Chapter 3

On the day of the Hartwell presentation, I got to the office early.

My name was no longer on the meeting invite. I'd already emailed the backup materials to the team, but I brought a printed copy, just in case.

Just before the meeting, Leah stopped dead in the hallway and started breathing fast.

“Nathan, I can't.”

“You're ready for this,” he told her.

She looked at me, tears welling up. “If Emma's in the room, all I'll think about is how I stole from her. Every time she looks at me, I'll remember taking her project and ruining her notes.”

Nathan turned to me. “Wait outside, Emma.”

“I can handle any questions about the risk model.”

“Having you there is sending her into a panic. She can't fall apart in front of the client.”

I set the printouts on the table by the door.

“The backups are in your inbox. I'll be at my desk if anyone needs me to explain something.”

I went back to my office and kept working on the handover. At lunch, I went downstairs to eat.

After the presentation, Nathan appeared beside my desk.

“Did you talk to her before we went in?”

“About what?”

“She wouldn't stop saying she'd stolen your work. Did you get to her when no one else was around?”

“No. I dropped off the files and went back to work.”

He stayed where he was.

“If something in the materials needs fixing, email me the question,” I said.

Then I went back to my handover notes.

At home that evening, I packed up more of my things. I was just zipping up my suitcase when a scream came from the living room.

Nathan and I got there at the same time.

Leah was kneeling on the carpet with a broken mosaic in her lap. After Michael died, Nathan had taken her to a craft class, and together they'd made a picture of a sunrise.

He'd told her it meant there was still a future waiting for her. Now the frame was split, and pieces of the sun lay scattered around her knees.

Leah looked straight at me. “How could you?”

“How could I what?”

“You're angry about the files. You've been packing to leave. So you broke the one thing that made me believe I could live again.”

“I haven't touched your mosaic.”

“It was fine before I got in the shower. Nathan was on the phone. You were the only one near my room—I saw you walk past.”

Nathan took the broken picture from her lap. As his fingers traced the sun they'd pieced together, his face hardened.

“Were you in her room?” he asked me.

“No.”

“She says you were upset about the files.”

I stared at him. “Do you believe I did this?”

He took too long to answer. I had my answer before he said a word.

“I helped her make it,” he said at last. “It gave her a reason to look ahead. She wouldn't break it herself.”

Seven years of knowing me hadn't made my answer worth believing. He was certain Leah couldn't destroy something she cared about, but apparently I could.

“Believe her if you want,” I said. “But crying doesn't prove that I broke anything.”

He took a step toward me.

“I'm trying to figure out what happened.”

I stepped away before he could reach for me.

“I said I never touched it. You decided that wasn't enough.”

I went into the study and shut the door in his face.