Confession, Half of One
I brought the recorder to the office and set it on Rhett's desk without a word. Let him hit play himself. I watched his face do something I hadn't seen since we were kids — not anger this time, something that looked almost relieved to finally be caught.
He listened to the whole thing twice. The second time, his hands were shaking.
"I went in to ask her for money," he said finally, voice flat, like reciting a confession he'd rehearsed a thousand times and never once said aloud. "Ten years ago. I'd borrowed from Solis to cover a debt I couldn't tell her about, couldn't tell you about, couldn't tell Odette about. Cards. Bad investments. It got away from me fast."
"And the client list."
"Solis said the debt would disappear if I got him our top accounts before Northline's contract renewal. I told myself it was just information. I told myself nobody would trace it." He looked up at me, and for one second he was nineteen again, the brother who used to cover for me when I broke curfew. "I used your login because you were the only one who never changed your password. I didn't think — Gus, I swear to you, I didn't think they'd actually pin it on you in front of the board. I thought it would just disappear into the noise."
"But it didn't."
"No." His voice cracked. "And once they'd already decided it was you, I told myself correcting it would destroy the company. Would destroy Mom. I told myself silence was protecting people. It was protecting me."
I wanted to hit him. I wanted to hug him. I did neither, just stood there while ten years of my life rearranged itself around a truth I already half knew.
Before either of us could say anything else, the office door opened without a knock. Odette stood there, pale, a folder pressed to her chest like armor.
"He's not done," she said quietly, looking only at me. "Rhett — tell him what Solis is actually asking for now. It isn't money anymore."
Rhett's face went the color of ash.
"Tell him," Odette said again, "or I will."