Page 58 of Hidden & Held

She leaves. I wait thirty seconds, then pull up the audit trail I have been meticulously building against her for twelve weeks. There is a treasure trove of shady behavior: deleted invoices, altered timestamps across three billing cycles, and transfers of company funds to companies that should not exist. Or they didn’t, until Cassandra joined the firm.

My mission was simple: perform a deep-dive investigation into Cascadia Legal Partners, find out why, after over ten years of attempts, they were suddenly willing to be acquired. And what needed to change to fix any problems they had.

Joining the firm was easy. My résumé is impressive, and Cassandra hired me on the spot, glossing over the details of the acquisition to Rhodes. She knew I was there to review the cash-flow problems we had discovered in their financial records, and she had a plan to distract me from the real source of the problem: her.

She escalated Phoenix deliberately. I have known this for months now. I should have known it sooner. I had to keep up the ruse that I was investigating Phoenix. Make it look like she was a real suspect in this debacle. Writing her name in my report about Lena and her potential connection to Yarrow was not the weapon. It was the ammunition Cassandra was waiting for someone to hand her.

And I gave it over gift-wrapped.

I close the laptop at 5:15 p.m. and leave before my grandfather can schedule another call.

16

PHOENIX

It’s been two days since the accident. I’m still getting used to the cast, and maneuvering up and down the stairs remains unnerving. Everything still smells the same—coffee, cardboard, fresh paint. I’m the only thing that’s different, at least for the next six weeks. I crutch down the short path to the sunroom on this side, a room I have done little in so far. The door is open, and I glance around at the temporary bedroom Jackson made for me.

There is a new daybed with white, whimsical iron bars, one I would absolutely pick out myself. The bed is higher off the ground than usual, which helps with my ankle. Next to it, he put a three-drawer nightstand that doubles as a dresser. It has a small lamp and a cord clip to hold my charger in place, so I won’t need to bend down and find it. There is no closet in this room, but a compact clothing and shoe rack has been set up in the corner with a few of my staples that he organized and hung. I stand there a long moment, weight on the crutches, staring.

Shaking off any remnants of appreciative feelings toward my tenant, I begin preparing for the day. Psyching myself up in the bathroom mirror, I try to remember some of the affirmations Nessa has always been preaching to us.

“My ancestors survived everything so I could do this. So I’m doing this.”

I sound ridiculous and yet a little more powerful as I move on to the next one: “My worth is not up for debate. That meeting has been canceled. Permanently.”

And the craziest one of all: “I am soft, I am powerful, I am inexplicably intimidating to people in parking lots.” I breathe out a laugh. Nessa’s methods may be mad, but sometimes they work.

As I head toward the kitchen to see if I have coffee hidden away somewhere or if Nessa hid it all, my phone rings.

Mr. Rhodes.

My heart pounds heavily, the thud loud in my ears. Why is he calling? I woman up and hit answer.

“Phoenix Lane.”

There’s a rustling of papers, a squeak of a chair, and a clearing of his voice.

“Uh, hi Phoenix, it’s Donald Rhodes. Is now a good time?”

“Yes, I am in between business meetings at the moment,” I intone, not bothering to keep the dryness out of my voice.

“Yes … well, right. I am calling to discuss your employment here. I was wondering if you would possibly be willing to consider revoking your resignation?”

My grip tightens on the phone. Getting offered my old job was not on my bingo card today.

“Is Cassandra still there?”

“Well, yes. She is the partner’s daughter.”

“Then no. Thank you for your offer, but I don’t believe the direction of the firm aligns with what I am looking for.”

He sighs loudly. “I understand and expected this. Still, it was worth a shot. My next order of business was to say that there was a clerical mishap with your resignation. It wasn’t properly filed. I am putting it in today. You will have thirty days from today with your insurance coverage.”

Logistically, this couldn’t have happened. “How was there an error? My email did not receive a bounce back and⁠—”

“Phoenix,” Mr. Rhodes interrupts sternly. “Accept that there was an error.”

Oh, that’s how he is going to play it. “Okay, thank you, sir. I appreciate it. Is there anything else?”