Chapter 6: The Review
Sandra Okafor was not what I had expected.
I had imagined someone corporate and careful, someone trained to extract information while giving nothing away.
Instead, she was direct, unhurried, and precise in a way that felt almost like kindness.
We met at a quiet café near the Meridian Group offices — her suggestion.
She arrived before me, had already ordered water for the table, and stood when I came in.
She waited while I settled my crutches against the chair before she sat back down.
"Thank you for coming," she said.
"I want to be clear from the start — you are not under any kind of investigation.
Your name came up only because Harold listed you as a reference point in his initial response to our inquiry."
"What did he say about me?"
"He suggested that some of the expense irregularities may have been connected to medical costs related to your injury.
That he had used the company account in good faith to manage a difficult family period."
I looked at her.
"He used the company account for hotel stays with a coworker."
"Yes," Sandra said.
"We know that.
His explanation doesn't hold.
But I wanted you to be aware that he attempted to use your situation as cover." She paused.
"I also want to ask — did Harold ever discuss the company expense account with you directly?
Did he ever suggest it was available for personal use?"
"Never," I said.
"I didn't know it existed until two days ago."
She made a small note.
"That's consistent with what we've found."
She slid a single sheet across the table — a summary, names redacted except Harold's.
Eleven transactions over nine months.
Hotels, restaurants, a weekend booking at a coastal property three hours from the city.
The total was not a small number.
"This is the scope of what we're looking at," she said.
"I'm not asking you to respond to any of it formally today.
But I did want you to see it."
I read the sheet carefully.
My eyes stopped at the coastal booking.
A Saturday to Monday.
I remembered that weekend.
Harold had told me it was a team-building retreat.
I had been home alone with both children, my leg newly in the cast, trying to work out how to get them fed and bathed without putting weight on my foot.
"He told me that weekend was a work retreat," I said.
"It was not," Sandra said.
I put the sheet back on the table.
"What happens next?" I asked.
"The review concludes on Friday.
Harold will be formally notified of the findings and given the opportunity to respond.
Depending on his response, the matter will either be referred to the disciplinary panel or — if he accepts the findings — resolved through a negotiated exit."
"A negotiated exit," I said.
"Meaning he keeps his reputation."
Sandra looked at me carefully.
"Meaning the company avoids a prolonged process.
It is not the outcome I would personally choose." She paused.
"Which is partly why I wanted to speak with you.
If you have documentation — messages, emails, anything that speaks to the pattern of behavior — and if you chose to share it voluntarily, it would become part of the formal record.
It would make a negotiated exit significantly harder to justify."
I thought about the folded paper in my bag.
"I have a message," I said.
"Sent three weeks ago.
After he told his coworker the relationship was over."
Sandra's expression didn't change, but she set her pen down.
"Would you be willing to share it?"
I reached into my bag.
I put the paper on the table.
Sandra read it.
She read it a second time.
Then she looked up at me with the steady, careful expression of someone who has just received exactly what they needed.
"Thank you," she said.
I nodded.
She folded the paper and placed it beside her notes.
"I'll have this formally logged this afternoon.
You'll receive a copy of the intake confirmation by email." She paused.
"Claire — I want to say something outside of my official role for a moment, if that's all right."
"Go ahead."
"What he did was not a momentary lapse.
The pattern here — the expense manipulation, the timeline, the way he framed your injury as cover — this is someone who has been managing a deception carefully and deliberately for a long time." She looked at me directly.
"You deserve to have the full picture.
And now you do."
I picked up my crutches.
Outside, the afternoon was grey and still.
I stood on the pavement for a moment before calling a cab.
May you like
Harold had no idea I had just walked out of that meeting.
By Friday, he would.
