Chapter 4 - KELLY'S COMPUTER
Kelly Rowe cried before Audrey asked the first question.
“I didn’t make it.”
“The document came from your laptop.”
“I know.”
“Was anyone else using it?”
Kelly nodded.
“Everyone.”
Her laptop had stayed docked at the front administrative desk while she was on maternity leave herself for three weeks.
That irony was almost offensive.
Temporary staff.
Brenda.
Mason.
The operations assistant.
Vendor coordinators.
All had used it at least once.
The company’s security practices were weak.
Shared passwords.
Saved browser sessions.
Electronic signature templates stored in folders.
Convenience built during small-company years had survived after the company became too large for it.
Audrey asked:
“Did you know there was an incentive plan giving you four percent?”
Kelly looked genuinely confused.
“No.”
Mason showed her.
She went pale.
“That’s not mine.”
“What do you mean?”
“The four percent.”
“Your name is there.”
“I never asked for it.”
Brenda entered the conference room then.
Nobody had invited her.
She looked exhausted.
The mark from Preston’s slap was gone.
Her anger was not.
“You brought her here?”
Audrey stood slowly.
“Don’t.”
Brenda stopped.
For the first time since the birthday party, she looked ashamed.
“I’m sorry about what I did.”
Audrey said nothing.
Brenda swallowed.
“I was wrong.”
Still silence.
Then Audrey said:
“You kicked me while I was pregnant.”
“I know.”
“And I don’t care what email you thought you saw.”
“I know.”
Then Audrey slid the fake transfer toward her.
“Did you ask Mason to process this?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I thought you signed it.”
“Did you verify with me?”
“No.”
“Why?”
Brenda’s eyes filled.
“Because I thought you were doing it behind my back.”
Again.
Expected betrayal became permission not to ask.
Audrey asked:
“Did you change my leave date?”
“No.”
“Did you know it changed?”
“Not until after it activated the management clause.”
“And you used the clause?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because Summit was pushing deadlines and you were working half days.”
“That is not sixty days unavailable.”
Brenda looked away.
“I know that now.”
Mason interrupted.
“Then tell her about Summit’s side letter.”
Brenda froze.
Audrey turned.
“What side letter?”
Brenda glared at Mason.
“You said you wouldn’t—”
“Wouldn’t what?”
Brenda sat.
“The contract has a founder-continuity condition.”
Audrey waited.
“If either founder leaves within twelve months, Summit can renegotiate pricing.”
“That sounds normal.”
“There’s more.”
Brenda slid over an unsigned draft.
If Audrey transitioned to non-operating status before closing, Brenda would receive the title:
Managing Founder.
Not extra ownership.
But sole operating authority.
Preston asked:
“And compensation?”
Brenda said nothing.
Mason answered.
“A closing bonus.”
“How much?”
“Two hundred fifty thousand.”
Audrey looked at her sister.
Brenda’s face collapsed.
“I didn’t create the fake transfer.”
“Did you want me out?”
“No.”
“Did you want the bonus?”
Brenda whispered:
“Yes.”
Then Kelly spoke from the corner.
“There’s another bonus.”
Everyone turned.
She had been staring at the Summit draft on screen.
“One million dollars.”
Audrey frowned.
“For who?”
Kelly rotated the laptop.
Success fee payable to:
ROWAN STRATEGIC ADVISORS.
No one in the room recognized the company.
Except Brenda.
She whispered:
“Oh God.”
Audrey looked at her.
“You know them?”
May you like
Brenda answered:
“I know who owns it.”
