Chapter 10 - The Boardroom Test
Hannah learned about Nathan's temporary restriction through a company announcement.
The email was deliberately vague.
Governance review.
Interim delegation of responsibilities.
Standard procedure.
Employees immediately translated it into rumor.
By lunch, people claimed Nathan was being forced out because of Hannah.
By two, someone claimed they had secretly dated for months.
By three, Hannah shut down the internal chat.
Rebecca found her staring at the same invoice for five minutes.
“Go home.”
“I’m working.”
“You're not.”
Hannah looked up.
Rebecca closed the laptop.
“Go.”
Hannah hesitated.
“Is Nathan going to lose his job because of me?”
“No.”
“You don't know that.”
“He could lose his job because of evidence about his conduct. You are not his conduct.”
Hannah looked away.
“People don't see it that way.”
“People are lazy thinkers.”
That made Hannah smile.
Rebecca leaned against the table.
“Listen carefully. Your existence is not an ethics violation. Being treated decently is not an ethics violation. Discovering questionable invoices is not an ethics violation.”
“What if the board says he gave me opportunities?”
“Did he?”
“He complimented my report.”
“Scandalous.”
“He asked me to explain it.”
“Terrifying.”
“He intervened at the gala.”
Rebecca's expression softened.
“Did he ask you for anything personal?”
“No.”
“Contact you outside work?”
“No.”
“Offer money?”
“No.”
“Promise promotion?”
“No.”
“Then stop prosecuting yourself for someone else's accusation.”
Hannah nodded.
Two days later, she was called before the independent audit committee.
The room intimidated her more than Nathan's office had.
Three directors sat across from her.
Outside counsel.
Rebecca.
A court reporter.
Hannah placed both hands in her lap to keep them steady.
The chairwoman, Evelyn Price, spoke first.
“Ms. Prescott, we understand you're nervous.”
“Yes.”
“We're interested in facts, not performance.”
Hannah almost smiled.
“Good. I'm better with facts.”
For ninety minutes, she explained Northline.
She showed invoice clusters.
Threshold patterns.
Timing.
She demonstrated that several services described as separate jobs appeared to belong to single work packages.
“If billed properly,” she said, “these groups would have required additional approval.”
“Who benefited from splitting them?”
“Initially, the vendor because review was avoided.”
“Anyone internally?”
“I can't determine that from invoices alone.”
One director leaned forward.
“Did Paige Winslow tell you to ignore them?”
“She told me they had been reviewed.”
“Do you believe her?”
“I believe she said it.”
The director paused.
“You're careful with language.”
“I've learned to be.”
Then the questioning shifted.
Nathan.
“How many private meetings have you had with Mr. Hawthorne?”
“One scheduled meeting.”
“Any dinners?”
“No.”
“Drinks?”
“No.”
“Personal phone calls?”
“No.”
“Messages?”
“No.”
“Did he offer you advancement?”
“No.”
“Did he touch you at the gala?”
Hannah’s face warmed.
“He offered his hand.”
“The photograph suggests he touched your face.”
“He didn't.”
The director looked down.
Interesting.
The photograph circulating online had been taken from an angle that could create that impression.
The video prompt imagined a cheek touch, but reality within Hannah's story had been simpler.
He had kept respectful distance.
“Did you feel uncomfortable?”
“Because of Mr. Hawthorne?”
“Yes.”
“No.”
“Did you perceive romantic interest?”
Hannah hesitated.
“No.”
It was the truthful answer.
At the time, she hadn't.
“Do you have romantic interest in him?”
Rebecca immediately interrupted.
“Relevance?”
The director raised his hand.
“Withdrawn.”
Hannah's heart hammered anyway.
The question bothered her because she had no clean answer.
She admired Nathan.
That was undeniable.
She had thought about him more than she wanted.
But admiration was not a relationship.
And she refused to let someone turn ordinary human feeling into evidence of misconduct.
The chairwoman shifted subjects.
“Ms. Prescott, do you know who sent the threatening messages?”
