Chapter 2 - THE EMPTY CHAIR IN BOSTON
The first person I called was not my mother.
It was our company's chief operating officer, Evelyn Hart.
“Sloan?” she answered. “Aren't you on the train?”
“No.”
A pause.
“Is everything all right?”
“Personally? No. Professionally, I need to discuss the Boston presentation.”
Evelyn was silent.
I continued.
“I won't be traveling with Donovan today. I can join remotely or take a later train. The final pricing model is on my laptop.”
“Why aren't you traveling with him?”
I looked toward the departure board.
“Because I chose not to.”
Evelyn didn't push.
She had worked with me for six years and knew I rarely made impulsive decisions.
“All right,” she said. “Join the eleven-thirty preparation call remotely. We'll figure out the rest.”
I thanked her.
Then I found a coffee shop outside the station, ordered the largest tea on the menu, and sat down.
My phone began ringing.
Donovan.
Then again.
Then Juliet.
Then Donovan's mother.
I turned it face down.
At 10:17, a message arrived from our project analyst, Priya Nair.
Sloan, are you okay? Donovan says you had some kind of episode on the train.
I stared at the words.
An episode.
Not a disagreement.
Not a broken engagement.
An episode.
I called Priya.
She answered immediately.
“Thank God. What's happening?”
“What exactly did Donovan tell everyone?”
Priya hesitated.
“He said you became emotional because Juliet needed your seat, then got off the train.”
“Anything else?”
“He said you've been under a lot of pressure with the wedding.”
I closed my eyes.
There it was.
The first revision of the story.
“Priya, I left because my fiancé publicly humiliated me and then tried to make me feel unreasonable for objecting.”
“Oh.”
“I'm not asking you to take sides. I just don't want my personal decision described as a medical or emotional crisis.”
“I understand.”
Then Priya lowered her voice.
“There's something else.”
I sat straighter.
“What?”
“Donovan told Juliet she'd be presenting your section of the proposal.”
I looked at my laptop.
“My section?”
“The commercial strategy.”
“That isn't possible. She doesn't have the financial model.”
Priya hesitated.
“He said he sent her everything last night.”
I stopped breathing.
The model wasn't just a spreadsheet.
It contained six months of work, confidential client assumptions, and a pricing structure I had personally developed.
“Priya,” I said carefully, “did he send her the controlled version?”
“I don't know.”
I opened my laptop.
My access log showed a document download at 12:14 a.m.
Someone had accessed the final Boston pricing workbook using a shared project account.
I had been asleep.
At 12:14, Donovan had texted me good night.
I stared at the screen.
Then opened the version history.
A new file had appeared.
BOSTON FINAL – JH PRESENTATION.
May you like
And beneath the title, where my name should have been, was another.
Prepared by Juliet Hayes.
