Chapter 6: The Board Chair's Secret
Marcus called from the back seat while Lily dozed against his shoulder, her coat bunched under her cheek like a pillow.
Gerald Osei picked up before the second ring.
"I've read your email," Gerald said.
"All of it."
"Then you know what happened tonight."
"I know what you've told me happened.
I also know Harlan Voss called me eleven minutes ago."
Marcus waited.
"He told me you were attempting to extort the board using fabricated footage of his associate."
"He used the word fabricated?"
"He did."
"The video is on your phone now," Marcus said.
"You've seen it."
A silence.
Long enough that Marcus could hear Gerald breathing.
"Yes," Gerald said finally.
"I've seen it."
"Then you know it isn't fabricated."
"Marcus." Gerald's voice dropped.
"I've been on this board for nine years.
Do you know how many times Harlan Voss has been in a room I was also in?"
"I don't."
"Neither do I.
Because he's never been in the same room as me.
He works through other people.
He always has.
Tonight is the first time he's ever called my personal number directly."
Marcus understood what Gerald was telling him.
"He's scared."
"He's careful.
There's a difference." Gerald paused.
"But yes.
Something about tonight scared him."
"The video."
"The video.
And the fact that Richard Ashford apparently said what he said to you in a room full of witnesses."
Marcus hadn't thought about that.
He'd been focused on Richard's words, not on who else might have been close enough to hear them.
"Who was standing nearby?" Marcus asked.
"Three people I can name.
One of them is a partner at Calloway Finch.
One is a journalist — she covers financial regulation for the Tribune.
And one," Gerald said, "is my wife."
The car moved through the city.
Lily shifted slightly against Marcus's shoulder without waking.
"Your wife heard Richard say the bid was predetermined," Marcus said.
"She heard enough," Gerald said.
"She called me before you did." Another pause.
"Marcus, I need to ask you something directly, and I need you to answer me the same way."
"Go ahead."
"Did you know about Voss before tonight?"
"No."
"Did you have any reason to suspect the process was compromised?"
"I had doubts.
Every firm that's bid against a Voss-adjacent contract has doubts.
But no.
I had no specific knowledge."
"All right." Gerald exhaled slowly.
"Then here's what I'm going to tell you.
I'm calling an emergency board session for Monday morning.
I'm placing the Whitmore contract on hold pending a process review.
And I'm forwarding your email — and the video — to the board's independent counsel tonight."
Marcus closed his eyes for a moment.
"Voss will come after you for that," he said.
"Probably."
"Gerald—"
"I've been on this board for nine years," Gerald said again.
"And I have been careful for nine years.
Careful about what I said.
Careful about what I saw.
Careful about what I let myself know." His voice was quiet but solid.
"A man pushed a seven-year-old girl into a table tonight because her father was in the way.
I'm done being careful."
The line went quiet for a moment.
"Get some sleep," Gerald said.
"Monday is going to be a long day."
He ended the call.
Marcus sat in the dark of the back seat, his daughter breathing softly against his arm.
Outside, the city moved past the windows — lights, intersections, ordinary people going home from ordinary evenings.
His phone lit up one more time.
A text from Richard Ashford.
No greeting.
No explanation.
May you like
Just a file attachment.
And below it, three words: *You'll need this.*
