Chapter 5 - Jasmine Takes My Place
I didn't touch the flash drive.
Jasmine noticed.
“What's on it?”
I asked.
“Emails. Expense approvals. Internal presentations.”
“Why do you have them?”
“Because investor relations receives materials from every division.”
“Were they obtained legally?”
“Yes. They're files I had authorized access to.”
That mattered.
Nathan had drilled it into me before the meeting.
Do not encourage theft.
Do not ask someone to breach confidentiality.
Do not accept documents you know were improperly obtained.
I folded my hands.
“What do they show?”
Jasmine hesitated.
“I don't know if they show anything illegal.”
“Then what worries you?”
“A pattern.”
She explained.
For eighteen months, Prescott Global had been preparing to acquire a logistics technology company named Meridian Systems.
The acquisition had been delayed twice.
Publicly, Aaron blamed valuation disagreements.
Internally, some projections appeared inconsistent.
“How?”
“Certain assumptions changed depending on who received the deck.”
“That's not necessarily unusual.”
“I know.”
I had worked corporate risk.
Different audiences often received different presentations.
“What specifically concerns you?”
She leaned closer.
“There was a consultant.”
“Who?”
“North Star Strategic Advisory.”
Never heard of them.
“They were paid almost nine million dollars over sixteen months.”
“For what?”
“Integration planning.”
“Did Meridian agree to the acquisition?”
“No.”
I frowned.
Paying millions for integration planning before signing a transaction wasn't automatically wrong.
But it was aggressive.
“Who approved North Star?”
“Aaron.”
My stomach tightened.
“Anything else?”
“The company is owned by someone connected to him.”
“Connected how?”
“I don't know.”
Jasmine slid a printed page across the table.
North Star's registered manager was a man named Peter Cole.
I looked up.
“Cole?”
Jasmine nodded.
“My uncle.”
That changed everything.
“You knew?”
“Not initially.”
“When did you find out?”
“Two months ago.”
“And Aaron?”
“He knew before North Star was hired.”
I leaned back.
“Are you financially connected to your uncle?”
“No.”
“Did Aaron know you were related?”
“Yes.”
“So why is this concerning you now?”
Jasmine looked ashamed.
“Because he asked me to delete correspondence referencing the relationship.”
There it was.
Not proof of fraud.
Proof of a governance problem.
Possibly worse.
“Did you delete it?”
“No.”
I stared.
“He told you our marriage was over?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Last February.”
We were now in March.
Eleven months.
Exactly the timeline Aaron admitted.
“What else did he say?”
Jasmine looked uncomfortable.
“You don't need to protect me.”
“He said you lived separately emotionally.”
I almost smiled bitterly.
“We shared a bed.”
“I know that now.”
“He said what else?”
“That you stayed because of his money.”
A laugh escaped me.
Jasmine flinched.
“Sorry.”
“No. It’s ironic.”
“I know.”
“How?”
“Because after the Westbridge story, I realized…”
She didn't finish.
“That I had my own?”
“Yes.”
For the first time, I saw the situation through Jasmine's eyes.
Aaron had created two fictional women.
To me, Jasmine was simply a coworker demanding late-night meetings.
To Jasmine, I was a greedy wife refusing to release a dead marriage.
He had positioned himself between two women and edited reality for both.
That didn't absolve her.
But it explained something.
“Did you ever ask to speak to me?”
“Once.”
“When?”
“At the New York retreat.”
I remembered.
Jasmine had approached me near the elevators.
Aaron interrupted.
He said the car was waiting.
My stomach turned.
“He stopped you.”
“Yes.”
“Why didn't that bother you?”
“It did.”
She looked down.
“But by then I was emotionally involved, and people believe convenient stories when the truth would make them ashamed.”
That was the most honest thing she'd said.
I finally picked up the flash drive.
“I can't accept this directly.”
Her face fell.
“Why?”
“Because these are Prescott documents.”
“I have a right to possess my own work files.”
“You may. I don't know.”
I pushed it back.
“Give them to an employment attorney. If there are compliance concerns, report them through proper channels.”
“But Aaron controls—”
“Then Prescott's general counsel.”
