2-MAY
The news came that Truviv wanted to meet the next morning. A general consensus had been brewing that the depositions had not been going well. Grace received the call from Helen Yeh on her way to work. “I’m going to tell you what I think,” said Helen without introduction. “I think we need to hear them out. Find out where they’re coming from. After that, we don’t need to make any rash decisions. But, we should…”
“Listen,” Grace finished as she took the Pearl Street exit to downtown. She still hadn’t gotten used to speaking into a hands-free device, so her voice came out at a decibel closer to a yell.
“Exactly.”
Grace checked her blind spot. “Have they listened? To us?”
She turned onto Main, driving past the park, in the center of which sat a thirty-foot statue of an eyeball—most noticeable for its red capillaries and startling blue iris and the fact that it was an impossibly huge eyeball—known as the “Eye Sore.”
“I hear you, Grace, I do. But, look, my job, as your attorney, is to protect your interests. You all are lawyers, but if you were doctors, you wouldn’t perform your own heart surgery, okay?” Grace might have been a doctor were it not for all the blood. But look where she’d ended up now. “I have to advise you to do what I think will be best for you in the long run. Maybe they’re ready to drop the whole thing. We can hope. But you all are in free fall.”
So this is what Ames felt in those last few seconds, Grace thought.
Free fall.
Helen met them at the office. Twentieth floor. Grace reminded herself that it was Helen’s job to tear them down, prepare them to accept whatever was being offered to them like starving dogs. It was a classic strategy used on unsuspecting clients to make them feel as though their lawyer had gotten them a great deal. Grace ruffled at the thought of Helen having a quick “chat” on the phone with Cosette before the meeting: I think I can try to sell them on it.
Maybe Grace was being unfair. Maybe not.
She took a seat next to Ardie while what Grace had come to think of as the “usual group” gathered. “How are you doing?” she murmured. Ardie had lost at least seven pounds, by Grace’s estimation, probably without even noticing.
“Okay,” Ardie said. “I—well, I don’t know what I’m going to tell Tony, though.”
“We don’t know—” Grace started.
“Please.”
Grace didn’t have an answer. She had Liam. She was the lucky one. If she didn’t want to work, she didn’t have to. Liam had said as much the moment that Emma Kate slid out of her nether regions headfirst. In fact, he’d probably be pleased to see her home. No more washing bottles for old Liam!
Moms were only supposed to work if they needed to work. Grace knew this. That was why she’d never let on exactly how secure their finances really were. If they gave up now, Grace would be giving up her career forever. She could see the future spinning out ahead of her as she twisted the diamond ring—newly back on her finger—around and around and around.
Sloane arrived.
“Thanks for coming.” A mint bobbed on the back of Cosette’s tongue. “We’ll keep this brief. Ames is dead.” She folded her hands on the table. “We have a key witness on our side that has gone under oath stating that not only did she experience no sexual harassment at the hands of Ames Garrett or anyone else, but that the three of you harbored a personal vendetta against Ames, a sort of mob mentality stemming from a failed romance between Sloane and Ames Garrett.” Grace pictured Cosette practicing this speech in the mirror of her hotel bathroom. “Grace’s own words support the idea that he was a good, capable boss for whom she was willing to vouch. Ardie Valdez seemingly didn’t like that she wasn’t promoted in line with her colleagues. The timing of the lawsuit, on the cusp of Mr. Garrett’s ascension to CEO, was designed to effect maximum damage, to pin the company to the wall. None of these facts are good for you. Ames Garrett killed himself because of your unfounded accusations and actions.”
“You know we take issue with literally all those conclusions, right?” Sloane said.
This was what frightened Grace most: Sloane. Sloane hadn’t barreled into the room. She hadn’t made a flippant remark about running five minutes late. She sat subdued. Tranquilized.
