Chapter 101 Vindication
Harper's POV,
Maya went into the GM's office at 9 AM with a folder full of evidence and came out at 11:30 looking like she'd been put through a shredder.
I'd been waiting in the Starbucks across the street, too anxious to go home, too pregnant to drink actual coffee. When she walked in, I stood up immediately.
"What happened?"
"Sit down. I need caffeine before I can talk about this." She ordered an espresso, drank it in three gulps, then ordered another. "Okay. Here's what happened."
We moved to a corner table away from other people.
"Robert Chen has been investigating Garrett for six weeks. Apparently, three different staff members filed complaints about him—asking inappropriate questions, being in places he shouldn't be, generally giving everyone bad vibes. Chen started watching him. Had IT monitor his computer activity."
"And?"
"And they found that Garrett has been accessing files he shouldn't have access to. Contract information. Injury reports. Strategic planning documents. All stuff way above his pay grade. But he was clever about it—used other people's login credentials when they left their computers unlocked."
"Like yours."
"Exactly like mine. IT found that my computer was accessed seventeen times in the past two months during periods when I was provably in meetings or out of the office. Security footage shows Garrett entering my office during those times."
I felt something release in my chest. "So they have proof."
"They have proof he accessed my computer. They have proof he was gathering confidential information. What they don't have is direct proof he sent those specific emails to Jennifer Mills." She finished her second espresso. "But Chen said the circumstantial evidence is overwhelming. Timeline matches. Access matches. Motive matches. Garrett wanted my job and thought if I was fired for leaking information, he'd be promoted."
"What happens now?"
"Garrett's being fired. Effective immediately. The team's legal department is preparing to sue him for breach of contract and NDA violations. And my suspension is being lifted. I'm back at work Monday with a formal apology from the organization."
"Oh my god. Maya. That's—you're cleared."
"I'm cleared." She started crying. Right there in Starbucks, not even trying to hide it. "Harper, I thought my career was over. I thought I'd have to leave Vancouver, go back to Seattle, start over. And now—"
I moved to her side of the table, hugged her while she sobbed into my shoulder.
"It's over," I said. "You're okay. You kept your job."
"Because you helped. You and Crew. If you hadn't believed me, if you hadn't helped gather evidence, if Crew hadn't talked to the players—Harper, I'd be unemployed right now."
"You'd have figured it out on your own."
"I wouldn't have. I was too panicked. Too close to it. I needed you." She pulled back, wiping her face. "Thank you. I know I keep saying it but I mean it. Thank you for showing up. For believing me when the evidence looked bad."
"That's what family does."
My phone buzzed. Text from Crew: How'd it go?
I replied: She's cleared. Garrett's fired. Maya has her job back.
THANK GOD. Tell her I'm buying celebratory drinks tonight. Non-alcoholic for you obviously.
I showed Maya the text. She laughed through tears. "Your husband is relentlessly wholesome."
"He's in recovery. Wholesome is his brand now."
"I need to call Simone. She's been losing her mind waiting for news." Maya stood up. "And Harper? I know you have clients this afternoon. Go to work. I'm fine. Better than fine. I'm vindicated."
\---
That evening, we had a small celebration at our apartment. Maya, Simone, Crew, and me. Thai food and champagne for them, sparkling cider for me, toasting Maya's vindication.
"To Harper and Crew," Maya said, raising her glass. "For being the kind of friends who show up at midnight and don't stop fighting until the problem is solved."
"To Maya," Crew countered. "For not being a person who leaks confidential information and makes our lives easier."
"I can't believe Garrett actually thought he'd get away with it," Simone said. "Like, using someone's unlocked computer to send incriminating emails? That's such a basic mistake."
"He probably thought no one would question it. I had access. I had opportunity. The emails came from my account. Why would anyone look deeper?" Maya shook her head. "If it weren't for you guys, they wouldn't have."
"What happens to him now?" I asked. "Beyond getting fired?"
"Legal is pursuing a lawsuit. He violated his NDA, accessed confidential information, damaged the organization's reputation. He's looking at serious consequences." Maya took a sip of champagne. "Part of me feels bad. His career is destroyed. He'll never work in sports PR again."
"He did that to himself," Crew said. "He tried to destroy your career to advance his own. That's not someone who deserves sympathy."
"I know. But still. He's twenty-eight. His entire professional life is over because he made a series of terrible choices."
"That's what happens when you try to frame someone for something they didn't do," Simone said firmly. "Play stupid games, win stupid prizes."
We talked until midnight. About Maya's reinstatement. About the official apology she'd be receiving. About how the PR department would function now that they'd lost their assistant director.
