Chapter 20: The Fence

The groundbreaking was set for ten on Saturday morning, on a bare lot on Manhattan's West Side.

A white tent stood at the edge of the pit with two hundred folding chairs inside it.

Cameras lined the fence.

My lawyer, the tall woman in the gray coat, met me at the gate with a banker's box in both arms.

"It came at eight," she said. "A courier from Aspinwall Capital. Everything on your list."

I lifted the lid.

The first sheet was a signed statement on Aspinwall letterhead, admitting to eleven refusals sent in my name.

Under it lay a flash drive, a list of passwords in Porter's slanting hand, and a thin envelope.

I opened the envelope.

It held a dark blue box.

The cufflinks were inside, and a card: These were always yours.

I shut the lid.

"Do you want them filed?" my lawyer asked.

"I'll keep the box."

She nodded and went to find her seat.

Rhys was standing by the tent flap with his hands in his pockets and no tie.

Behind him stood fifty people in hard hats and Costello badges.

I knew every one of them.

They were the engineers and analysts from Aspinwall Capital who had done the work and never got credit.

"We put in our notice together on Thursday," Rhys said. "Your offer stands, right?"

"It stands."

"Byron signed fifty offer letters before breakfast." He gave a crooked smile. "I helped."

The widow had a front-row seat and a gold-painted shovel across her knees.

She was holding court with two investors and not enjoying it.

Byron came to the podium at ten sharp, in a dark suit with the jaw finally healed.

Keep reading free with an account. Start The Woman He Traded Is Now His Equal from Chapter 1, then sign up free to read the rest of this chapter.