Chapter 3 - The Folder in Our Bedroom
I didn’t sleep.
Neither did Tasha.
At one in the morning, she brought the folder downstairs.
It was thicker than I expected.
Invoices.
Emails.
Printed spreadsheets.
Handwritten notes.
My wife sat across from me at the dining table where I had spent six months applying for jobs.
Now we were examining evidence that could cost her career.
Maybe more.
I opened the first invoice.
Northline Strategic Consulting.
Thirty-eight thousand dollars.
“What did they supposedly do?”
“Vendor optimization.”
“What does that mean?”
Tasha gave a tired laugh.
“I’m starting to think nothing.”
Another invoice.
Twenty-seven thousand.
Then forty-one.
Every one had passed through Tasha’s department.
“How did you approve three of these without knowing?”
She rubbed her face.
“Adrian sent them as emergency executive requests.”
“Does that normally happen?”
“Sometimes.”
“Three times?”
She looked ashamed.
“I trusted him.”
That phrase hurt in more ways than one.
I closed the folder.
“Professionally?”
Her eyes filled.
“Damon.”
“I need the truth once.”
“I’ve told you.”
“No.”
I shook my head.
“You’ve told me whatever I discovered enough to ask about.”
That landed.
She looked down.
I continued.
“I need the entire ugly truth tonight.”
She cried quietly.
I waited.
Finally, she spoke.
“The first time Adrian kissed me, I didn’t stop him immediately.”
“I know.”
“The second time…”
My stomach dropped.
“You said there wasn’t a second time.”
“There wasn’t another kiss.”
“Then what?”
“He tried.”
“When?”
“A week later.”
“Where?”
“His office.”
I pushed back from the table.
“Tasha.”
“I stopped him.”
“But you went into his office alone knowing what had already happened.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
She covered her face.
“I liked the attention.”
There it was.
No excuse.
No blaming my unemployment.
No clever wording.
Just truth.
I looked away.
She continued through tears.
“You were home. Angry. Quiet. Every conversation became about bills or applications.”
“I was depressed.”
“I know.”
“You knew then too.”
“Yes.”
“And instead of telling me you felt lonely—”
“I told him.”
The words cut cleanly.
I stood.
“I need air.”
“Damon.”
I walked onto the back porch.
Cold night air hit my face.
I wanted to scream.
Instead, I gripped the railing.
A minute later, Tasha stood behind the glass door.
She didn’t come outside.
For once, she waited.
I stayed there until my anger stopped controlling my breathing.
When I came back in, she was still at the table.
“I am not forgiving this tonight.”
“I know.”
“But I’m also not letting Adrian bury you under fraud because I’m angry.”
She looked at me.
“Why?”
“Because two things can be true.”
My voice shook.
“You betrayed me emotionally.”
She flinched.
“And someone may also be setting you up for a crime you didn’t commit.”
Tasha began crying again.
“I’m sorry.”
“We’ll deal with sorry later.”
I opened the folder.
“Right now, we protect facts.”
She stared at me.
I almost smiled bitterly.
“I spent twelve years supervising construction crews. Documentation keeps people alive.”
We made copies.
Photographed everything.
Backed files up to an external drive.
Tasha forwarded messages to a new email account Adrian didn’t know about.
At three-thirty, I found something.
“Come here.”
She leaned over my shoulder.
An email from Adrian.
APPROVE NORTHLINE TODAY.
Tasha had replied:
I need the vendor verification documents first.
Adrian:
I ALREADY CLEARED IT WITH LEGAL. PROCESS IT.
I pointed.
“This helps you.”
She nodded.
Then I found another.
Tasha:
I’M NOT COMFORTABLE WITH ANOTHER NORTHLINE PAYMENT WITHOUT SUPPORTING WORK PRODUCT.
Adrian:
DON’T MAKE THIS HARD. I’M TRYING TO POSITION YOU FOR THE DIRECTOR ROLE.
I looked at her.
“The promotion.”
She closed her eyes.
“He told me I was his choice.”
“Before or after the kiss?”
“Before.”
That changed something.
Adrian had started professionally.
Then personally.
Then financially.
The lines had blurred until Tasha no longer knew which favor belonged to which relationship.
At four, she found another email.
Her face changed.
“What?”
“This one isn’t mine.”
I read it.
It came from her account at 11:43 p.m. on a Wednesday.
APPROVED. RELEASE PAYMENT.
“Where were you that night?”
She stared at the date.
Then ran upstairs.
She returned with her calendar.
“Jayden’s school concert.”
I remembered.
We had been sitting in the auditorium from seven until almost ten.
There were photos.
Videos.
Dozens of parents who saw us.
“What time did you get home?”
“After ten-thirty.”
“Were you logged into work?”
“No.”
She looked at me.
“Damon, I didn’t send that.”
For the first time, we had something concrete.
Not memory.
Not emotion.
A timestamp.
At seven in the morning, I called an attorney I knew from my old company.
Nina Patel.
She specialized in employment disputes.
By eight, we were in her office.
Tasha told everything.
Including Adrian.
Including the kiss.
Nina didn’t react.
That helped.
When Tasha finished, Nina asked one question.
“Did you ever give Adrian your password?”
Tasha hesitated.
My stomach dropped.
“Tasha.”
She looked ashamed.
“Once.”
“When?”
“Two months ago.”
“Why?”
“He needed to access the purchasing dashboard while IT reset his permissions.”
Nina leaned back.
“Did company policy allow that?”
“No.”
Tasha whispered it.
“No.”
I closed my eyes.
Nina remained calm.
“That was a serious mistake.”
“I know.”
“But a policy violation is not the same as committing fraud.”
Tasha nodded.
“We need IT logs.”
Nina gathered the documents.
“Do not meet compliance alone.”
At 8:12, Tasha’s phone rang.
Monica.
This time she answered.
“Tasha?”
Monica sounded panicked.
“Where were you last night?”
“Home.”
“Thank God.”
Tasha frowned.
“Why?”
“I need to tell you something.”
“What?”
Monica lowered her voice.
“Adrian showed up at Nova.”
“We know.”
“He was asking everyone whether you were coming.”
My jaw tightened.
“Then he got angry.”
“Why?”
“Because you had the folder.”
Tasha looked at me.
“How did he know that?”
Monica went silent.
“Monica.”
“I told him.”
Tasha stood.
“You what?”
“He kept asking if you had copied anything.”
“Why would you tell him?”
“I didn’t know what was happening.”
Tasha paced.
“What else did you tell him?”
Monica began crying.
“That you had been asking questions about Northline.”
Tasha closed her eyes.
Then Monica whispered, “There’s more.”
“What?”
“After you didn’t come, Adrian left.”
“So?”
“He said he needed to clean up your mistake before Monday.”
My skin prickled.
“Clean up what mistake?”
Monica’s voice dropped.
“I don’t know.”
May you like
Then she said something that made Tasha sit down again.
“But he took your office keys with him.”
