Chapter 7: Grace's Message
I excused myself after the main course.
In the restroom, I read Grace's message.
*He's been forwarding emails to a personal account for at least two years.
Gmail.
Also has screenshots stored in a cloud folder — I can see the folder exists but not the contents yet.
One more thing: he's shown them to someone else.
A contact at a financial news outlet.
No story filed yet but there's been communication.
He's been building an exit option.*
I stood at the sink and read it twice.
Jason wasn't just holding this over Daniel.
He had been preparing to use it.
The salary demand tonight wasn't greed.
It was a deadline.
Pay up, or the story goes out.
I typed back: *Can you get the Gmail account flagged for preservation?
And the name of the contact at the outlet.*
Grace replied in under a minute: *Already on it.
Name is forwarded separately.
Be careful tonight.*
I put my phone away and looked at myself in the mirror.
I had walked into this restaurant with one plan.
Grace's message gave me a second one.
I went back to the table.
Jason was talking about the company's recent growth figures.
Specific figures.
The kind you only know if you've been paying close attention to things outside your job description.
Daniel was very still.
I sat down and picked up my wine.
"Jason," I said, "I want to ask you something directly."
He turned to me with the patient expression of a man who thought he had already won.
"Have you spoken to anyone outside this table about Daniel's business affairs?"
A half-second pause.
"Of course not."
"No journalists?
No financial contacts?"
Something moved behind his eyes.
Fast.
Gone.
"I don't know what you're implying," he said.
"I'm not implying anything.
I'm asking."
"Emily." Daniel's voice was low.
A warning.
"It's a simple question," I said.
I kept my eyes on Jason.
"Because if someone were to approach a journalist with confidential company information, that would be a very different conversation than the one we're having right now.
That would move from a private arrangement into something with legal consequences for everyone involved."
Katherine set her fork down.
Jason's jaw tightened.
"You don't know what you're talking about."
"I know that forwarding confidential emails to a personal account is a breach of your employment contract," I said.
"I know that sharing them with a third party could constitute corporate espionage, depending on how a lawyer chose to frame it.
And I know that attempting to extract money under threat of disclosure has a specific legal name."
The table was very quiet.
"You've been doing your homework," Jason said.
His voice had changed.
The ease was gone.
"I have," I said.
He leaned forward.
"Then you also know that what Daniel did was illegal.
That if I go to the right people—"
"Daniel is going to the right people first," I said.
"On Monday morning.
With full documentation and a lawyer present.
Voluntary disclosure.
Whatever consequences come from that, we'll face them." I looked at him steadily.
"But what you've been doing for three years — the emails, the cloud storage, the contact at the outlet — that's a separate matter.
And it doesn't disappear just because Daniel has a problem too."
Jason stared at me.
Katherine pushed her chair back slightly from the table.
"You came here tonight to raise your price," I said.
"I'm telling you the price has already been paid.
Just not to you."
Jason's hand was flat on the table.
He didn't move it.
"This isn't over," he said quietly.
"It is for tonight," I said.
May you like
I folded my napkin and set it beside my plate.
"Shall we get the check?"
