Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 61440 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 307(@200wpm)___ 246(@250wpm)___ 205(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61440 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 307(@200wpm)___ 246(@250wpm)___ 205(@300wpm)
I hum in mock thoughtfulness. “Unless you’re asking me to do your work for you, right? The way you did on my first day in the office, when you thought I’d be an easy mark?”
Blair’s blue eyes narrow into frosty slits. “You don’t want to start this with me, Webb. I’m not the kind of enemy you can afford to make. Between your whiplash-inducing fast-tracking and the gaps in your resume, I already have enough red flags to recommend a review of your work history. Keep pushing and I’ll put the review wheels in motion, and you can be damned sure I’ll find a dismissal-worthy offense.” Then, in a voice so low and menacing it makes me shiver, “One way or another, I always do.”
I balk at the threat, rocking back on my heels. I haven’t been suffering from any delusions about Blair’s character, but I hadn’t considered she might falsify evidence to get rid of me.
But she would—and evidently has in the past. There’s no way I’m misinterpreting those last words.
For a moment, I’m too shocked to speak—reeling as I wonder how on earth this woman fooled Jack and Ryan into thinking she was a decent human being.
Blair takes advantage of my silence to drive her point home. “Stay out of my way, and keep your mouth shut about things that don’t concern you. Or you’ll regret it.”
“No, you’ll regret it,” I say in a quietly hostile voice I barely recognize. “I won’t be bullied, Blair. And I won’t stop standing up for people you’re steamrolling for your own selfish reasons. Get your act together and start treating people with fairness and compassion or you’ll be the one sitting in a ditch, wondering how you managed to total your once promising career.”
Her cheeks blanch before flushing redder than before. “Fine. We’ll play it your way. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
Before I can remind her this isn’t a game—people’s lives are hanging in the balance, and Lulu and her family will suffer needless hardship if Blair insists on going through with the firing—she spins on her heel and stomps away. I’m tempted to follow her and eavesdrop on her meeting with Lulu, but that’s not going to help the situation. I have to go over her head.
But first I need to make sure I have all my ducks in a row.
People like Blair may be meticulous on the outside when it comes to rules and record-keeping, and they’re experts at snowing just about everyone. But journalism has taught me one thing: no matter how good people are at covering their tracks, they always leave a paper trail. A fingerprint. Some shred of evidence ready to blow their cover wide open.
More than sabotaging her female employees with unfair hiring practices, or falsifying reasons for termination, she’s up to something nefarious, and she’s going to great lengths to throw me off her scent. I can feel it in my bones.
And I’m not going to stop until I expose her dirty secrets.
Sitting down at my desk, I log out of my company email and wait for the blank login screen to appear.
Seyfried & Holt employee emails may be monitored.
The words are there in black and white, a reminder on the screen as well as on the waivers every single employee signs upon hiring. I doubt that waiver was put in place for emergency snooping situations like this one—and Jack would almost certainly forbid it—but desperate times call for desperate investigative measures.
Sometimes it’s better to ask for forgiveness than permission. Especially if the forgiveness request is accompanied by solid evidence of employee corruption.
I pop Blair’s email alias into the login screen. It takes nearly an hour and some trolling through Blair’s social media feed for inspiration, but I finally crack her password—KateSpadeAddict1—proving she’s not nearly as clever as she thinks she is.
I’m in.
At first glance, her inbox is relatively uninspiring, but then I click over to her trash and things get more interesting. Like, emails from someone at the Department of Justice kind of interesting…
“What are you up to, Blair?” I murmur as I screenshot the email requesting a happy hour date be moved to a bar farther from the financial district, and go looking for more evidence.
I don’t have anything solid yet, but I’ve always had a good reporter’s nose and right now it smells something foul.
And where there’s stink, there’s story.
Even before Lulu is escorted out of the office with a box full of her things and her purse hitched over her shoulder, I’m determined. After seeing her devastated face and the dejected slump of her shoulders, I’m devoted.
Story or no story, I’m going to make this right.
CHAPTER 17
Jack
Day 17 Fri 8/17
Like Pavlov’s dog, I’ve come to expect the chime of a text notification at the end of a long day of work, and right on cue tonight, it hits.