Chapter 5 - The Woman in the Silver Dress|
Laurel didn't sleep that night.
She tried.
She took a hot shower.
Changed into an oversized sweatshirt.
Made tea she never drank.
But every time she closed her eyes, she saw the photograph of herself outside her apartment.
Someone had been watching.
Someone had known where she lived.
And someone wanted her frightened enough to stop asking questions.
At 6:12 the next morning, June called.
“Please tell me you're sitting down.”
Laurel closed her eyes.
“That's becoming my least favorite sentence.”
“The video has three million views.”
Laurel stared at the ceiling.
“Wonderful.”
“And the hotel released a statement.”
Her pulse accelerated.
“What statement?”
June read it aloud.
“The Halcyon Grand takes guest privacy and professional conduct seriously and has placed an employee on administrative leave pending an internal review.”
Laurel sat up.
“They didn't mention the unauthorized software?”
“No.”
“The failed payment transactions?”
“No.”
“Caleb?”
“No.”
June's voice softened.
“They're letting you take the blame.”
Laurel pressed a hand against her forehead.
Three million strangers thought she had sabotaged a children's charity because she couldn't handle seeing her ex-boyfriend with another woman.
And the company she had served for eight years had just given the accusation credibility.
“What about the fundraiser?” Laurel asked.
June hesitated.
“The total came to $2.63 million.”
Despite everything, Laurel smiled.
They had surpassed the goal.
The children would receive the help they needed.
At least something good had survived the night.
“That's wonderful,” Laurel whispered.
June went quiet.
Then she said, “You really do care more about those kids than your own reputation.”
“That's not entirely true.”
“What?”
“My reputation matters.”
Laurel looked at the dark screen of her laptop.
“But I'm not going to let Preston make me feel ashamed for caring about my work.”
By noon, her email inbox was overflowing.
A local wedding planner canceled an upcoming consultation.
Two industry acquaintances sent carefully worded messages suggesting she take a break from public events.
A distant cousin asked whether she'd been drinking at the gala.
Then her landlord emailed to remind her that her lease renewal was due in six weeks.
Laurel laughed at that one.
The universe apparently believed in scheduling humiliation efficiently.
At 1:40 p.m., her doorbell rang.
She approached cautiously.
Roman had encouraged her to preserve the threatening messages and contact the police if she felt unsafe.
He had also recommended changing the building access code through management.
Laurel had done both.
Still, her heart pounded as she checked the peephole.
A blond woman stood outside.
Silver-gown Camille had traded her evening glamour for dark jeans, a cream sweater, and sunglasses.
Laurel stared.
Then she opened the door exactly three inches.
“You have an impressive amount of nerve.”
Camille removed her sunglasses.
“I know.”
“Did Preston send you?”
“No.”
“Then why are you here?”
Camille glanced down the hallway.
“Because I need to tell you something.”
Laurel nearly closed the door.
“You told three million people I was a bitter ex-girlfriend.”
Camille flinched.
“I know.”
“You posted a video designed to destroy my career.”
“Yes.”
“And now you want coffee?”
“No.”
Camille's voice trembled.
“I want to apologize.”
Laurel stared at her.
For the first time, Camille didn't look smug.
She looked exhausted.
There were dark circles beneath her eyes.
Her makeup couldn't completely hide them.
“Why?” Laurel asked.
Camille swallowed.
“Because Preston told me to post that video before he even walked into the ballroom.”
Silence.
Laurel slowly opened the door wider.
“What?”
“He sent me a prepared caption that afternoon.”
Camille looked at her phone.
“He said you were unstable and had threatened to interfere with the launch.”
Laurel felt sick.
“And you believed him?”
“At first.”
Camille's eyes filled.
“He told me you stalked him after the breakup.”
Laurel laughed bitterly.
“I blocked his number.”
“I know that now.”
“How?”
“Because he made a mistake.”
Camille stepped closer.
“He showed me messages he claimed you sent last month.”
Laurel went still.
“I didn't send him anything.”
“I checked the dates.”
Camille lifted her phone.
“One message supposedly came from you while you were attending your grandmother's funeral in Milwaukee.”
Laurel froze.
Her grandmother had died four months earlier.
She had spent three days in Wisconsin with her family.
Only a handful of people knew the details.
Preston had been one of them.
“He fabricated messages?”
Camille nodded.
“And that's not the worst part.”
Laurel opened the door.
“Come in.”
They sat at the kitchen table.
Camille placed a slim leather folder between them.
“For the record,” she said, “Preston and I aren't engaged.”
Laurel frowned.
“I didn't ask.”
“People think we are.”
Camille gave a hollow laugh.
“He encouraged that rumor because my family invests in technology companies.”
Laurel stared.
“You're an investor?”
“My father is.”
Camille shook her head.
“I work in compliance consulting for nonprofit organizations.”
Laurel's expression changed.
“Then you understood what that unauthorized payment platform could do.”
Camille nodded miserably.
“I suspected.”
“Suspected what?”
“That Wade Meridian was using charitable organizations to collect information it wasn't entitled to keep.”
Laurel felt her blood turn cold.
“Financial information?”
“Not just financial.”
Camille opened the folder.
Inside were printed spreadsheets with several columns blacked out.
“Brightstep supports children entering emergency foster placement.”
“I know.”
“Families sometimes complete assistance applications that include addresses, school districts, medical needs, and emergency contacts.”
Laurel stared at her.
Camille's voice dropped.
“Preston's company proposed combining those records with donor profiles under something he called predictive outreach.”
Laurel's stomach twisted.
“Children's records?”
“Yes.”
“Without permission?”
“That's what I'm trying to establish.”
For several seconds, Laurel couldn't move.
This wasn't a man spreading gossip to punish his former girlfriend.
This was something far uglier.
“Why tell me?” she whispered.
Camille looked ashamed.
“Because yesterday I found a spreadsheet labeled Hensley Community Access Model.”
Laurel's breath stopped.
She recognized those words.
She had written them three years earlier.
Not for Preston.
Not for Wade Meridian.
For a volunteer project she'd developed with Brightstep to help families locate emergency services without exposing children's identities.
It had never been a commercial product.
It had been her idea.
Her research.
Her work.
Camille pushed the folder toward her.
“I think Preston stole your project.”
Laurel stared at the pages.
Then Camille said the sentence that changed the direction of her life.
“I didn't come here because I'm Preston's girlfriend.”
May you like
She held Laurel's gaze.
“I came because I think you're the only person who can prove what he's done.”
