Chapter 3 - The Interrogation
"Let's dispense with the pleasantries," Marcus Vance said, not waiting for Sarah Jenkins to begin. He leaned forward, resting his forearms on the mahogany table, a predatory grin spreading across his face. He slid a clear plastic evidence bag across the table.
Inside the bag lay a crumpled, expensive white dress shirt with a violently torn cuff.
Natalie stared at it. The fabric still looked crisp, save for the damage around the wrist where Ethan had gripped it in the dark hours of Sunday night, desperate to pull her closer as the rain lashed against the terrace glass.
"This," Marcus continued, his voice dripping with performative disgust, "was recovered from the executive floor wastebasket early this morning by our custodial staff. Attached to it was an internal ID badge clip belonging to none of our cleaning crew, but registered specifically to the executive operations assistant." He paused, letting the silence stretch like a rack. "To you, Natalie."
Sarah Jenkins cleared her throat, opening a thick manila folder. "Company bylaws are explicit regarding fraternization between executive staff and direct operational subordinates, Ms. Brooks. Specifically, section fourteen, paragraph three prohibits romantic or intimate entanglements that present a conflict of interest, particularly when dealing with confidential corporate assets."
Natalie’s heart hammered against her ribs like a trapped bird. She kept her eyes fixed on the table, refusing to look at Ethan. She couldn't look at him. If she saw indifference in his eyes right now, she might actually break down completely.
"I found the shirt," Natalie said, her voice surprisingly steady, though it lacked any real volume. "In the executive lounge. After the party."
"And you just happened to leave it in the wastebasket?" Marcus challenged, his eyes flashing with triumph. "Or were you visiting Mr. Coleman’s private office after hours? Because security logs show your keycard swiped into the thirty-ninth-floor executive suite at 11:45 PM on Sunday. Long after everyone else had gone home."
The room went dead silent.
Even Sarah Jenkins looked up from her paperwork, her gaze shifting slowly from Natalie to the man sitting at the head of the table.
All eyes turned to Ethan Coleman.
Ethan slowly steepled his fingers, resting his chin against his knuckles. His dark eyes remained fixed entirely on Natalie. There was no warmth in them. No recognition of the hours they had spent talking about his daughter, his childhood, his fears of losing everything he had built.
"Mr. Coleman," Sarah said cautiously, her tone softening into deference. "As CEO, your input is required here. Does this constitute a breach of operational security?"
Marcus Vance smiled wider, practically vibrating with glee. He had played his hand perfectly. If Ethan admitted to the affair, he violated SEC regulations and corporate governance, giving the board grounds to strip him of his CEO title. If Ethan denied it and threw Natalie under the bus, she would be fired with cause, destroying her career forever while Marcus stepped smoothly into the newly vacant Director of Operations pipeline.
It was a checkmate.
Ethan slowly lowered his hands. He leaned back in his leather chair, his gaze cutting across the table like a razor blade.
"Mr. Vance," Ethan said, his voice deep, quiet, and absolutely lethal. "Are you quite finished with your theatrical presentation?"
Marcus blinked, his smile faltering slightly. "Excuse me?"
"You spent your entire weekend digging through trash cans, bribing custodial staff, and pulling security logs," Ethan continued, his tone devoid of emotion, yet heavy with suppressed fury. "All to construct a narrative about a missing shirt."
"It's a clear violation of company policy, Ethan," Marcus pressed, recovering his footing. "You can't sweep this under the rug. The board will—"
"The board," Ethan interrupted smoothly, "will hear what I tell them to hear."
He finally shifted his gaze from Marcus to Natalie. For a fraction of a second, the iron mask slipped. A shadow of something raw, intense, and fiercely protective flashed in his dark eyes.
Then, he turned back to the HR director.
"Ms. Jenkins," Ethan said clearly. "There has been no breach of corporate policy. Ms. Brooks was working late on Sunday evening compiling the Vanguard merger data. The shirt in question was an administrative casualty during a routine office reorganization of the executive suite."
Marcus slammed his hand onto the table. "That’s a lie! The logs show—"
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"The logs show what I authorize them to show, Marcus," Ethan said softly, his voice cutting through the room like glass. "And if you ever spend another minute of company time digging through wastebaskets instead of hitting your quarterly targets, you won't need to worry about HR hearings. You’ll be packing your desk before dinner."
***
