Chapter 15 - THE MAN ALREADY INSIDE MY COMPANY
I knew Jason Reed.
Not well.
But I knew him.
Thirty-two years old.
Operations manager.
Quiet.
Reliable.
Promoted twice in five years.
He had sat three seats away from Michael during a strategy meeting only six months earlier.
When Detective Benton showed me his employee photograph, I stared at it for nearly a minute.
The resemblance to Deborah was subtle.
The eyes.
The jaw.
Once you knew to look, it was impossible not to see.
“Does he know?”
“Not yet.”
Deborah insisted investigators tell him privately.
She didn’t want to appear at his door claiming motherhood before DNA confirmed anything.
Jason agreed to testing.
Forty-eight hours later, the result came back.
99.99 percent.
Deborah had found the son she had mourned for thirty-two years.
Their first meeting happened in a small conference room at the district attorney’s office.
Ellen and I were not there.
It belonged to them.
But afterward, Jason asked to see us.
He sat across from me looking stunned.
“I’ve worked for you for six years.”
“I know.”
“And you knew nothing?”
“Nothing.”
“My parents?”
“The people who raised you?”
“Yes.”
“They may not have known either.”
Investigators believed Jason’s adoptive parents had used an attorney who presented the adoption as legal.
They had both died years earlier.
Jason rubbed his hands together.
“So everyone who could explain my childhood is dead.”
“Not everyone.”
He looked at me.
“Thomas Vale is still alive.”
Jason met Thomas the next day.
I never asked exactly what was said.
Some conversations belong to the people who survived them.
Meanwhile, Michael’s life continued collapsing.
His suspension became termination after the audit confirmed $241,000 in unauthorized expenses.
The company’s board voted unanimously.
I abstained.
Not because I disagreed.
Because I wanted no one to claim I had engineered the decision personally.
His trust distribution remained frozen.
The fraud investigation continued.
Cassandra filed for annulment from jail through her attorney.
Michael signed without contest.
One afternoon, he came to my office carrying a cardboard box.
Inside were the last personal items from his desk.
A photograph of him and Ellen.
A baseball I had caught with him when he was nine.
A cheap plastic trophy from his first sales award.
He placed the box down.
“I lost everything.”
I shook my head.
“No.”
He looked at me.
“You lost everything we were paying for.”
“That isn’t the same thing.”
“What do I have left?”
“Your health.”
“Your education.”
“Your freedom, at least for now.”
“And a chance to decide what kind of man you become when nobody is financing the illusion.”
Michael’s eyes filled.
“Do I still have you?”
I didn’t answer immediately.
“You have a father.”
His face tightened.
“But not a rescuer.”
That distinction became the beginning of Michael’s real punishment.
He finally had to live without someone erasing the consequences.
But the criminal investigation was not finished.
And three weeks later, prosecutors called me with a decision.
May you like
They intended to charge Michael too.
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