“I stopped in Morton on my trip back yesterday.”
“Where?”
“Morton, Indiana. Hugo’s ValuCenter hired us to convince the town to let them build there. Y’all brought me in to do the pitch on behalf of the clients.”
“Okay. That was one of the first jobs we partnered on. So?”
“So the infrastructure of local businesses has been gutted. The downtown is all but dead because they completely violated their promise of non-competition in multiple areas. The promise I made the townspeople in good faith when I did the pitch.”
Pierce’s expression softened and he crossed to her. “Is that what’s got you upset? Sure it sucks for them, but you didn’t do anything wrong. It’s business, and if the town didn’t get a non-compete clause ironclad in the legal stuff, that’s on them. It happens. It still has nothing to do with you. You did your job. We both did.”
She spun away when he tried to pull her into his arms. “That’s the problem.”
“I don’t follow.”
Trembling with rage, Norah reached for the file on her desk, tossing it toward him. The contents spilled across the surface, onto the floor. Headlines jumped out in glaring black and white, damning Hugo’s business practices, outing their impact on other small towns in other parts of the country. A stack of bad publicity that proved the company had never meant a word of the promises she’d made on their behalf. Publicity she hadn’t seen when they brought her in at the last minute to do the pitch on behalf of Hugo’s.
“You knew. You were the one who did due diligence on this job. You knew before I ever made the presentation, and you didn’t tell me.”
Pierce eased a hip back on the credenza and crossed his arms. “You’re right. I didn’t tell you.”
“Why?”
“Because I knew you wouldn’t do the job if you were aware of the company’s…shall we say, checkered past.”
“Of course I wouldn’t have done it. It’s an ethics violation, Pierce! We—or, at least, you—were aware that this company could seriously damage that community, and you said nothing.”
He shrugged. “It was a huge account, and the firm couldn’t afford to lose it over your moral compass. So I gave you an edited version of the company’s plans. It worked. The client was happy. And you were well on your way to this corner office. End of story.”
“You manipulated me.”
“Norah, you’re really blowing this out of proportion—”
“Am I? Am I really? How often did you do this? How many times have you fed me a revised version of the truth and sent me in to lie to people?” She knew her voice was rising and struggled to find some control.
“Hey now, what is going on in here?” Philip Vargas, founder and CEO of Helios stepped through the door. “I can hear you from down the hall.”
Norah turned to face her boss. “Philip, I am sorry to inform you that your son has committed a serious ethics violation. At least once, perhaps more, in the name of profit. And he dragged me in as an unwitting accomplice.”
Philip gave an exaggerated sigh. “This is why we didn’t tell you. You’re our best closer. We couldn’t have your over-developed conscience getting in the way.”
She gaped at him. “We? You knew?”
“Of course, I knew. I know everything that goes on in my company. I know what assets I have and how best to use them.”
Use. The word rang in her head. She was an asset. Never before had that word made her feel cheap.
Philip continued, “You happen to have an element of southern charm to go along with that keen mind. Clients eat it up. You do your job and you do it damned well. We just keep you informed about what you need to know to get the job done without you having hysterics over things like truth, justice, and the American way.” The derision in his tone felt like acid.
With a dawning horror, Norah realized that neither Philip, nor Pierce, nor the company she’d devoted her life to for the last six years were who she thought they were. She was the only one in the room with an ounce of integrity. She squared her shoulders. “I won’t be party to that kind of manipulation again.”
Philip shrugged in a gesture so redolent of Pierce only minutes before, Norah felt her head spin. “Fine. You’re fired.”
Norah’s mouth dropped open.
“For every award you’ve won in this company’s name, there are dozens of hungry young neophytes dying for your job. You’re replaceable. And if you bother spreading this little story, you can be sure I’ll blackball you. You won’t ever work in this business again. Think about that while you’re standing in line for unemployment.”
She looked to Pierce, but he said nothing, looking disgusted by her behavior. A year and a half wasted on a man who couldn’t be bothered to defend her. “We’re through.”