Chapter 7: The Board Room
Gerald Marsh sat at the head of the table with the expression of a man who had hoped to manage this quietly and was now accepting that he could not.
To his left was Patricia Osei, the ethics chair, with a printed copy of Marcus's report in front of her.
To his right was a senior partner named Callum Reid who had known Dominic longer than I had been at the firm and was not bothering to hide which side of the table he was on emotionally.
Dominic was not present.
That told me his own attorney had advised him to stay away, which meant he had already retained one, which meant he had known last night that this was serious.
Marcus was at the far end of the table.
He nodded once when I sat down.
"Vincent," Gerald began, "the board has reviewed the materials Marcus submitted.
We want to hear directly from you about the timeline."
"The timeline is in the edit log," I said.
"I don't have anything to add to it."
Patricia looked up from her copy.
"You were unaware of the clause when you signed the settlement?"
"I was unaware of it.
My review focused on the financial distribution and custody framework.
Section eleven was flagged as standard continuation language by the associate who summarized the document for me." I paused.
"I should have read every line myself.
I didn't.
That's on me."
Callum leaned forward.
"The associate who summarized it — that was Dominic?"
"Yes."
"So you're saying your brother summarized a document that he had also altered, in a way that ensured you wouldn't notice the alteration."
"That's what the edit log shows."
Callum sat back.
Something moved across his face that wasn't quite discomfort and wasn't quite guilt.
It was the look of a man recalibrating.
"There's also the matter of the letter," Patricia said.
"Yes."
"The letter sent to your former wife, threatening to contest your daughter's paternity if she disclosed the clause to you." Patricia set her pen down.
"That letter was written on firm letterhead."
The room went quiet.
I had not known that.
Marcus had not mentioned it, or perhaps he had not yet seen it himself.
"Sloan showed me the letter last night," I said carefully.
"I did not notice the letterhead."
Patricia turned her copy of the report around and slid a photograph across the table.
A close-up of the letter's upper corner.
The firm's logo.
The firm's address.
The firm's name, in the typeface I had approved myself when we rebranded four years ago.
"He used the firm's name to threaten her into silence," I said.
"He did," Patricia said.
Callum was very still now.
Gerald cleared his throat.
"This changes the liability exposure significantly."
"It changes everything," Patricia said.
She wasn't looking at Gerald.
She was looking at me.
"Vincent, I want you to know that the board's primary concern at this stage is making sure the affected party — your daughter's mother — has what she needs.
The insurance gap, the medical bills, the letter.
We are treating this as a firm matter, not only a personal one."
"I appreciate that," I said.
"Dominic's access was suspended at six this morning," she continued.
"We will be referring the matter to the state bar by end of day.
The DA referral is already in process through Marcus." She folded her hands.
"Is there anything else you need from us today?"
I thought about Sloan at the kitchen counter with her coffee.
Willa's appointment on Friday.
The text from the unknown number that was almost certainly Dominic's second phone.
"Make sure the letterhead issue is in the referral," I said.
"All of it.
Don't let anyone summarize it down to the clause.
The full picture needs to go to the bar."
Patricia nodded.
"It will."
I stood.
Gerald looked like he wanted to say something else, something careful and managerial about discretion and the firm's public profile.
He didn't say it.
I walked out past Marcus, who fell into step beside me in the hallway.
"The unknown number this morning," I said quietly.
"Did you trace it?"
"Prepaid," Marcus said.
"But the text was sent from a cell tower two blocks from Dominic's apartment."
"He's not done," I said.
"No," Marcus agreed.
"He isn't."
We reached the elevator.
Marcus stopped.
"There's one more thing," he said.
"Something I didn't put in the report because I wanted to tell you in person." He paused.
"The junior associate who summarized the settlement document for you.
The one you said flagged section eleven as standard language."
"Yes."
"She left the firm six weeks ago.
Voluntarily, according to HR." Marcus looked at me steadily.
"She left two weeks after Dominic sent the letter to Sloan."
The elevator arrived.
I didn't get in.
"He had help," I said.
May you like
"I think so," Marcus said.
"And I think she left because she knew what was coming."
