73. Chapter Seventy-Three
Chapter Seventy-Three
Kat
I’d quickly changed shirts and hugged Violet, thanking her profusely, and promised to look her up. I would, for sure. From Africa, or wherever. You know, if I ever had internet.
I was scurrying toward Basti’s office from the back of the paddock, avoiding all of the people I didn’t want to see, when I heard a horrifying sound from behind me.
“Gatita! Gatita, wait!”
I ran.
I was knocking on Basti’s door, slightly out of breath but on time, not two minutes later. He pulled open the door, and I searched for signs of my impending execution or salvation on his face, but he was as impassive as always.
Jerk.
I entered the room and found Tim’s eyes next. HIS told me everything I needed know.
Maybe I wanted Basti back.
Because Tim’s sad, frantic eyes told me everything I had been hoping to avoid was already unavoidable.
And the last man in the room was the only one I didn’t know, and the only one that mattered. He was sitting behind Basti’s desk in a move that I KNEW was making Basti itch. That made me smile on the inside just the tiniest bit.
“Ms. Brooks,” the slightly overweight, slightly balding man said from behind the desk, not bothering to stand, not bothering to offer a hand in greeting.
That boded well.
Especially after being fawned over by him via Basti not even a week ago.
His well-weathered face was almost as impassive as Basti’s. There was more showing there, but it was all cold disdain.
“Mr. Corning, I presume?” I asked after nodding in confirmation that he had the right death row inmate.
“I was expecting… more. Did you not think it important to clean up for a meeting with us?” he asked sharply. The fire in my chest that was usually a bed of coals roared into an inferno. It had been merrily flickering away since last night, but now I could barely see over it.
“I had in fact been cleaned up, but a fan tripped and spilled their soda on me. A friend was kind enough to help me get changed before heading in here,” I said as coolly as I could. He just shook his head. Surprisingly, Basti spoke up.
“And I believe Kat has worked through the night twice in the last three days to push through more of her updates,” he stated, no challenge or threat in his voice, even as his intent was clear. Thanks, bro.
Save yourself, though, honestly.
“As that may be, we still have some things to discuss. I assume you know why you’re here, Ms. Brooks?” our not-so-benevolent overlord asked.
Hmm.
He had to be proposing, right? He was so in love with my work that he just HAD to have me?
His money would make up for his looks and the age gap and his lack of personality?
I needed to find a way to let him down easy.
I didn’t say anything, but I nodded slowly.
“Well, I’m just going to cut right to the chase. You have been the center of some very distasteful media lately. And we simply cannot have that. We are a wholesome, family team,” he started. I felt my hand curl into a fist, the plexi-cast cutting painfully into my hand.
“And to be completely honest, we can’t have this type of thing happening.
Maybe these kinds of sexual deal-based scenarios fly with some of the other teams, but this is why your morality clause was included.
So, we’ll be breaking the contract based on that clause,” he continued.
I grit my teeth. I needed to calm down. And to wait.
Because I did still want something from him.
“Do you have any questions, or can I have Tim escort you to wipe your devices?” he asked smoothly. Evenly. Calmly. Like he wasn’t ruining my career, my life, my reputation, all in one sentence.
“I do, actually,” I said very, very calmly. If I checked, my fingernails were probably slicing into my palm. He waited. Good.
“Keep the contract. Just don’t keep me,” I said simply. He leaned forward. I knew he would. He wanted this software.
“I’m listening,” he said carefully, giving nothing more away. Too bad for him, he’d already given plenty. I crossed one leg over the other and laid out my offer carefully.
“I have stepped down as CEO of my company, and handed over all stake in it as well. I will not be connected to or participating in anything at that company ever again. Keep the software. Keep the contract. Take my Head of Acquisitions in my stead, Allen. HE will get everything completed in a timely manner. Keep the software,” I stated firmly, trying not to cry.
That was the first time I’d said it out loud.
None of it was mine anymore.
Nothing was.
“Why?” he asked slowly. He looked like he was trying to find the trick, the loophole, whatever it was I was aiming for.
“Simple. You keep the contract, other companies follow suit. Projections show that a lot of people at my company keep their jobs. And most importantly, my software WORKS, sir. You wouldn’t have approached me otherwise.
And no matter what the narrative says, no matter what narrative you decide to confirm, you DID approach me.
So, keep it. Let it keep your drivers safe.
Let it help you win championships,” I stated simply.
He looked at me for a long time. I was starting to fear I’d misread his interest. Not in me, obviously. That was a joke. But in my software. In what it had to offer. I hoped he was smart enough to see what it could truly do.
But then he nodded.
Once.
“Okay. Follow Tim to wipe your computer and hand in your paddock pass, and I’ll send over the amended contract for your new CEO to sign,” he accepted.
And just like that.
It was over.
It was all over.
“Kat, don’t do this,” Tim said quietly as I turned my laptop toward him to do as he pleased. I shrugged. I couldn’t let any of it out. None of it. Not until after.
After getting out of this garage.
After avoiding Milo, Andy… Henry.
After watching the race from the stands because I couldn’t leave until it was over.
Until he was safe.
Or the vise surrounding my chest would never loosen.
“I’M not doing anything, Tim. Surely, you know that,” I said bitterly.
“Exactly. You’re not DOING anything, Kat. You could easily fight this!” he insisted. I shook my head vehemently.
“No, Tim. You don’t understand. This WAS me fighting. Fighting for twelve thousand jobs. Fighting for all the people that NEED this software. ALL of them,” I said, starting out fierce and ending soft. Too soft. He knew what I was saying.
He sighed and wiped my computer of proprietary team information in less than five minutes. And turned to let me go. But not before pulling me into a hug. I froze. Until he let go.
I handed him my paddock pass.
Grabbed my bag.
And walked out of the garage for the last time.