Chapter 6: The Whole Board
My sister Pam picked up on the second ring.
"I need a lawyer," I said.
"Not for me.
For Ryan.
And possibly for me.
I need someone who handles employment law and I need them to be good."
Pam was quiet for exactly three seconds.
That was how long it took her to shift from sister to the version of herself that had spent twenty years as a hospital administrator and knew how to move in a crisis.
"How fast?"
"This week."
"I'll call you back in an hour."
She called back in forty minutes with a name: a man named Gerald Fitch, who had spent fifteen years in corporate litigation before moving to a smaller firm.
He could see me Thursday.
I spent Wednesday night at the kitchen table after Ryan and Mason were asleep, going through every document in the envelope.
There were eleven reports.
Ryan's signature appeared on seven of them.
Three of those signatures looked slightly different from the others — the angle of the R, the way the loop closed on the Y.
I was not a handwriting expert.
But I photographed each one carefully and noted which three looked different.
I also found something Diane hadn't mentioned.
On the fourth report, in the lower right corner of the second page, there was a small notation in handwriting that was not Ryan's and not the standard report format.
A date and a set of initials: *L.H.
— approved verbal.*
Lauren's initials.
A verbal approval that had been written in after the fact, in a different pen.
I added it to my notes.
Thursday morning I sat across from Gerald Fitch in a quiet office with wood paneling and a window that looked out onto a courtyard.
I put the envelope on his desk.
I put my phone on the desk beside it, open to the photographs.
He read for eleven minutes without speaking.
Then he looked up.
"Your husband doesn't know you're here."
"No."
"Does he know the extent of what's in these documents?"
"I don't think so.
I think he knows something is wrong but not how wrong."
Gerald tapped the edge of the envelope.
"Three of these signatures are likely forged.
The notation on page two of report four is a significant problem for Lauren, not for Ryan, if it can be shown the pen and ink are different ages." He paused.
"Where did you get these?"
"A colleague of Lauren's.
A whistleblower."
"Is she willing to go on record?"
"I believe so.
Yes."
He nodded slowly.
"Here's what I need you to understand.
If Ryan accepted the promotion knowing what Lauren had done — even partially knowing — his exposure is real.
If he was genuinely unaware and his signatures were forged, he is a victim of the same scheme.
The difference between those two things matters enormously."
"I know," I said.
"That's why I'm here before he is."
Gerald looked at me.
"You're trying to find out which one is true before you decide what to do."
"Yes."
"And if it's the first one?"
I had thought about this.
I had thought about it in the car after leaving Diane.
I had thought about it lying awake next to Ryan while he slept.
"Then I need to know that too," I said.
"Before the board does."
Gerald set down the envelope.
"I want to speak with your husband.
With his knowledge and consent.
Can you bring him in?"
"I need a few more days."
"You have until the end of next week.
After that, the timeline starts working against you."
I drove home.
Ryan was at work.
Mason was at school.
The house was quiet.
I stood in the kitchen and looked at the counter where I made coffee every morning.
The two mugs.
The same routine.
The same small ordinary life that was either exactly what I thought it was, or something else entirely.
My phone buzzed.
A text from Ryan: *Dinner tonight?
I'll cook.*
I stared at it for a long moment.
Then I typed back: *Sure.*
That evening, he made pasta.
He poured wine.
He asked Mason about football practice and laughed at something Mason said about his coach.
He refilled my glass without being asked.
I watched him across the table and tried to find the lie.
May you like
I couldn't find it.
That was the part that scared me most.