“Noted. But Truviv is prepared to fight this one to the bitter end if need be. The shareholders, having heard the testimony and the facts of the case, are ready to back this up with a sizeable trial budget. It just makes financial sense, frankly. But here’s what I can do for you. Give up your stock options. Resign. Settle with Truviv for five million dollars to cover the cost of legal fees and reputational damage. Walk away from this and Truviv will provide letters of recommendation and sign a nondisclosure agreement prohibiting anyone at the company from speaking poorly of you either personally or professionally.”
“Five million dollars. You want us to pay you five million dollars?” Ardie scoffed. “Where do you think we would come up with five million dollars?”
Grace didn’t volunteer that she could come up with the money. If she had to. At least, her share of it, perhaps even the whole thing, but she’d have to go to her parents and, well, that wasn’t a particularly attractive option. And besides, it was the “resign” part of Cosette’s proposition that made her blood run cold. And nondisclosure agreement or not, there’d be no keeping quiet the whos, the whats, or the whys within the legal community.
The diamond ring spun and spun and spun around her finger. She had been so stupid. She would be her own undoing.
“We can set up a payment plan. If we need to negotiate on the total number of years for payment, I think that’s something I could probably sell to the board.” Cosette checked over her shoulder at the thick-bodied man, the board member from the independent review committee, and he pressed his eyes closed and frowned: Sure, sure, let’s let them have this one.
“This is vindictive,” said Sloane. “It’s extortionate.”
“No,” Cosette said, evenly. She was already placing papers back into her briefcase. “It’s preventative. The terms will be on the table until tomorrow. After which Truviv will plan to move forward with its case against you.”
It was clear that if you cut open Cosette Sharpe’s veins, you would find them crusty with freezer burn. And really, who in this room wouldn’t like to try?
The room emptied except for Grace’s team. Helen sat at the back end of the table, her mouth pursed, waiting.
“There is a special place in hell for women who don’t help other women.” Sloane ground her teeth.
“Madeleine Albright,” said Ardie.
Sloane moved to stand at the window and stared down the face of the building. “Really? I always thought it was just something Taylor Swift said to Tina Fey. But still.”
But still. Grace felt a rush of love and nostalgia for her friends. Maybe this was exactly when people felt rushes of both love and nostalgia. Necks in the guillotine, as it were.
“You would be free of the wrongful death suit.” That was just the lawsuit, though. It’d have no bearing on criminal charges. However, the optics wouldn’t hurt.
What if I love my job as much as my baby? What if I love it just a tiny bit, a tiny bit more?
Sloane spun back around. “Five million dollars, Helen.”
Helen was a small woman, a body like one of those space-saver bags, vacuum-sealed from fat. She ran insane distances on the weekends for fun. “I know that sounds like a lot of money. But for Ames Garrett, that’s actually cheap.” A sale on Ames Garrett’s life. It was their lucky, lucky day. “If you lose a wrongful death suit, you’d be on the hook for a lot more. At least—at least—three times that.”
“And Katherine?” Grace asked, trying to keep her voice neutral. Ever since she’d spoken to the police, she’d harbored a hope that they would find Katherine to be at fault for Ames’s death. Grace felt wicked, but that was the bare truth. She was further from God than she’d ever been in her life and it wouldn’t bother her if they crucified Katherine. She supposed on some level they were both Judas now.
“As I understand it, she’ll be getting a … promotion. I’m not privy to the details. Sorry.” Helen took a deep breath. “My firm says I can’t keep representing you on contingency. I’m sorry. You know I want to. But this wasn’t even what I initially signed on for.” Grace looked to Sloane for some reaction, but Sloane’s face shut down. “Honestly, I seriously doubt that any other high-level employment firm in town is going to want to grind through this volume of work for free.”
No one said anything. It turned into the longest silence that Grace had possibly ever experienced with her two friends, who also happened to be the smartest and most capable women she knew. But in the end, it wasn’t about intelligence or competence. It never had been. And because of that, they were going to lose.