Chapter 12 - Karen
Karen Voss was fifty-one, blonde, and wearing a suit that cost more than my first car. She walked into reception at ten on a Wednesday morning and asked for me by name. Sarah called me, startled. I told her to send Karen in.
She sat down across from my desk. She didn't waste time.
"Mr. Cole," she said. "I'm divorcing Richard. And I need to tell you something. Because if I don't, and it comes out later, you'll wonder why no one warned you."
I leaned forward. "Go on."
"Richard didn't borrow forty thousand dollars from Voss & Palmer to pay for my mother's medical bills. My mother died ten years ago. She had excellent insurance. There were no bills."
The room went very quiet.
"The money," Karen continued, "went to a woman named Marisol Reyes. She's — she was Richard's assistant. Three years ago. He got her pregnant. He paid for her apartment, her medical bills, her — everything. Forty thousand dollars over two years. When Diane found the discrepancy, Richard told you it was my mother. He lied. To you. To Diane. To me."
I stared at her. "You're sure about this."
"I have the bank records. I have the text messages. I have the paternity test — Richard took it last month. The boy is two years old. His name is Ethan. Richard is his father."
She set a manila envelope on my desk. "I'm giving you copies. Because if you're going to keep employing my husband, you should know who he really is. And because —" Her voice cracked. "Because I spent twenty-five years married to a man who lied to me about everything. And I don't want anyone else to be fooled by him."
She stood up. She walked to the door. Then she stopped.
"He's good at it, you know. The apology. The change of heart. He's been doing it for twenty-five years. Don't believe him."
She left.
I sat there for a long time, staring at the envelope. I didn't open it. I didn't need to. Karen Voss had no reason to lie. And Richard — Richard had lied before. About the money. About why he'd borrowed it. About who he was.
I called Marcus. I told him. There was a long silence.
"Fire him," Marcus said. "Today. Probation just ended, but we've got cause — he lied on his application. He didn't disclose the embezzlement. He —"
"No," I said. "Not yet."
"Dan —"
"Not yet. I want to talk to him first. I want to hear him say it. And then — then we decide."
I called Richard. He was out at a property tour. I told him to get back to the office immediately. He was there in twenty minutes, out of breath, his tie loose.
"Dan, what is —"
I slid the manila envelope across the desk. "Your wife was here. She told me about Marisol Reyes. About Ethan. About the forty thousand dollars. About the fact that your mother-in-law died ten years ago."
Richard's face went white. He sat down. He didn't say anything.
"Look at me," I said.
He looked up. His eyes were empty.
"Is it true?"
He closed his eyes. "Yes."
I sat back. I felt — not anger. Not betrayal. Just a deep, weary sadness. I'd wanted to believe he could change. I'd wanted to believe that the apology was real. And it had been a performance. All of it.
"Richard," I said. "You're fired. Effective immediately. Security will escort you out. You'll receive your final paycheck in the mail. Don't come back. Don't call. Don't email. If you contact anyone at this company, I will have you arrested for trespassing. Do we understand each other?"
He nodded. He stood up. He walked to the door.
"Dan," he said, without turning around. "I'm sorry."
"I know you are," I said. "You're sorry you got caught."
He left. I heard him say goodbye to Sarah — polite, even. I heard the elevator doors close. And then I picked up the phone and called Claire.
She answered on the first ring. "Dan? What's wrong?"
"Karen Voss was here," I said. "Richard has a two-year-old son with his former assistant. The forty thousand wasn't medical bills. It was hush money. He lied to us. To everyone. I fired him."
Claire was quiet. Then she said, very quietly, "I told you not to let your guard down."
"I know," I said. "I know you did."
May you like
I hung up. I sat in my office, alone, and I thought about second chances. And I thought about how some people don't want them. They just want another chance to get away with it.
