Westley You Are Late Chapter 31
The investigation was more rigorous than I had expected.
The next day, the client asked me to present the project’s entire history from the beginning.
The conference room was packed.
Someone projected Sofia’s post onto the screen and asked me, “Did Mr. Sinclair provide you with any proprietary information?”
“No.”
“He was your main competitor. Why did he withdraw from the running after you were married?”
I didn’t answer for Thatcher.
Instead, I brought up the first version of my proposal.
“This is the date I began working on the project.”
Then came my ER discharge papers.
That time I had worked myself to the point of collapse, and still came home to revise another draft the very next day.
Only after presenting all of that did I display the public record of my marriage to Thatcher.
Side by side, the timeline was crystal clear.
“The project was more than halfway complete before I even knew him.”
Then I opened the records for the later revisions.
“After he withdrew, I completed the final presentation on my own. Every judge in this room was there to see it.”
Someone asked, “Can your husband testify to that?”
“Yes.”
I paused.
“But I would prefer to ask for his testimony last.”
The man who asked seemed surprised.
“Why?”
“Because the accusation was made against me.”
I looked at the slanderous sentence on the screen.
“So I will answer it with my own work first.”
The meeting lasted three hours.
By the time I walked out, it was already dark.
Thatcher was leaning against his car, waiting.
He didn’t ask about the investigation. He just handed me a hot coffee.
“Are you hungry?”
I took the cup.
“Why didn’t you ask if I needed help?”
“Because you didn’t ask for it.”
He opened the car door for me.
“But if you say the word, I’m here.”
I didn’t move.
He turned to look at me.
“What is it?”
“Did someone upset you?”
“No.”
I leaned my head against his shoulder.
“I just suddenly realized my taste in men used to be terrible.”
He laughed.
“And now?”
“It’s passing, I guess.”
He caught my chin, tilting my face up to his.
“Just passing?”
I didn’t answer.
Once the car door closed, he didn’t give me another chance to.