“He doesn't trust Rebecca.”
“That may be exactly why she's appropriate.”
Jasmine stared.
“You're protecting him.”
“No.”
“Then why—”
“Because if there’s misconduct, it needs to survive scrutiny. Not look like two angry women collecting evidence against a cheating husband.”
She became still.
“You're right.”
“I know.”
I hated saying it.
She almost smiled.
Then she whispered, “I am sorry.”
I looked out the window.
“I believe you're sorry.”
“Does that help?”
“No.”
She nodded.
“I understand.”
“Do you love him?”
The question surprised both of us.
Jasmine took several seconds.
“I thought I did.”
“And now?”
“I don't know who he is.”
I understood that better than I wanted to.
When we left, Nathan was waiting in the lobby.
He watched Jasmine walk away.
“Well?”
“She has internal concerns.”
“What kind?”
I summarized.
His expression became serious.
“Do not touch those files.”
“I didn't.”
“Good.”
“Should Westbridge know?”
“Not from you.”
“Because of conflict?”
“Because you learned it during a personal meeting with your husband's affair partner.”
When he said it like that, it sounded absurd.
“So what do I do?”
“Nothing.”
I hated that answer.
Nathan saw it.
“Claire, sometimes doing nothing is how you avoid ruining legitimate investigations.”
Fine.
I drove home.
At four, Aaron called.
I almost ignored him.
Then answered.
“Did you meet Jasmine?”
No greeting.
Interesting.
“How do you know?”
“She told me.”
“Why?”
“I called her.”
“Are you still seeing her?”
“No.”
“What did she give you?”
My silence answered too much.
“Claire.”
“I suggest you speak to your general counsel.”
“What did she give you?”
“I didn't take anything.”
He exhaled sharply.
“She's angry because I ended it.”
“That may be true.”
“She wants revenge.”
“That may also be true.”
“You believe her over me?”
I stared at the ocean.
“This isn't a competition anymore.”
“Claire, listen to me. North Star did legitimate work.”
I froze.
I had not mentioned North Star.
He realized it.
Too late.
“Goodbye, Aaron.”
“Wait.”
I ended the call.
Then I immediately called Nathan.
“He knows.”
“Knows what?”
“That Jasmine discussed North Star.”
“How?”
“I didn't say the name. He did.”
Nathan was silent.
“That isn't proof of anything.”
“I know.”
“But it's interesting.”
“Yes.”
Twenty minutes later, something even more interesting happened.
Prescott Global's general counsel called me.
“Claire, this is Rebecca Lane.”
“Hi.”
“I need to ask a strange question.”
“Okay.”
“Did Jasmine Cole give you company documents today?”
“No.”
“You're certain?”
“Yes.”
“She offered. I refused.”
Rebecca exhaled audibly.
“Thank God.”
“Why?”
“Because she submitted them to me.”
I stood.
“When?”
“Forty minutes ago.”
“What happens now?”
“I can't discuss an internal investigation.”
“Understood.”
“But because Westbridge is a substantial shareholder, formal disclosure may eventually occur if findings become material.”
I closed my eyes.
“Rebecca.”
“Yes?”
“Do your job.”
A pause.
“I intend to.”
The next morning, Aaron did not go to the office.
By noon, rumors were circulating.
At three, Prescott Global announced that its board had formed a special committee to review “certain vendor selection and disclosure procedures.”
No names.
No accusations.
But investors understood.
The stock fell six percent.
And online, people immediately linked it to my divorce.
Headlines became ridiculous.
SCORNED WIFE TRIGGERS CORPORATE CRISIS
False.
I had triggered nothing.
Jasmine had reported internal concerns.
The board had acted.
But truth was boring.
Drama traveled faster.
Then, late that afternoon, another message appeared.
This time from Aaron's sister, Caroline.
Please don't believe everything Jasmine says.
There's something about her uncle you don't know.
I stared at the screen.
I almost ignored it.
Then a second message came.
Aaron isn't innocent. But neither is Jasmine.
And the final line made my stomach drop.
May you like
North Star existed before Jasmine ever met Aaron.
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