Chapter 7 - The Woman in the Red Coat
Camille had been barred from contacting my children, but she was not finished. She appeared outside a fundraiser wearing a red coat and told cameras that I had manipulated the court through wealth and intimidation. Her accusations spread across social media before dinner.
I watched the clip in Evelyn's office. Every instinct urged me to answer publicly. Evelyn recommended restraint. “The case is in court. We respond there.”
Then a second video appeared, showing me leaving the docks with blood on my cuff the night Naomi confronted me. It was edited to imply I had returned home from assaulting an innocent man. The truth was complicated: a negotiation had turned violent, and I had intervened when a guard was injured. I had still chosen to be present in that world.
“I can't keep pretending my business is clean,” I told Evelyn.
“No,” she said. “You can't.”
She explained that cooperation with investigators would require full disclosure and independent legal advice. I could not purchase absolution by helping in one case. I might face consequences for my own conduct.
That evening, I met Victor and my legitimate operations directors. I announced an independent audit, the suspension of contracts tied to Patrick, and a plan to separate lawful logistics operations from any criminal activity. Some men looked relieved. Others looked at me as though I had signed my own death warrant.
Victor waited until the room emptied. “You know what this means.”
“Yes.”
“Some people won't follow you.”
“Then they leave.”
He nodded slowly. “I'll help keep the employees safe while the transition happens.”
At home, Naomi found me staring at Isabella's photograph. She asked whether I regretted my decision.
“I regret needing my children to suffer before I made it.”
“You can't change what you missed,” she said. “You can change what you do next.”
We had begun talking differently in recent weeks. Not as employer and employee, not quite as friends, but as two people who had survived the same storm from opposite sides of the house. I admired her courage. I also understood that gratitude was not permission to demand more from her.
“Naomi,” I said, “when this ends, you don't owe my family another day of work.”
She smiled sadly. “I know.”
The next morning Daniel called Evelyn with urgent news. He had identified a payment made forty-eight hours before Isabella’s crash. The recipient was a company controlled by the missing truck driver's cousin. Attached to the payment was a coded invoice that matched an entry in Arthur's calendar.
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The entry contained two words: Winter clearance.
And the meeting listed beside it had included Camille Sloane.
