Chapter 12 - THE LEAK INSIDE LARKSPUR
The leak was not Caroline.
I knew that before the investigation finished.
She offered her devices anyway.
So did I.
Senior counsel.
Communications.
Atlas representatives.
Within two days, we found it.
A junior scheduling coordinator named Derek Moss had access to embargoed press logistics.
He had no relationship with Marcus.
But he had a relationship with Owen.
Fantasy football.
Of all things.
Owen casually asked when “Alexandra’s big announcement” might happen.
Derek bragged.
Said Thanksgiving.
Did not know why it mattered.
No money changed hands.
No conspiracy.
Just ego.
One careless sentence.
That was enough.
Derek admitted it.
We disciplined him.
Did not destroy his career.
He had made a serious mistake, not sold secrets.
Security protocols changed.
The important part was elsewhere.
Owen knew Thanksgiving was the deadline.
So he increased pressure on Marcus.
Marcus increased pressure on my parents.
My parents increased pressure on me.
The dinner became a chain reaction engineered by people who each believed they were acting for different reasons.
Marcus wanted rescue.
Dad wanted family stability.
Mom wanted peace.
Jennifer wanted to support her husband.
Owen wanted money.
And I—
wanted everyone to stop asking me why my life did not look impressive enough.
The secret was not one mastermind.
It was a system where every person gave the next person permission to cross a line.
That realization changed how I handled what came next.
Owen’s civil settlement returned additional funds.
Marcus’s remaining company survived.
Barely.
He was not CEO.
A restructuring firm remained in control.
He worked business development.
No personal guarantees.
No family letters.
Every investor disclosure reviewed by counsel.
Humiliating.
Healthy.
Jennifer’s divorce finalized.
She kept her practice.
Months later, she invited me to coffee.
“I bought a smaller car.”
I laughed.
“Why?”
“I didn’t need the Mercedes.”
“You’re allowed to like nice cars.”
“I know.”
She smiled.
“I just realized I’d bought it because Marcus liked what it said.”
That sounded familiar.
“I still like the bracelet.”
“Keep the bracelet.”
“I plan to.”
Good.
People did not need to become ascetics after learning money could lie.
They only needed to stop using objects as character references.
My parents adjusted to condo life.
Dad hated the shared garage.
Mom loved not cleaning four bathrooms.
They paid their own bills.
Never asked me for help.
That almost became another problem.
When Dad needed surgery and refused to tell me because he did not want to “ask for anything,” I got angry.
“Boundaries are not exile.”
I told him.
He stared.
“That sounds like something from therapy.”
“It is.”
We laughed.
I drove him to the hospital.
He paid his own deductible.
Healthy relationships, apparently, were less dramatic.
Then Marcus called one night.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Yes.”
“Not for money.”
“Excellent opening.”
He laughed.
Actually laughed.
“I got offered a job.”
“Where?”
“Denver.”
“Doing what?”
“Commercial acquisitions.”
“That’s your field.”
“Yes.”
“Why hesitate?”
“Lower title.”
“What title?”
“Vice president.”
I laughed.
“You were CEO of a collapsing company.”
“I know.”
“Vice president of a functioning one sounds like promotion.”
He was quiet.
Then:
“That’s why I called.”
“What?”
“You don’t automatically make me feel better.”
“No.”
“But you make me stop lying to myself.”
That was perhaps the nicest thing my brother had ever said.
He accepted the job.
Sold his interest in the remaining project under supervision.
Moved to Denver.
Started over.
Then, one week before Thanksgiving the following year, Mom sent a family group text.
DINNER AT OUR CONDO. SMALL THIS YEAR.
Marcus replied:
CAN ALEXANDRA AFFORD THE FLIGHT?
I stared at the message.
Then laughed.
May you like
Because for the first time—
I knew he was making fun of himself.
