Chapter 4 - THE WOMAN PAIGE WAS REALLY WORKING FOR
By noon, Harper had three lawyers.
She hated all of them.
Not personally.
Professionally.
She hated being on the client side.
“Stop reading over my shoulder,” said Nadia Patel.
Nadia was Sarah’s recommendation.
Former federal prosecutor.
White-collar defense.
Civil fraud.
Forty-one.
Zero patience.
Harper leaned back.
“I’m helping.”
“You’re interfering.”
“I am also a lawyer.”
“You are also a witness.”
“Alleged witness.”
Nadia stared.
Harper stopped.
“Fine.”
They sat in Nadia’s office overlooking the river.
Sarah beside Harper.
Roman had not come.
Good.
This needed boundaries.
The morning had produced three developments.
First:
Hale Whitmore’s internal counsel issued a formal litigation hold covering the South Loop project.
That was good.
Second:
Connor retained personal criminal counsel.
That was interesting.
Third:
Paige Mercer called Harper.
That was insane.
Her voicemail said:
We need to talk before Connor finds out I called.
Harper had listened six times.
Sarah said:
“Trap.”
Nadia said:
“Probably.”
Harper said:
“Still taking it.”
They arranged a meeting at Nadia’s office.
Paige arrived at 1:30 wearing sunglasses, jeans, and no visible jewelry except the diamond bracelet Connor had given her.
Harper noticed.
Of course she did.
Paige sat.
Looked at Sarah.
Then Nadia.
“Who are they?”
“My attorneys.”
Sarah smiled.
“And emotional support.”
“No,” Harper said.
Sarah looked offended.
Paige removed her glasses.
She looked exhausted.
“What do you want?” Harper asked.
Paige glanced toward the door.
“Connor can’t know.”
“Then start talking.”
“He didn’t tell me what the land deal was.”
Harper’s expression remained still.
“Which land deal?”
“The warehouse.”
“So you know.”
“Now.”
“How?”
“I heard him on the phone last night.”
“With who?”
“Daniel Kessler.”
Nadia began writing.
Paige continued.
“They were arguing about metadata.”
Harper’s pulse changed.
“What did Connor say?”
“That you were supposed to take the hit if anyone ever questioned the vote.”
Silence.
Paige started crying.
Harper felt nothing.
Not yet.
“What exactly did he say?”
“‘Harper’s approval closes the issue. She was a trustee and benefited from the trust’s reputation.’”
Harper’s hands became fists beneath the table.
“Benefited how?”
“I don’t know.”
Paige wiped her face.
“He said because you used the trust work in your professional biography.”
Sarah whispered:
“That is psychotic.”
Nadia silenced her with a look.
Harper said:
“Why are you telling me?”
Paige laughed bitterly.
“Because I finally realized I’m next.”
That was honest.
Harper leaned back.
“Explain.”
Connor had changed after the gala.
Not jealousy.
Panic.
He blamed Paige for insisting they attend.
Interesting.
“I insisted?”
Paige nodded.
“He didn’t want to go.”
Harper froze.
That contradicted everything.
“Why did you?”
Paige looked ashamed.
“Someone encouraged me.”
“Who?”
“My boss.”
Harper frowned.
“You work for Mercer Public Strategy.”
“Yes.”
Paige was not simply a twenty-five-year-old socialite.
She worked in political communications.
Her father founded the firm.
“Who is your boss?”
“Eleanor Shaw.”
Harper knew the name.
Crisis strategist.
Reputation management.
Hale Whitmore had used her.
“Why did she want you at the benefit?”
“She said Connor needed to establish the relationship publicly.”
“Why?”
“Because rumors about the breakup were hurting him.”
Harper stared.
Connor’s story.
Harper unstable.
Paige softer.
It had not developed organically.
It had been managed.
“Did Shaw tell you to approach me?”
Paige swallowed.
“Yes.”
Sarah muttered:
“I knew it.”
Harper looked at Paige.
“And you agreed.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I was stupid.”
“No.”
Harper’s voice hardened.
“You were cruel.”
Paige flinched.
“Say the right word.”
“I was cruel.”
Good.
“And the perfume in my apartment?”
Paige looked down.
“I wanted you to know.”
That hurt more than Harper expected.
Not because Connor cheated.
Because Paige had intentionally left evidence.
“Why?”
“I thought if you confronted him, he would leave you faster.”
Harper stared for several seconds.
“Thank you for the honesty.”
Paige looked surprised.
“That is not forgiveness.”
“I know.”
“Continue.”
Eleanor Shaw worked for Hale Whitmore on more than image.
She advised investor communications for South Loop.
