There it was, exactly as it had always been. The rule she had grown up inside, never fully articulated but completely understood: you did not lie, exactly. You just did not say the truth out loud if it inconvenienced the wrong person. You managed other people’s comfort at the cost of your own dignity and called it maturity, called it family, called it being the easy one.
By Monday, the situation at NorthRiver had moved from tense to unstable. Leah heard about it the way professionals in her field heard about things — through rescheduled calls, abrupt changes in legal coordination, and the particular tone of people trying not to sound worried. Raymond hadn’t caused the exposure. But he had stepped into a leadership role without understanding its gravity, and he had made several statements to internal stakeholders about how contained the situation was. One of those statements reached a vendor representative who contradicted it in writing, which triggered a formal internal review.
Within two weeks, Raymond was placed on administrative leave.
No dramatic firing. No public spectacle. Just the quiet, devastating sound of a door being closed.
Trevor called Leah before Denise did.