Chapter 4 - I STOPPED PROTECTING HIM
I didn’t sleep.
At 6:12 the next morning, I emailed our compliance director.
I kept it short.
I may have discovered unauthorized personal use of a document containing donor-related information that I printed at home. I need guidance immediately.
At 6:19, she called me.
Her name was Nora Patel.
Nora did not panic.
That was one reason she was good at her job.
“Tell me exactly what happened.”
I did.
Every detail.
Graham’s request.
My refusal.
The scanned seating chart.
The handwritten notes.
The planned January dinner.
When I finished, Nora was silent.
Then she said, “Do not delete anything.”
“I won’t.”
“Do not confront him about the scan yet.”
“I already confronted him about having a list.”
“Does he know you found the document?”
“No.”
“Good.”
That word made me feel sick.
“Am I in trouble?”
“Right now, you’re reporting a potential exposure. That matters.”
“I brought the document home.”
“Were you allowed to?”
“Yes. We were working remote that week.”
“Did you provide it to him?”
“No.”
“Then let us investigate.”
Us.
Not me.
For the first time in forty-eight hours, I felt like someone had placed solid ground beneath my feet.
At 8:03, Cynthia called.
I let it ring.
At 8:05, she called again.
At 8:09, a text appeared.
Graham told me you threw him out over Thanksgiving. We need to talk.
I typed:
No, we don’t.
She replied immediately.
This has gone far enough.
I stared at that sentence.
Then turned off notifications.
At work, Nora met me in a private conference room with the foundation’s general counsel.
They asked questions for almost an hour.
Had Graham ever used my work computer?
No.
Did he know my passwords?
Not that I knew.
Had I ever left printed donor documents unattended at home?
Yes.
Because I had believed my home was safe.
That answer hurt more than I expected.
At the end, counsel said, “We’re going to document this. If the information came from a permitted work copy that was accessed by someone in your household without authorization, that is different from you intentionally sharing it.”
“Could I lose my job?”
“We’re not making assumptions.”
That was not an answer.
My throat tightened.
Because Graham’s ambition had now reached into the one part of my life I had built completely on my own.
At 12:41, another message arrived.
Graham.
We need to stop escalating this.
I ignored it.
Then:
Richard is already asking questions.
Good, I thought.
Then:
Please don’t say anything to him until I explain.
That one I answered.
Explain what?
His reply took almost five minutes.
It’s more complicated than you think.
I stared at those words.
Then my office phone rang.
Nora.
“Elise, come downstairs.”
Her tone had changed.
“What happened?”
“We pulled the building visitor records.”
My stomach tightened.
“What visitor records?”
“From the night of the Whitmore Gala setup.”
I stood.
Nora continued.
“Your husband was here.”
My blood went cold.
“No. He wasn’t.”
May you like
“Yes,” she said quietly.
“And according to security, he wasn’t alone.”