“No.”
“Do you believe Paige did?”
“I have no evidence.”
“Do you believe Richard Coyle did?”
“No evidence.”
“Thomas Hawthorne?”
“No evidence.”
“You don't accuse easily.”
“No.”
“Why?”
Hannah thought about Friday night.
Paige’s eyes on the dress.
The manager's joke.
Everyone else's silence.
“Because I've learned what it feels like when people decide who you are before they know.”
The room went quiet.
After Hannah left, the committee reviewed the documents implicating Thomas and Coyle.
Nathan waited in another office.
He was called in at 4:20.
His uncle Thomas sat at the far end of the boardroom.
Nathan had not been told he would be there.
Thomas looked tired.
“Nathan.”
“Uncle Thomas.”
The chairwoman began.
“This is not an adversarial hearing.”
Nathan almost laughed.
It certainly looked like one.
They asked about Bellweather.
He denied knowing it remained active.
They asked about Northline.
He knew it as a vendor but had never reviewed ownership.
They asked whether his father had established arrangements with Coyle.
Nathan admitted he did not know.
Thomas watched him.
Then the chairwoman asked:
“Did you instruct anyone to promote Hannah Prescott?”
“No.”
“Did you request her temporary senior role?”
“No.”
“Did you communicate with HR regarding compensation?”
“No.”
“Did you have a personal relationship with her?”
“No.”
Thomas finally spoke.
“You created the appearance.”
Nathan turned.
“Excuse me?”
“You made a public spectacle at the gala.”
Nathan stared at the man who had helped raise him after his father's death.
“A manager humiliated an employee.”
“And you should have let HR address it.”
“It was happening in front of me.”
“You embarrassed senior leadership.”
“No.”
Nathan's voice remained calm.
“Paige embarrassed senior leadership.”
Thomas leaned back.
“Your father understood something you never have.”
“What?”
“People at our level cannot react emotionally to every unfortunate situation.”
Nathan looked at him for a long moment.
Then he understood something.
Thomas did not think Paige's behavior was wrong.
He thought Nathan's intervention was inconvenient.
Nathan glanced at the independent directors.
“My father also apparently understood how to route vendor payments around review thresholds.”
Thomas's face hardened.
Counsel intervened.
“Nathan.”
“No. If we're discussing what my father understood, let's discuss all of it.”
Thomas stood.
“You have no idea what you're talking about.”
“Then explain Bellweather.”
Silence.
Nathan's voice dropped.
“Explain why your signature appears on authorizations connected to a company my dead father owned.”
Thomas looked toward counsel.
“I will not answer further without personal representation.”
Then he walked out.
The door closed.
Nobody spoke for several seconds.
Nathan sat again.
Evelyn Price folded her hands.
“Well.”
Nathan exhaled.
“That went well.”
For the first time all afternoon, Rebecca laughed.
The moment did not last.
At 6:02, forensic IT requested everyone remain in the building.
They had identified the administrator account used to impersonate Hannah and Melissa.
It belonged to a senior systems manager.
A man named Victor Hale.
Security located Victor's office.
Empty.
His laptop was gone.
His company phone was in a desk drawer.
And according to building access logs, Victor had left headquarters forty minutes earlier.
Security footage showed him carrying two bags.
He entered the underground garage.
Got into a black sedan.
The vehicle was registered to a company.
Bellweather Advisory.
For the first time, investigators had a living person directly connecting the financial scheme, the cyber intrusion and Nathan's family company.
Police were notified.
Then Rebecca's phone rang.
She answered.
Listened.
Her face changed.
“What?”
Everyone looked at her.
She slowly lowered the phone.
“Victor Hale has been found.”
Nathan stood.
“Where?”
“His car was abandoned near the airport.”
“And Victor?”
“Gone.”
On the passenger seat, police had found Hannah Prescott's employee badge.
The same badge security had taken from her during administrative leave.
Someone was still trying to put Hannah at the center of the crime.
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And this time, they were doing it while the man who might explain everything had disappeared.
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