After Harper discovered the affair, Shaw told Connor the breakup created “reputational exposure.”
Because Harper’s name appeared in trust records.
Harper’s stomach turned.
There it was.
The relationship was not only personal anymore.
Connor needed Harper discredited before the land issue surfaced.
“Did you know about my electronic approval?”
“No.”
“The trust?”
“I knew you had some connection.”
“Who told you?”
“Connor.”
“Before or after the affair?”
Paige hesitated.
“Before.”
Harper stopped breathing.
“How long before?”
“Months.”
The affair had started seven months earlier.
Connor had been discussing Harper’s trust role with Paige before sleeping with her.
Why?
Paige continued:
“He said you were too rigid.”
Sarah made a face.
“He said you were becoming a problem on South Loop.”
Harper went cold.
“Problem?”
“He said if you ever learned the buyer structure, you’d create drama.”
Nadia asked:
“Did he say why?”
“Conflict rules.”
Harper looked at Sarah.
Connor had known.
All along.
Paige continued.
“He said he needed someone who understood his world.”
There it was.
The affair itself had become entangled with business.
Paige worked in reputation strategy.
Connor had a land deal linked to Harper.
He chose a mistress whose firm could manage public fallout.
Maybe not deliberately.
Maybe.
The idea was nauseating.
“Did your firm create talking points about me?”
Paige said nothing.
Harper’s face hardened.
“Paige.”
“Yes.”
Sarah stood.
Nadia snapped:
“Sit.”
Sarah sat.
Barely.
Harper’s voice remained controlled.
“What did they say?”
Paige took out her phone.
Opened a file.
Sent it to Nadia.
Title:
HB PERSONAL RESPONSE FRAMEWORK.
Harper stared.
Her initials.
Talking points:
— High-pressure legal career created long-term relationship strain.
— Connor attempted private reconciliation repeatedly.
— Harper increasingly suspicious and emotionally volatile.
— New relationship developed only after practical end of engagement.
— Avoid direct criticism; emphasize compassion.
— If challenged publicly, do not engage facts. Express concern for Harper’s well-being.
Harper stopped breathing.
Six weeks.
Every mutual friend.
Every sympathetic call.
Every “Connor tried.”
It had been messaging.
Professional.
Designed.
Sarah looked ready to commit a felony.
Nadia remained frighteningly calm.
“Who drafted this?”
Paige whispered:
“Eleanor.”
“Approved by?”
“Connor.”
Harper looked away.
The breakup had hurt.
The affair had hurt.
But this?
He had turned her personality into opposition research.
Then Nadia asked:
“Why are you turning this over now?”
Paige looked at Harper.
“Because there’s a second file.”
Silence.
“What second file?”
Paige unlocked her phone again.
HB ESCALATION.
Harper’s stomach dropped.
Nadia opened it.
If Harper challenges South Loop transaction:
— Emphasize personal hostility toward Connor.
— Highlight romantic rejection.
— Question objectivity due to Falco association if applicable.
Harper froze.
“If applicable?”
Paige nodded.
“That was added this morning.”
Roman.
Connor was already preparing to claim Harper and Roman conspired against him.
The file continued:
— Consider bar complaint based on conflict if Harper uses confidential relationship information.
— Identify trust governance failures attributable to Harper.
— Media placement: “Charity lawyer turned financier’s revenge campaign.”
Sarah whispered:
“I am going to kill him legally.”
Nadia nodded.
“That is the only acceptable adverb.”
Paige then said:
“There’s something else.”
Of course.
“Connor told Daniel Kessler to find the original Bennett side letter.”
Harper’s pulse spiked.
“Where?”
“He thinks you have it.”
“I don’t.”
“He doesn’t believe that.”
“What is he planning?”
“I don’t know.”
Then Paige reached into her bag.
She took out a small flash drive.
“I copied Connor’s South Loop folder.”
Nadia did not touch it.
“Why?”
“Insurance.”
Harper stared.
“You’ve been sleeping with a man and building insurance against him?”
Paige laughed bitterly.
“You taught me something without knowing it.”
“What?”
“He always said you asked too many questions.”
Her smile collapsed.
“I started asking them.”
Nadia called a forensic specialist.
Chain of custody.
No amateur opening.
Good.
Paige signed a statement about how she obtained the copy.
Harper asked:
“Does Connor know you’re here?”
“No.”
“Where does he think you are?”
“At my apartment.”
“Are you safe?”
Paige looked surprised by the question.
“So?”
“Are you?”
“I don’t know.”
Harper hated that answer.
Connor was manipulative.
Fraud potentially.
But violent?
Never.
At least she had never seen it.
Still, panic changes people.
