"Texts?"
"Oh yes," he confirmed. "Expense reports, vendor logs, even his company phone records. HR's got everything."
"All tied to Alyssa?"
He jerked his chin toward the glass-walled conference room.
Through it, I saw Cole — standing, pacing, talking with his hands like he was giving a pitch. HR sat across from him, impassive. Darren, the CEO, looked exhausted. At the end of the table, a VP I'd only seen at the holiday party sat watching like a judge.
Then the door swung open.
Alyssa marched in, ponytail swinging, phone in hand, voice already raised. She didn't bother to knock.
"What is she doing?" I whispered.
I saw Cole.
"Blowing it all up," Mark said. "She's furious they're tying her name to this."
HR raised a hand to calm her. Alyssa talked over it.
Then someone slid a manila folder across the table toward Cole. He stopped talking mid-sentence.
His entire posture shifted, like the wind had gone out of him.
**
About 20 minutes later, the door opened again. Cole stepped into the hallway, eyes wide when he saw me.
"Paige," he said softly.
I didn't move.
