Chapter 5 - The Contract
The next four days were an exercise in absolute iron discipline.
At home, I played the quiet, obliging husband. I left financial brochures on the desk, nodded patiently when Natalie talked about her gallery’s upcoming season, and let her watch me print the "approval sheets" for the eighty-thousand-dollar transfer.
Meanwhile, I met in secret with Marcus Vance, the CEO of Continental Freight. Marcus was a no-nonsense veteran who had hired me fourteen years earlier. When I laid out the digital evidence showing how Grant Holloway had obtained Continental’s internal pricing to manipulate zoning boards, Marcus’s face went white with fury.
“Grant Holloway thought he could use my top logistics director as a blind pawn?” Marcus slammed his pen down. “What do you want to do, Ethan?”
“I want Continental to pull the rug out at the Friday gala,” I said. “Cancel the letter of intent on fraud grounds, present the forensic audit to the city council chairman who’s attending, and offer the terminal contract to Preston Hale’s rival firm instead.”
Marcus looked at me for three long seconds, then extended his hand. “You’ve got ice in your veins, Mercer. Let’s do it.”
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Natalie had spent six years assuming my quiet patience was weakness. She was about to learn that patience is merely the art of choosing the exact moment to strike.
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