Nadia arranged independent security.
Not Roman’s.
That mattered.
When Paige left, Sarah stared at Harper.
“You were nice.”
“No.”
“You asked if she was safe.”
“That is basic humanity.”
“She left earrings under your bed.”
“People can be terrible and still not deserve danger.”
Nadia nodded.
“Keep that sentence. It plays well to juries.”
Harper glared.
Then her phone buzzed.
Roman.
One text:
You okay?
No demand.
No request for information.
Harper answered:
No. But working on it.
Roman:
Good answer.
Then:
Dinner later? No strategy. No Connor. No business.
She stared.
Sarah leaned over.
“Say yes.”
“Stop reading.”
“Say yes.”
Harper thought about the kiss.
About trust.
About boundaries.
About Roman being perhaps the only person in the ballroom who saw Connor’s performance immediately.
Then she typed:
One hour. Public restaurant. I pick.
Roman:
Cruel.
Harper:
Yes or no?
Roman:
Yes.
She smiled.
Sarah saw.
“Oh, this is going to be catastrophic.”
“Why?”
“Because you like him.”
“I do not.”
Nadia looked up from the evidence log.
“You smiled at your phone after learning your ex built a crisis-communications dossier against you.”
Harper stared.
Nadia returned to typing.
“I was a prosecutor. I notice things.”
The dinner happened at a tiny Thai restaurant in Wicker Park.
No private room.
No Falco property.
Roman arrived alone.
Actually alone.
Harper checked.
“You’re disappointed.”
“Suspicious.”
“Healthy.”
They ordered.
For twenty minutes, neither mentioned Connor.
Roman asked about Harper’s father.
Not the trust.
The man.
She told him David Bennett once represented a tenant for free for eighteen months because the landlord kept appealing.
“He won?”
“Yes.”
“Did he get paid?”
“Eventually.”
“How?”
“The client gave him a toaster.”
Roman looked horrified.
“It was a good toaster.”
“Your family is strange.”
“Yours is rumored to bury people.”
Roman paused.
“Also strange.”
Harper laughed.
It felt wrong.
Then good.
After dinner, Roman walked her outside.
No kiss.
That surprised her.
“Good night.”
“Good night.”
He stepped back.
Harper said:
“That’s it?”
Roman’s eyes sharpened.
“What were you expecting?”
“Nothing.”
“Liar.”
She crossed her arms.
He smiled.
Then his phone buzzed.
He read.
Smile gone.
“What?”
“Julian.”
“And?”
“Someone just tried to access Falco’s due-diligence server using credentials connected to Hale Whitmore’s outside counsel.”
Harper’s stomach tightened.
“Daniel Kessler.”
“Possibly.”
“What were they looking for?”
Roman held her gaze.
“Your file.”
Her pulse changed.
“Why would you have a file on me?”
“Three-year-old litigation archive.”
“That’s not what they want.”
“No.”
“What else?”
Roman looked almost annoyed.
“Background material.”
Harper went cold.
“You investigated me.”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“After the gala kiss.”
Anger flashed.
“Why?”
“Because Connor’s behavior told me you might be connected to South Loop.”
“That is not the same as permission to investigate my life.”
“No.”
“You did exactly what Connor did.”
Roman’s face changed.
She continued.
“You turned me into information.”
“I was assessing exposure.”
“I am not exposure.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
Silence.
Harper stepped back.
“One hour was enough.”
“Harper.”
“No.”
She looked at him.
“You wanted trust?”
“Yes.”
“Then stop deciding that power gives you permission to know things I did not choose to tell you.”
Roman did not argue.
That almost made her angrier.
“You’re right.”
She stopped.
No defense.
No explanation.
Just:
“You’re right.”
He continued.
“I should have told you.”
“Yes.”
“I should have asked before keeping anything beyond public case records.”
“Yes.”
“I’ll have the personal file deleted.”
She narrowed her eyes.
“With preservation if relevant to South Loop.”
“Your lawyer can supervise.”
That was better.
Still not enough tonight.
“I’m leaving.”
He nodded.
No attempt to stop her.
Harper walked away.
Then Roman said:
“I meant what I said at dinner.”
She turned.
“What?”
“I want to know your father because you tell me.”
His voice lowered.
“Not because someone reports him.”
Harper looked at him for a long second.
Then left.
Across town, Connor Hale sat in his office staring at a security notice.
Someone had downloaded his private South Loop folder.
He checked access logs.
Paige.
His face went still.
Then he opened his phone.
Her location sharing was off.
Connor stared at the screen.
May you like
And for the first time since the ballroom, he realized he was losing control not only of Harper.
But of the woman he had used to replace her.
