Chapter 7: What Camila Knew
I arrived the next morning at seven-fifteen.
Sofia was already at her desk in the outer office — she had been quietly reassigned there the previous afternoon, a move Diane had handled without fanfare.
Camila's workstation sat empty, her personal items still in place, the white ceramic watch nowhere to be seen.
At eight o'clock, Camila walked in.
She stopped when she saw Sofia.
Then she saw me standing in the doorway of my office and her expression reset into something practiced and hard.
"I'd like a word," I said.
She walked past Sofia without looking at her and came to the door.
"I heard there was some kind of audit yesterday."
"Come in and close the door."
She did.
She didn't sit.
She stood in the center of the room with her arms loose at her sides, her chin level, wearing the same composure she had worn in the elevator — the composure of someone who had never been held accountable for anything in this building.
"The watch," I said.
"Alexander told me last night it was his decision.
That you weren't involved in the legal strategy."
"Then we don't have a problem."
"The apartment on East 79th Street is in your name.
The car is registered to you.
The payments are documented." I sat down.
"Those are company funds.
That makes you a recipient of misappropriated assets, regardless of whose idea it was."
Her jaw tightened.
"I didn't ask for any of it."
"That's possible.
It's also not a legal defense."
"What do you want from me?"
"The truth," I said.
"Not for the audit — Warren has everything he needs.
For me.
Personally." I looked at her.
"How long?"
She was quiet for a moment.
Then: "Two years."
"Did you know about the separation filing?"
"He told me it was in progress."
"Did you know he was using company funds to pay for it?"
A pause.
Shorter than the last one.
"I knew he had resources."
"That's not an answer."
"I didn't ask where the money came from." She looked at the window.
"I know how that sounds."
"It sounds like what it is." I kept my voice level.
"Here is what happens next.
The board convenes this morning.
The audit findings go to them in full.
Alexander's position as Chairman will be reviewed — that is not my decision, it's theirs, but the documentation is thorough." I set my hands flat on the desk.
"As for you — the company will seek recovery of the misappropriated funds.
Whether that becomes a legal matter or is resolved through a separation agreement with repayment terms is something Warren will discuss with your attorney."
Camila's composure held, but only just.
Something moved under the surface of it — not remorse, exactly, but the first real awareness that the ground had shifted and she had not moved with it.
"You're not going to fire me yourself," she said.
"You're going to let the process do it."
"The process exists for a reason."
She looked at me for a long moment.
"You're nothing like I thought you were."
"I know," I said.
"That was your first mistake too."
She picked up her bag from the chair where she had set it.
At the door she paused, and for a moment I thought she might say something worth hearing.
Instead she straightened her shoulders, the way people do when they are deciding to be proud of something they should not be proud of, and walked out.
Through the glass wall I watched her cross the outer office.
She didn't look at Sofia.
Sofia kept her eyes on her screen until her sister was gone.
Then she looked up at me through the glass.
I gave her a small nod.
She looked back at her screen.
Her shoulders dropped about half an inch — not much, but enough.
At nine-fifteen, Warren called.
"Board is assembled.
They've reviewed the audit summary." A pause.
"Elena, they want you in the room."
"I'll be there in five minutes," I said.
I picked up the printed email from my desk — the one Sofia had pressed into my hand twenty-six hours ago — and folded it once, cleanly, and placed it in my jacket pocket.
Not as evidence.
May you like
Warren had the evidence.
I carried it for a different reason, one I couldn't fully name, except that it had been the moment everything became clear, and some moments deserve to be carried a little longer before you set them down.
