Page 27 of Hidden & Held

“As we know, there are only two ways to become a named partner here at Cascadia Legal. The first is to be a founder, such as Mr. Rhodes”—I nod in acknowledgment—“and Mr. Pierce. The second is to have earned that honor through hard work and dedication. Even then, the two attorneys we have are only entitled to Associate Partner status and are not able to make changes for the firm.”

I stop in the center of the room, making my point clear. “Cassandra is neither. This is a misrepresentation of her authority.”

Someone near the back mutters “holy shit” under their breath. Cassandra stands up, wanting to defend herself. I don’t let her. Right now, I am judge, jury, and sentencer.

“Stop.” I move my hand forward, palm down, and Cassandra freezes halfway upright. “I will get to you. Besides”—I straighten my dress, brushing imaginary lint—“I am just getting to the good part.”

A cough of disbelief comes from the back, and I see one of the law interns take out his phone to start recording before a junior associate tells him to put it away.

I wait for silence before continuing. “Yarrow Holdings.” I pause, waiting until recognition flashes across everyone’s face.

“You have all heard this name. Recently, I’m sure in the context of my client and my suspension.”

I click to the next slide, showing a corporate hierarchy. It is clean, visual, and it paints a sordid picture.

“What you may not know is that Yarrow Holdings has a documented, verifiable connection to three real estate development projects in the greater Cascadia area. Projects that required legal counsel, naturally. Counsel that was provided—informally, undocumented, and outside standard firm billing, meaning the work never officially passed through firm oversight—by someone in this room.”

Everyone is looking around, trying to determine who like a game of Clue.

Beth peers at the corporate hierarchy diagram on the screen, then at Cassandra, then back at the screen, with the unhurried assessment of someone solving a puzzle they already know the answer to.

“Yarrow Holdings,” she says. “You know, in my book club, we call companies like that the antagonist’s funding source. They exist to make someone look powerful right up until chapter twenty when everything collapses.” She tilts her head at Cassandra. “I did wonder what was financing the wardrobe.”

A sound escapes from the interns’ corner that is quickly suppressed. Cassandra’s hand moves to the lapel of her jacket involuntarily, before she stops herself.

I clear my throat slightly, bringing the group back to the topic at hand.

“Yarrow Inc., and any company associated with them, has been banned by Cascadia Legal Partners. The firm has a longstanding policy that it will not represent Yarrow Holdings because the company has repeatedly asked attorneys to facilitate or overlook conduct that violates the firm’s ethical standards.

“It should be noted that despite spending four months inside this firm, Jackson Mercer was never assigned a single Yarrow matter, billed a Yarrow client, or attended a meeting involving the company. Also, this act of representation, even informal, is a conflict of interest that predates my client’s case by eleven months.

“To bring my multiple lines of thinking together: I have presented a line of questioning regarding adding a Mergers and Acquisitions department, our firm’s focus on billable hours that seems unfounded, and an improper connection to a banned company.”

I move to the next slide, where four names appear. Jackson Mercer, Daniel Davenport, Beth Rogers, and Phoenix Lane. I added my own name, knowing I was not exempt from his access, from his manipulation, and I will not pretend otherwise.

“In the past five months, our new M&A associate has integrated himself remarkably well into this firm’s social fabric. Rec league basketball with our senior litigator, Daniel. A book club—I am told is an excellent one by the way—with our head of contracts, Beth. And renovation support with me, our highest billable hour employee in one of the most profitable departments.”

I leave out any emotion from our interactions, since the only factual statement is his support for renovations; we had nothing else solid.

Daniel subtly shifts away while Beth clutches her eyeglass strap of decorative beads, staring over at Jackson with grandmotherly disapproval. I cut in before either of them can say anything.

“I want to be clear. I am not suggesting these relationships with Daniel or Beth are disingenuous. What I am suggesting is that in the context of a due diligence investigation, access matters. And access was granted very willingly by people who had no reason to be on guard.”

I look directly at Jackson now. “Because nobody told us we needed to be.”

Daniel leans back in his chair, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “Wait. So he joined my rec team to feel out what was going on around here?”

The room shifts uneasily at his bluntness.

“Yes,” I answer evenly. “Though I also suspect he joined your basketball team to work on his stamina.”

A low cough-laugh escapes from somewhere near the interns’ corner.

For the first time all afternoon, Jackson reacts. One dark eyebrow lifts slightly, the barest hint of offense crossing his face. I can almost hear him say:

Really? You know that isn’t my problem.

Beth adjusts the beaded chain on her glasses with slow disappointment. “Oh, honey,” she sighs toward Jackson, “using romance readers for corporate espionage is exactly how men end up murdered in chapter twelve.”