Chapter 10 - The Office He BuiltMarcus was allowed into headquarters on Saturday to collect personal items.
A compliance representative had to accompany him.
I wasn’t supposed to be there.
Neither was he expecting me.
I had come to review succession files with Harrison.
When the elevator opened, Marcus stood alone near his office carrying a cardboard box.
For several seconds, neither of us spoke.
Then he looked at the empty corridor.
“This is humiliating.”
I almost said something sharp.
Instead:
“I know.”
He looked surprised.
“You do?”
“Very recently, actually.”
The gala.
Security.
Three hundred people.
Marcus looked down.
“I deserved that.”
“No.”
His head came up.
“You deserved accountability. Public humiliation isn’t a useful management tool.”
He stared at me.
“You really believe that?”
“Yes.”
“Even after what I did?”
“Yes.”
That answer seemed to hurt him.
Marcus placed the box on a desk.
“I lied about when Celeste and I started.”
“I know.”
“I was going to tell you.”
“When?”
He gave a weak laugh.
“Apparently never.”
At least honest.
“I’m sorry.”
I waited.
“For the affair?”
“Yes.”
“For the email?”
“Yes.”
“For letting people believe I supported you?”
His face tightened.
“Yes.”
He looked toward his old office.
“I told that story so many times I almost believed it.”
“What story?”
“That you never wanted anything.”
I frowned.
“You did want things. Your consulting work. Your own office. Travel.”
I remembered.
“And every time I got promoted, your life got smaller.”
He rubbed his forehead.
“I liked that you were good at everything until it made me feel less important.”
There it was.
Not Celeste.
Not work schedules.
The underlying truth.
“You rewrote that first Vantage proposal.”
“Yes.”
“My manager called me brilliant.”
“I remember.”
“I didn’t correct him.”
“No.”
“Then I kept doing it.”
“Yes.”
Marcus looked at me.
“Why did you let me?”
That question almost angered me.
Then I realized he wasn’t blaming me.
He genuinely wanted to know.
“Because I thought marriage meant sharing success.”
“And when did that stop being true?”
“When sharing became disappearing.”
Silence.
Marcus nodded.
“I’m sorry.”
This apology felt different.
Not because it fixed anything.
Because it described the correct injury.
Then he asked:
“Are you going to fire me?”
“I’m recused.”
“I know.”
“What do you want?”
His face twisted.
“To know whether you think I should be fired.”
I looked at him.
“You told a vendor to lie during a compliance review.”
“She was scared.”
“So were you.”
“Yes.”
“You failed to disclose a conflict.”
“Yes.”
“You ignored finance warnings.”
“Yes.”
I took a breath.
“But I haven’t seen evidence you stole money.”
“No.”
“Or fabricated contracts.”
“No.”
“So I think the company should judge exactly what you did.”
Marcus nodded slowly.
“Not everything else.”
“Exactly.”
His eyes filled.
“You’re giving me more fairness than I gave you.”
Maybe.
But fairness wasn’t a gift to Marcus.
May you like
It was a rule I wanted to live by.
Keep reading—because the board’s decision would disappoint everyone who expected Rebecca’s revenge story.
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