Vale Strategic Systems fought immediately.
That was their right.
They sought emergency relief.
They disputed the termination basis.
They challenged the government’s interpretation of subcontractor disclosures and testing requirements.
They argued that any inaccurate certification had been immaterial or administrative.
They alleged that I had allowed a family conflict to contaminate the process.
So my work was reviewed again.
And again.
And again.
Every review returned to the same fact.
I had disclosed my relationship.
I had requested recusal.
The government had limited my role where appropriate.
Independent officials had reviewed the final action.
The record stood on evidence, not on my opinion of Preston Vale.
That mattered to me more than revenge ever could.
Because revenge would have meant he was right.
That I had used power personally.
I had not.
I wanted him held accountable for what the record proved.
No more.
No less.
Three days after the party, Jessica came to see me.
She did not call first.
I opened my apartment door and found her standing in the hallway wearing sunglasses, although it was raining.
“Can I come in?”
I hesitated.
Then stepped aside.
She entered slowly.
My apartment disappointed my family.
I knew that.
It was clean.
Simple.
Government books and framed photographs.
A couch I had owned for nine years.
A dining table scarred along one edge from my third move.
Jessica walked toward the shelf where I kept photographs from assignments and ceremonies.
She stopped at one.
“You never showed me this.”
I looked over.
It was a photo of me receiving a promotion.
“You never asked.”
Her shoulders tightened.
For once, she did not argue.
She removed her sunglasses.
Her eyes were swollen.
“Preston says you’re destroying him.”
I leaned against the kitchen counter.
“I expected he would.”
“He says the evidence is technical.”
“Some of it is.”
“He says there was no danger.”
“I can’t discuss protected details.”
Her mouth twisted.
“Of course.”
“Jessica.”
“I’m so tired of hearing that.”
“I know.”
“No, you don’t.”
She turned toward me.
“My entire life changed in sixty seconds.”
I looked at her.
“So did mine when you threw that wine.”
She flinched.
Good.
I was done pretending cruelty disappeared because the cruel person was upset later.
“I shouldn’t have done that.”
It was the closest thing to an apology I had received.
I waited.
She swallowed.
“I thought you came there to make a point.”
“What point?”
“That you were better than us.”
“I came because I had a duty.”
“I know that now.”
I studied her face.
“Why are you here?”
She sat on the couch.
For several seconds, she stared at her hands.
Then she said, “Preston wants me to make a statement.”
“What kind?”
“That you always resented me. That you disliked him. That you threatened to interfere with his company.”
“Did I?”
“No.”
The answer came quickly.
That mattered.
“What does he want you to say exactly?”
“He has lawyers drafting it.”
I sat across from her.
“And?”
She started crying.
Quietly.
Jessica had cried in front of me many times.
As a child when she fell.
As a teenager when a boyfriend left.
As an adult when a venue canceled a fundraiser.
This was different.
She was not crying because she wanted someone to fix something.
She was crying because she was beginning to understand something could not be fixed.
“He asked me to say you told me at Christmas that people like Preston shouldn’t have government contracts.”
“Did I say that?”
“No.”
“Then don’t say it.”
“He says it could save the company.”
“By lying.”
“He says it’s about context.”
“It’s a lie.”
Her face crumpled.
“I know.”
There it was.
The first crack.
Not in Preston’s company.
In Jessica’s belief in him.
I leaned forward.
“Did he tell you why the contract was terminated?”
“He says your office overreacted.”
“That isn’t an explanation.”
“He says vendors make disclosure errors all the time.”
“Some do.”
“And testing schedules change.”
“They can.”
“And data gets moved.”
I said nothing.
She looked up.
“Why are you answering like that?”
“Because each sentence can be true independently and still hide what matters.”
She wiped her face.
“I don’t understand.”
“You don’t need classified information to ask basic questions.”
“What questions?”
“Did he certify something he knew was inaccurate?”
She went still.
“Did he tell the government one entity was doing work when another entity was actually doing it?”
She looked away.
“Did he report tests as complete if they weren’t?”
“I don’t know.”
“Then ask him.”
“He’ll say I don’t understand the business.”
“Then ask why understanding the business is necessary to answer yes or no.”
Jessica stared at me.
I watched a memory surface in her face.
“What?”
She shook her head.
“Nothing.”
“Jessica.”
She stood.
Popular Posts
→- 1
- 2
- 3
- 4
Recently Viewed
Stories you read recently will appear here.
