Page 36

Theo

The temp blinks once. Twice. “Uh… Where do I…get that?”

I asked her to let Austin and Rhys know they’re needed in the conference room and to get a tray of coffee. I stare at her for a beat too long, torn between disbelief and sheer fatigue. I’ve had a string of temps in and out of Mackenzie’s chair for weeks now. The longest anyone has lasted is three days.

“The breakroom. Down the hall. There’s a coffee machine, filters, grounds— Just follow the smell,” I say, trying not to let my frustration show. “And bring mugs, not paper cups.”

She nods frantically, not writing any of that down, and disappears like the room swallowed her whole.

I rub the back of my neck. This is what it’s come to—mornings starting in chaos, expectations lowered to meet reality, and something as simple as conference room coffee turning into a logistical nightmare.

God, I miss Mackenzie. In the office, at home, everywhere.

I steel myself before my thoughts move on to Levi, wondering what he’s up to, and walk down to the glass-walled conference room. Grantham Wilks is already seated at the head of the table, laptop open, documents neatly fanned out like we’re about to sign a peace treaty—or declare war.

“Good morning,” I say, taking the seat opposite him. “What’s so urgent?” I look out toward Rhys and Austin’s offices, but there’s no sign of them.

He looks up. “We have a problem,” he says. “A serious one.”

Of course, we do. We have so many these days.

I lean back in my chair, shoulders tense. “I’m listening.”

Grantham slides a folder across the table. Heavy stock. Legal formatting. The kind of thing that never means anything good.

As I flip it open, the smell of burned coffee drifts in from the hallway. Figures .

I look again for Austin and Rhys. What’s taking them so long?

“Better start from the beginning,” I mutter, scanning the first page. Because whatever this is…it’s going to be one of those days.

I look up in time to see my temp grab her purse and exit down the stairs. “I’m sorry, Grantham. Can you give me a second?”

As I push open the conference room door, I swear I hear the phantom sigh of Mackenzie echo in my head—sharp, dry, disappointed.

I move down the hall, rapping once on Austin’s open office door. “Grantham’s here for the meeting.”

He doesn’t look up, just gives a short nod. “Got it. Be there in a sec.”

I find Rhys elbow-deep in some new prototype in the lab, wires everywhere, sparks flickering like he’s trying to reboot Frankenstein’s monster.

“Grantham’s here.”

He grunts. Something beeps. I move on.

On the way to the breakroom, the smell hits me again—burned coffee, acrid and bitter.

The machine sits smugly in the corner, its carafe half-full of a liquid that could likely strip paint.

“Trouble brewing?” Jeannie, our CFO, teases, sliding past me with a smirk.

I shake my head as I dump out the carafe, clean the basket, and start fresh. Soon the machine is burbling much more pleasantly.

“Think you could save the day and bring this to the conference room when it’s ready?” I ask her. “The temp…vanished. And she didn’t know how to make coffee anyway.”

She chuckles. “Temps.” Then she gives me a nod. No hesitation. No hand-holding. “Of course,” she says. “No problem.”

This is why she’s irreplaceable. She’s not someone hung up on her title; she jumps in and saves the day. Mackenzie was that way too , my brain offers helpfully.

With the coffee crisis handled, I grab the essentials—mugs, sugar, milk—and head back to the conference room.

Austin’s already there, reclining like he owns the place because, well, he does.

Rhys snickers, and they watch me set everything down.

“Look at you,” Austin says with a smirk. “Promoted to executive admin?”

“Yeah, laugh it up,” I mutter. “We could hire someone if anyone out there knew how to do more than panic and disappear.”

His smile fades. The room goes quiet.

“Where’s Mackenzie?” Grantham asks.

“She quit.” I place a mug in front of him.

“I need to talk to her,” he says.

“I’ll give you her number.” I sit down in my chair and try to refocus on the bomb that I sense is about to drop.

“The district attorney has called for a grand jury, and you all have been subpoenaed, as has Mackenzie.” Grantham looks around the table. “You’re not allowed to tell anyone you’ve been called, so it doesn’t leave this room.”

I nod. “Who are they looking at?”

“I would say it’s Crystal.”

I push a report from Jim across the table to Grantham. “Clear Security did a workup on Stan Richards, and we think the police and the district attorney will want to see this.”