"Chen offered me a raise," Maya said. "Compensation for the stress and public embarrassment. Five thousand more annually."
"That's it?" I asked. "You were suspended for two weeks. You could have lost everything. And they're offering five thousand dollars?"
"I negotiated. Got it up to ten thousand plus an extra week of vacation." Maya grinned. "I'm not above leveraging trauma for financial gain."
"That's my girl," Simone said, kissing her.
After they left, Crew and I cleaned up in comfortable silence.
"That could have gone so much worse," I said, loading the dishwasher.
"But it didn't. Because you helped her. Because we showed up."
"We got lucky. If Chen hadn't already been investigating Garrett, if IT hadn't been monitoring his activity—Maya would be unemployed right now."
"But he was investigating. IT was monitoring. Sometimes things work out." He grabbed my hand. "Harper, you can't save everyone. But you helped save Maya. That counts."
"I know. I just—what if next time we're not lucky? What if next time someone we love needs help and we can't provide it?"
"Then we do what we can and hope it's enough. That's all anyone can do."
I put my hand on my stomach, now starting to show a small bump. "I want to protect everyone. You. Maya. This baby. But I can't. And that terrifies me."
"Welcome to parenthood. Constant terror that something will hurt the people you love and you won't be able to stop it." He put his hand over mine. "But blob, your mom's going to try anyway. She's going to exhaust herself trying to fix everyone's problems while growing you. So cut her some slack, okay?"
"Stop talking to my stomach."
"Someone has to. You're too busy catastrophizing."
We went to bed early, both exhausted from two weeks of stress. In the dark, Crew said, "Seven months and two days sober. First major crisis where I didn't think about using once."
"Not once?"
"Well, maybe once. For like five seconds. But then I called David and it passed."
"That's huge."
"It's a day. Just like every other day." He paused. "Except it's not. Because I helped Maya without falling apart. I showed up for someone else's crisis and stayed sober through it. That's new."
"You've been showing up for people's crises since I met you. That's not new."
"I used to show up while actively using. Or thinking about using. Or planning my next use. This time I just... showed up. Sober. Present. Actually useful."
I turned to face him in the dark. "You've always been useful."
"I've always been functional. There's a difference." He pulled me closer. "But Harper, for the first time, I feel like I'm actually living instead of just surviving. Like I'm participating in my life instead of watching it happen."
"That's what seven months sober looks like."
"I guess it is."
We fell asleep holding each other, both of us thinking about Maya's vindication, about showing up for people we loved, about the fact that sometimes—not always, but sometimes—things worked out.
The next morning, I woke up to a text from Maya.
Back in the office. Everyone's being weird and apologetic. Chen personally apologized in front of the entire PR department. It's awkward but satisfying. Thank you again for everything. You and Crew literally saved my career. I owe you both for life.
I showed Crew the text.
"We didn't save her career. We just helped her prove she wasn't guilty. She saved her own career by not actually leaking information."
"You're really bad at accepting gratitude."
"I'm realistic about what we did versus what she needed."
"You showed up. That's what she needed. And that's what we did." I kissed him. "Now get up. You have morning skate. I have clients. Blob needs us to be productive members of society."
"Blob needs us to sleep more."
"Blob doesn't get a vote."
We got ready for the day. Crew to practice. Me to the clinic. Both of us settling back into normal routines after two weeks of chaos.
At the clinic, James greeted me with coffee—decaf, he'd learned—and an updated schedule.
"Patricia Chen rescheduled for Thursday. The marathon runner canceled. And you have a new client referral from Dr. Yoon. Pregnant athlete with pelvic pain. Thought you'd be perfect for it."
"Dr. Yoon is sending me pregnant clients now?"
"Apparently you're the pregnant physical therapist who gets it. Word spreads."
I spent the morning treating clients, thinking about Maya's vindication, about how close she'd come to losing everything over false accusations.
Between sessions, I called my mom.
"How's the baby?" she asked immediately.
"Baby's fine. I'm fine. We just had drama with Maya that got resolved. Everything's back to normal."
"Drama?"
So I told her. The false accusations. The investigation. The evidence gathering. Maya's reinstatement.
"Harper, you're sixteen weeks pregnant. You shouldn't be involving yourself in workplace investigations."
"Maya needed help. I helped. The baby is fine."
"But you need to take care of yourself. You can't save everyone."
"That's what Crew said."
"Then listen to your husband. He's smarter than you give him credit for."
After we hung up, I sat in my office thinking about that. About trying to save everyone. About exhausting myself fixing other people's problems while growing a human.
Maybe everyone was right. Maybe I needed to learn when to step back.
But not yet.
For now, I'd keep showing up.