than I hoped," I said, pushing through the glass doors toward the parking lot. "They've suspended both of them. Full investigation, company-wide scandal, the works. Brett is screwed."
"Good," Robin said fiercely, falling into step beside me. "It's about time his choices started affecting him instead of just destroying everyone else's life."
We drove to the same restaurant where I'd photographed Brett and Alison having their romantic lunch weeks ago. It felt appropriate, somehow, celebrating his professional downfall in the place where I'd first seen how happy he looked with someone who wasn't me.
"This is so much better than I imagined," I said, settling into a corner booth where we could talk without being overheard by anyone who might recognize us. "I thought the worst consequence would be awkward office dynamics. I had no idea workplace relationships violated their conduct policies."
Robin raised her wine glass. "To corporate consequences. To Brett finally facing some fallout for his betrayal."
"To having more power than I realized," I added, clinking my glass against hers.
We ordered lunch while I told her about the executives' obvious discomfort, about how they'd treated me like a valued witness rather than an inconvenient reminder of their employee's moral failures.
How they'd thanked me for my cooperation instead of suggesting I should have tried harder to save my marriage.
"Should we call Amy?" Robin asked, checking her phone. "She's been feeling off for a couple of days, but maybe good news about Brett's comeuppance will cheer her up."
I dialed Amy's number while Robin signaled for another round of wine. It was barely two o'clock, but destroying your husband's career felt like an occasion that called for day drinking.
"How are you feeling?" I asked when Amy answered on the third ring.
"Like I've been hit by a Walmart truck," she said, her tone thick with exhaustion. "I think I'm getting that flu that's been going around. Everything hurts, and I can't keep food down."
"Want us to bring you soup? We're at a restaurant celebrating Brett's professional humiliation."
Amy's laugh turned into a coughing fit that sounded painful even through the phone. "Tell me everything, but from the comfort of my own bed. I'm not fit for public consumption right now."
I gave her the abbreviated version while Robin eavesdropped shamelessly, both of us taking vindictive pleasure in the image of Brett trying to explain to his colleagues why he was suddenly persona non grata at the company where he'd been a rising star.
"That's the best news I've heard all week," Amy said when I finished. "Maybe there is justice in the world after all."
After we hung up, Robin and I spent another hour planning what other consequences might be heading Brett's way.
Professional references that would be awkward to provide.
Golf club memberships that might become uncomfortable.
Social invitations that would suddenly dry up when people realized choosing sides meant choosing between a pharmaceutical executive with a destroyed reputation and his ex-wife who'd been publicly betrayed.
"The thing is," I said, finishing my second glass of wine. "I never thought I had any power in this situation. I felt like the victim, like someone things were happening to instead of someone who could make things happen."
"You always had power," Robin said. "You just never used it because you were too busy trying to be the ideal wife to someone who didn't deserve your devotion."
The drive home took forty minutes through afternoon traffic. I thought about Brett sitting in some hotel room, suspended from his job and served with divorce papers, finally facing consequences for choices he'd probably assumed would never be discovered.
I pulled into our driveway. Kimberly's car was parked in its usual spot, which surprised me since she'd been planning to stay at school through the weekend.
I found her in the kitchen making what looked like enough lasagna to feed half the neighborhood.
"What are you doing here?" I asked, wrapping her in a hug.
"Finished my biochemistry exam this morning and decided I'd rather spend the weekend here than in my dorm room listening to my roommate fight with her boyfriend via FaceTime," she said, continuing to layer pasta and cheese.
"Besides, I figured you might want company after whatever happened at Dad's office today. "
"How did you know about that?"
"Devin mentioned it last night when I called him. Said you seemed nervous about some meeting with HR." She looked up from her cooking with eyes that saw too much, inherited from both her parents but used more wisely than either of us had managed. "How did it go?"
I told her about the suspension and the investigation while she finished assembling dinner, watching her face process the information that her father's affair had become a corporate scandal affecting over a thousand employees.
"Good," she said, sliding the lasagna into the oven. "It's about time his choices started creating problems for him instead of just destroying everyone else's life."