Sarah was away from her desk by the time I reached Nate’s office. His door stood open, but I tapped lightly anyway.
“Come in and shut the door behind you,” Nate commanded.
I stepped inside. Just as I thought, Nate was not alone. But it wasn’t Willow. Sitting in the chair across from Nate was Jonathan. I felt a small ping of trepidation. Jonathan sat in one of Nate’s guest chairs, legs crossed, wearing a pin-striped suit and the smug demeanor of a pompous jerk. He slid a thumb and forefinger along the crease of his pants. “Good morning, Ellice,” he said. “Did you do something different with your hair?”
Asshole.
Nate nodded toward the chair beside Jonathan. I chose to stand. “Ellice, Jonathan tells me you’ve been too busy to meet with him about the Libertad matter. Something about not preparing some paperwork.” Jonathan had left two messages for me yesterday, telling me I needed to draft some contracts for him. I ignored both messages.
“I have some very serious concerns about this deal.” I was talking to Nate, but I stared at Jonathan. “I believe Libertad is involved in laundering dirty money. That’s a violation of federal law. As a lawyer, I can’t ethically stand behind whatever deal you may be planning with Libertad.”
“I see.” Nate gave me a long unblinking stare. Jonathan didn’t say a word.
I thumbed the side of the folder. “Nate, I know that having me on your team . . . that the circumstances of my brother’s death . . . are . . . it can send the wrong message. The focus should be on running Houghton, not my personal problems. I’m resigning. I don’t want to bring any unnecessary attention to the company. Here’s my resignation.” I removed the paper and slid it across Nate’s desk.
Nate never looked at the paper; instead, he looked at Jonathan, then back at me with a sad plea in his eyes. “I’d rather you didn’t. Darlin’， that’s not what this is about.”
For a moment, I assumed he would try to convince me to stay on board. “I appreciate the support, Nate, but I think it’s best that I leave the company. I need some time to sort—”
“I’m sorry, but no. You can’t resign.” His voice was firm, but not harsh. This went beyond a supportive gesture. He was ordering me not to resign; I didn’t have a say in the matter. This would not be a repeat of my promotion to the executive suite. I was free to leave if I wanted.
“What do you mean I can’t resign?”
Nate stared back at me in confusion, then turned to Jonathan, eyes pleading again. He’d gotten himself lost in the conversation and was looking to Jonathan to rescue him. Nate needed medical attention, not corporate babysitters.
“What Nate is trying to say is that we need a top lawyer in place. And right now, that’s you. There’s a lot going on. So you need to go back to your office and draft several documents. We need an agreement that outlines—”
“You don’t get it, do you, Jonathan?” I turned to Nate, hoping to make a direct plea. “Nate, I’m sorry. I can’t do that. I would be complicit in illegal activity. I could get disbarred. All of us—me, you, and Jonathan—could go to jail. I can’t do that. So you really need to accept my resignation.” I pushed the paper a bit closer toward Nate. I glared at Jonathan, his expression still smug and confident.
Nate leaned forward and scratched his head.
Jonathan looked down at his Rolex, then piped up. “Take a seat, Ellice. You might want to hear us out for a minute.”
“I’m done here! You two can go to jail without me.” I headed for the door.
Jonathan cleared his throat before he spoke. “I was just telling Nate, there’ve been some developments in Sayles’s murder investigation. I understand the police have questioned you a couple of times about Sayles’s murder. They seem to think you might be involved in this thing with your brother and that other lawyer they found dead. What’s his name . . . Gallagher?”
I stopped and turned around. Tendrils of fear slithered through me.
Nate chimed in. “I know you couldn’t have done these heinous things. Jonathan tells me you may to go to prison for murder?”
“Nate, I had nothing to do with any of this.” I marched back toward Jonathan. “You did this! You set me up.”
Jonathan gave me a sly smile and threw his hands up in a gesture of surrender. It was when I looked at his raised hands that I saw it. The small little symbol of hate in the form of a lapel pin. The Brethren lapel pin. “Ellice, think about it. Losing your law license is going to be the least of your worries if this thing plays out the way the police have it down. Right now, your best option is to work with me on this.”