The report was shocking. In addition to his role with Maloney Chemical, Stan Richards is CEO of an LLC that has contracts in China for electric vehicle batteries. There are several connecting points with Crystal that seem very suspicious.

The shift in Grantham’s posture is immediate. He straightens, eyes narrowing.

“What made you look into Stan Richards?” He flips through the report.

“Crystal called me a few weeks ago and announced that he was behind the fake batteries that caused those fires we dealt with two years ago.”

He looks at me, and I swear steam is coming from his ears. “Crystal called you weeks ago, and you’re just telling me now?”

“Well, we thought we should have Jim do some investigating,” I reply.

Grantham purses his lips. He’s not happy with me. “I get that, but why not let me know?”

I sigh. I don’t really have a good answer for that now. “We didn’t want to waste your time if Crystal was making it all up. I recorded the call, though. I wanted protection in case Crystal was recording it too.”

Grantham opens his mouth and then closes it, shaking his head.

“I know, I know,” I tell him. I feel ridiculous, but Crystal really got in my head. Sometimes, I don’t know what to believe.

I play the recording for him, and he listens closely. As it plays, I just feel even more stupid. She’s not remotely credible. Stan may be involved somehow, but likely not the way she said. How could I ever have believed what she told me?

“Okay,” Grantham says at the end. “I’ll need that recording. It could be critical, especially if it shows she’s trying to redirect blame. The prosecution will want to know everything she’s said, and we’ll need to get ahead of the narrative.”

“So what? You think this is her trying to lay the groundwork for an insanity plea or something?” Austin asks.

Grantham shrugs. “Hard to say. It could be desperation. Could be strategy. Either way, if she’s naming Stan Richards, and we can actually tie him to the battery fires and faulty sodium-ion cells, it gives the jury something to look at.”

“And what about us?” I ask. “If Crystal’s on the line, how far does the fallout reach?”

Grantham exhales. “That’s what we’re here to manage. As of now, none of you is being named as a target of the investigation, so let’s keep it that way. Your testimony will help—or hurt—depending on how we frame it.”

The room is quiet again.

“We have nothing to hide,” Rhys says after a moment.

“Then we act like it,” Grantham replies. “That means consistency. We respond when someone official asks, but no off-the-cuff press comments. No leaks. No one talks to the media unless it comes through my office. And if Crystal calls again, I’m your first call. Not Jim. Not Mason. Me , your lawyer. Understood?”

Everyone nods.

“I’ll email you the audio file,” I say. “Anything else?”

Grantham shakes his head, gathering the documents. “We’ll be contacted by the DA’s office to schedule your appearances. I’ll be there with you.”

I glance at the empty chair near the end of the table. Mackenzie’s chair.

She should’ve been here for this.

But maybe that’s the point. She got out just in time.

“Also, you should know,” Grantham says as he stands. “Due to a conflict of interest, I am no longer representing Crystal. I’ve given her a referral, as she needs someone solely focused on her case.”

There is a beat of stunned silence.

“What does that mean?” Austin asks. “Do we need to find a new attorney?”

Grantham shakes his head. “Not unless you want to fire me.” He looks around the room. “Look, the police are focused on her, and there’s more and more evidence that she’s been dishonest and perhaps even worse than that. So I can’t represent her if I’m representing you. She wasn’t returning my calls or information requests, so I referred her to another attorney, Nicole White.”

The name lands like a hammer. Nicole White is on the news all the time. She isn’t just any defense attorney. She’s calculated. Expensive. And when she steps into a courtroom, it’s to win—by any means necessary.

“What did Crystal say?” Austin asks.

“I haven’t been able to speak with her,” Grantham says. “She won’t call me back, so I left her a message, evidently about the time she called Theo.”

I nod. Perhaps that’s why she was losing it that day. Didn’t seem like she trusted Grantham anyway, but being fired by her attorney would certainly set her off.

“But you’re still our attorney?” Austin confirms.

“Yes.”

We all look at one another.

Rhys is the first to cut through the quiet. “Do you think they’ve got enough to bring her down?”

“They have something,” Grantham says. “Enough to convene a grand jury. That doesn’t mean a conviction, but it means momentum. And prosecutors don’t take this kind of step unless they’re confident.”

