Chapter 3 — The Cost of a Sentence
By the time Margot returned to the upper floor, her communications director was waiting outside her office with a new report.
“It’s escalating,” he said.
“Of course it is.”
“Not just the clip. People are digging.”
Margot set the paper boat on her desk without looking at it. “About what?”
He hesitated.
“That maintenance worker. Hayden Wexler.”
Something tightened in her chest.
“Employment records don’t match the background he claimed. There’s a gap. Two years unaccounted for before he joined Ellington Maritime.”
Margot leaned back slowly.
“That’s not unusual for contractors.”
“It’s not just that,” he said carefully. “There’s also a custody arrangement. Sealed at county level. One child. No listed mother.”
Margot finally looked up.
“And?”
“And someone is asking why a man with that profile is working maintenance in a building like yours.”
The implication was clear.
She had not insulted a man.
She had exposed him.
Margot dismissed him with a gesture, but after he left, she remained seated.
Her phone lit up again.
Another replay of the clip.
Still frame: Hayden on the ladder.
Still face: unreadable.
Still moment: a man refusing to react to being dismissed publicly.
For the first time since the press conference, Margot felt something she could not categorize.
Not sympathy.
May you like
Not attraction.
Something closer to imbalance.
