Page 120 of Sexting the Boss
She doesn’t move.
“I’m here to offer you a way out,” she says, and she says it like she’s still in charge. “You’re about to cause damage you can’t undo.”
“You already caused it,” I reply.
Her smile tightens. “You always struggled to separate emotion from strategy.”
I look at her, and I keep my voice level. “This isn’t emotion, and it isn’t strategy, and it’s already in motion.”
She tilts her head. “What did you do, Ethan?”
I tap my screen and turn it slightly, just enough that she can see what I want her to see.
The affidavit. The ledger. The authorization chain. The public official’s name.
Her breath catches. It’s small, but it’s there, and I store it away because it tells me I found the nerve.
“That doesn’t mean what you think it means,” she says quickly.
“It means you don’t get to manage outcomes anymore,” I reply.
She steps closer, and the polish cracks just a fraction. “You won’t release that.”
“I didn’t release it,” I correct. “I submitted it, and I submitted it through counsel, and I submitted it to agencies that don’t negotiate with you.”
Her eyes harden. “You’re bluffing.”
I press a button under my desk.
The door opens.
Two agents step in, badges visible, movements efficient, faces unreadable.
Victoria turns slowly, and the calculation in her eyes races, because she’s used to rooms where her charm resets the balance, and this isn’t that room.
“This is outrageous,” she says, and her voice stays smooth because she’s still trying to control the scene. “Ethan, you don’t understand who you’re crossing.”
“I understand,” I answer. “That’s why I didn’t do this alone.”
Her gaze cuts to me again, and her mouth curves in a small, mean smile.
“This is about her,” she says softly. “The assistant.”
I don’t respond, because I don’t owe her confirmation and I don’t owe her a reaction.
She takes the silence as permission anyway.
“You’re burning your own name for someone who’ll leave when it gets difficult.” Her voice turns sweet in the way she always used when she wanted to put a knife in and make it feel like advice.
It doesn’t land.
“You don’t get to speak about her,” I say, and my voice stays calm because calm is control.
One of the agents steps forward.
“Victoria Lane,” he says, “you’re under arrest on charges including conspiracy to commit wire fraud, money laundering, and obstruction.”
She lifts her chin. “You think this sticks.”
