Chapter 8
The Alpine audit lasted three weeks. Cairn supplied original logs, Sterling corrected its reports, and Marcus negotiated a remediation plan. Alpine imposed a financial penalty but did not terminate the contract because Sterling disclosed the problem before the next certification deadline.
Paige’s conduct was serious, but investigators found no evidence that she had personally profited. She had falsified performance metrics to protect a campaign, preserve Dad’s approval, and hide operational problems she believed would make her appear incompetent.
The board removed her vice-presidential title and offered her a lower-level position after a six-month suspension.
She refused it.
For several days, relatives blamed me. An aunt said family disputes should remain private. An uncle asked whether proving a point was worth damaging Dad’s legacy. Neither mentioned the falsified reports or the chair.
I stopped answering explanations disguised as questions.
Paige came to my office after the board announced its decision. She did not wear the burgundy dress or carry the phone that had once served as her shield. She looked younger without the polished certainty.
“I resigned,” she said.
“I heard.”
“Dad says you destroyed my career.”
“What do you say?”
She looked through the glass at Cairn’s employees. “I say I changed the numbers.”
It was not an apology, but it was the first honest sentence she had given me without being cornered.
“I kept telling myself the shipments were only late because operations entered them wrong,” she continued. “Then I told myself correcting the labels wasn’t changing the data. After that, every lie required another one.”
“Why record the dinner?”
“Because Dad was angry at you instead of me.”
I waited.
She lowered her eyes. “For ten minutes, I felt safe.”
The cruelty did not disappear because I understood it. But understanding gave the wound edges.
“You sent the clip to people.”
“I wanted them to laugh with me.”
“They did.”
“I know.”
Paige placed her phone on the table. The original recording remained on it.
“I’m giving this to your attorney. The full version proves you didn’t threaten Dad or demand anything.”
“Rina already has enough evidence.”
“I still want her to have it.”
She turned to leave.
“Paige.”
She stopped.
“You are responsible for what you did. Dad’s approval may explain why you wanted to win, but it didn’t press the buttons.”
“I know.”
“What will you do now?”
“For the first time, I honestly don’t know.”
“That might be healthier than pretending.”
A faint, painful smile crossed her face.
After she left, Rina archived the recording with the other documents. I did not delete it. Not because I wanted to replay the humiliation, but because Paige’s camera had captured the exact moment I stopped mistaking endurance for love.
Sterling signed Cairn’s renewal the following Monday.
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The additional annual cost was exactly $100,000.
The payment arrived without a personal message from Dad.