“And are they working with someone to bring Crystal home?”

Grantham’s expression hardens. “If they are, it’s without her knowledge. The call to Theo is the only thing I’ve heard about her reaching out to anyone. She’s either hiding or running.”

“Do we know if she hired Nicole White?” I ask. Crystal clearly needs a good lawyer, regardless of her guilt or innocence.

Grantham shakes his head. “I haven’t heard from her since I made the referral. White hasn’t confirmed anything either.”

Crystal’s out there somewhere, off the radar, off the leash…

Making her next move.

“Mason and Caroline Sullivan have also hired me,” Grantham says. “They retained me separately yesterday.”

The Sullivans? Mason is a board member and EnergiFusion’s funder.

“You didn’t think that was worth mentioning sooner?” Austin asks, his tone razor sharp.

Grantham’s eyes flick toward him. “Ethically, I couldn’t disclose it unless it became relevant.”

“What makes it relevant? Is it a conflict?” I ask.

Grantham shakes his head. “They’ve been approached by the police for interviews. Voluntary—for now. But the questions they’re being asked? The police are circling the board. They’re looking for cracks. Weak points.”

“Mason’s in the same place we are,” Rhys says, but his voice lacks conviction.

“You’re telling me we might be walking into a grand jury while our own board is being leveraged against us?” Austin asks.

“I’m telling you to be careful,” Grantham replies. “Lines are being drawn—some of them quietly. You need to be aligned, locked in, and above all, silent outside of this circle. Though I think Mason and Caroline can be part of your circle.” He looks at each of us, without speaking further.

Then he rises and steps toward the door of the conference room. None of us move.

“Send me the call with Crystal,” he tells me. “And I’ll be reaching out to Mackenzie. Make sure she knows she needs to talk to me.”

And then he’s gone.

Austin blows out a breath. “Well. That was subtle.”

“We need to get together tonight.” I look at Austin and Rhys, daring them to disagree.

“Do you want to go back to Bourbon & Branch?” Austin asks.

“No, why don’t we all converge at my place? Your drivers can drop you in the garage. Bring your wives. I’ll reach out to Mackenzie and also figure out some kind of dinner.”

“I think Grantham told us about Mason and Caroline because they’ve been called by the grand jury as well.” Rhys stands. “He just can’t come right out and say it.”

I look at him, gobsmacked. He’s right. We should include them in this discussion. “Thanks. I hadn’t thought about that.”

I walk back toward my office. The phone is ringing, and there’s no one at the desk. Fantastic .

I reach out to Mason, and he’s quick to agree to come over this evening with Caroline. He tells me they’ll bring dinner, which is amazing, as that’s one less thing I have to worry about.

Then I have to call Mackenzie. I’ve delayed reaching out long enough. I don’t know if calling her will fix this, but for the first time, it doesn’t feel optional. I have a reason to speak to her other than just what I want.

Her voicemail picks up, but I hesitate at the beep. I hate hearing her voice when it’s recorded instead of real.

“Hey,” I finally manage. “It’s Theo.”

I scrub a hand over my face, trying to find the right words, but there are none that don’t sound like regret.

“I know you don’t owe me anything, not your time, not your help. But things are moving fast. They’ve convened a grand jury for Justin’s murder. Crystal’s still underground, it looks like Stan Richards really could be involved, and now, the police are interviewing all of our board members. You’ve been subpoenaed through Grantham, as have all the founders. Though we’re not supposed to talk about it. Oops.”

I swallow hard.

“Anyway, Grantham wanted to be sure you knew to answer when he calls you, and I’m also letting you know that we’re getting together at my place tonight to discuss this grand jury thing.”

I pause, listening to my own breath in the quiet. There’s so much to say, and my thoughts are about as organized as a box of rocks.

“Levi’s lucky to have you,” I tell her voicemail. “So am I, even if I didn’t say it when it mattered. And rest assured, the company will pay for Grantham to continue as your attorney. Please come over tonight. We’re going to prepare together—”

The voicemail clicks off before I can say more.

I set the phone down, resting my hands on the edge of my desk, bracing myself.

Because tonight, the gloves come off. And whether Mackenzie joins us or not, we go to war.