Chapter 86
Lena's POV
I stared at it for another thirty seconds—my father across a café table from a woman I didn't recognize, a manila folder bearing my name clearly visible between them. Then I closed the laptop.
Not now. Not tonight.
The Harrison case demanded immediate attention. Whatever Marcus was orchestrating in Switzerland could wait until I'd dealt with the crisis I'd inadvertently created by trusting Diana's judgment without conducting my own due diligence.
I set my phone alarm for six hours from now and forced myself toward the bedroom. My reflection in the darkened window looked hollowed out—eyes shadowed, shoulders tight with the kind of exhaustion that comes from spending a night unraveling someone else's mistakes while your own family threatens to implode an ocean away.
The bed felt too large. It always did now.
I closed my eyes and counted backward from three hundred, an old trick from law school finals. Somewhere around one-forty-seven, sleep finally came.
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The alarm cut through a dream I couldn't remember. I silenced it immediately and lay still for ten seconds, letting my mind catalog the day ahead: Diana would arrive at eight. We'd review the evidence. Then we'd decide how to walk this back without destroying what little reputation we'd managed to build.
Damage control. The phrase tasted bitter.
I was showered and dressed by seven-fifteen, makeup applied with the careful precision of someone preparing for battle. Then I went to the office
The coffee was still brewing when my phone buzzed. Diana's text was characteristically brief: [On my way. I'm sorry.]
I didn't respond. There would be time for apologies after I understood exactly what had happened.
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She arrived at eight o'clock sharp, looking like she hadn't slept at all. Her usually impeccable appearance had frayed at the edges—slight wrinkles in her blouse, makeup not quite concealing the shadows beneath her eyes, hands that couldn't seem to stay still.
"Lena." Her voice cracked slightly. "I saw the response from Reynolds."
"Sit." I gestured to the chair across from my desk.
She sat, folding her hands in her lap with visible effort. I opened the file I'd compiled during the night, spreading the documents across the desk's surface in chronological order.
"Alexander's analysis." I tapped the first document. "The text message screenshots were digitally manipulated. Font inconsistencies, metadata discrepancies, edge artifacts around the text. Created weeks after the alleged conversations."
Diana's face drained of color.
"Reddit thread from eighteen months ago." I moved to the next page. "Different city, different man, same pattern. Claire Mendoza claiming verbal promises constituted binding commitments."
"Jesus." Diana's whisper was barely audible.
"Portland Analytics Group restructuring announcement." I kept my voice level, clinical. "Claire's former employer. Layoffs were announced two weeks before she accepted the Silverton position. She didn't sacrifice her career—she jumped from a sinking ship to a 20% salary increase."
I pushed the final document forward. "Jack Harrison's travel records. During the period when Claire claims he was making promises about their future, he was in Frankfurt and London for Reynolds Industries. Ten days, then a week. The timeline doesn't just fail to match—it's impossible."
The silence stretched between us. Diana stared at the evidence, her hands now clenched so tightly her knuckles had gone white.
"I'm sorry." Her voice shook. "Lena, I'm so sorry. I was too aggressive, I didn't—"
"Tell me why." I leaned back, keeping my expression neutral. "Why did this happen?"
She opened her mouth, then closed it. Her eyes darted away, focusing on something past my shoulder. The muscle in her jaw worked as she struggled with whatever she couldn't bring herself to say.
I waited five seconds. Then I shifted approach."It's fine if you are not ready to tell me."
"How severe is the damage?" I asked instead. "What's the legal community saying about Jack Harrison?"
Diana exhaled shakily, grateful for the tactical retreat. "The law blog that ran the initial piece has gotten thousands of shares. Three other sites picked it up. Reynolds Industries' internal forums were—" She swallowed. "They were calling for his termination."
"And their response letter?"
"Devastating. Methodical. They have documentation for everything." She looked up, meeting my eyes. "They're not going to settle. They're going to destroy us if we push forward."
"We're not pushing forward." I closed the file. "We're going to fix this. But I need to understand our position first. How did Claire approach you?"
Diana straightened slightly, slipping back into professional mode as she recounted the intake meeting. I listened, watching her face as she described Claire's tears, her apparent vulnerability, her claim of financial devastation.
"She had receipts," Diana finished. "Moving costs, therapy bills. It all looked legitimate."
"The receipts probably are legitimate," I said. "But having expenses doesn't prove fraud. It just proves she moved and went to therapy."
"I should have dug deeper."
"Yes." I didn't soften it. "You should have. But now we address it. You're going to meet with Claire. Alone, no recording devices. Confront her with the evidence. See if she'll admit to fabricating the messages."
Diana's head snapped up. "You want me to—"
"Get her confession, or at least her acknowledgment that the 'promises' weren't what she claimed." I pulled out a legal pad, started outlining our strategy. "Meanwhile, I'll draft a withdrawal of the complaint and begin preliminary discussions with Reynolds' legal team about how we make this right."
"Lena." Diana's voice was thick. "You could distance yourself from this. Claim you weren't involved in the case evaluation. This was my mistake—"
"We're partners," I cut her off. "Your cases are my cases. Your mistakes are my mistakes. That's what partnership means."
Her eyes went glossy. She blinked rapidly, looking down at her hands.
"Set up the meeting with Claire," I continued, businesslike. "Today if possible. The longer this sits, the worse it gets. And Diana—" I waited until she looked up. "When you talk to her, remember that you're there for the truth. Not for her, not for Jack Harrison. Just the truth."
She nodded, standing slowly. "I won't let you down again."
"I know." I believed it. Diana had made a catastrophic error in judgment, but she wasn't careless—she was passionate, and that passion had been misdirected. We could work with that. "Call me after you meet with her. We'll decide next steps."
After she left, I sat alone in my office, staring at the closed laptop that contained Marcus's photograph. Two crises, both demanding attention. One professional, one personal. One I could control, one I probably couldn't.
One thing at a time, I told myself. Solve the problem in front of you first.
I opened my laptop and started drafting the withdrawal letter.
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