Page 60 of Billionaire Corruption

“Are you all right?” I asked.

“No, not really,” she laughed nervously and took her sunglasses off. “I just got fired.”

“What?”

“Yeah!” she laughed again, shakily. “Didn’t see that coming!”

“By… Paul?”

She made a derogatory sound. “Yeah… fucker.”

Then, she added, “Sorry.”

I shook my head. “That’s ok, I get it. I don’t mean to pry, but… why?”

“There’s been some leak of information from the company,” Alana said bitterly. “There is so much going on there now at the moment. I think he doesn’t trust anyone. Had to blame someone, I guess.”

She looked at me, closely. “Are you guys… together? Because I could have sworn I heard your voice when I called him over the weekend?”

“Yeah, it was me,” I remembered the call as we were heading out to the coffee shop. “It’s complicated,” I said.

Alana gave another chortle. “Oh, it always is with him.”

My heart sank. This was not the kind of conversation I wanted to have today.

“I’ll tell you what will happen with Ladden,” Alana said. “They’ll sack the executive, get a new board. But the chairman and CEO will stay. Brock and Paul. Like evil twins,” she laughed gleefully. “Or cockroaches surviving a nuclear catastrophe.”

I suddenly asked her, “You think Paul knew about all the fake accounts and the dodgy deals in South America?”

Alana looked at me hard and long. “Oh, honey. Of course, he knew. Cut your losses while you can. Get out and live your life,” she said, putting her sunglasses back on.

“That’s what I’m doing.”

I watched her leave, staring down the road for some time after she’d gone.

I wanted to get out of New York and as far away from Ladden as possible.

Chapter 24

Paul

After work, I went to Elise’s.

I texted her that I was coming, to prepare her.

Even so, as I rang her doorbell, I had the feeling she wasn’t prepared for me. Dressed in pajamas, her hair in a ponytail, her trendy Soho apartment was a mess. A music channel was on the TV, playing videos.

“I won’t be long,” I said looking around her living room.

“Sorry about this,” she said, rolling her eyes. “I had a friend over. She just left.”

I had the feeling she was lying to me, but I was too tired to confront her.

“I want to ask you some things about Dad,” I said.

“Beer?” she asked and went to the fridge.

I sat down on her couch, moving some clothes and magazines out of the way.

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