"That will be examined by the investigators and your lawyer. My concern is what you did while presenting yourself as a managing partner of this firm."
Preston leaned against the wall, suddenly less sure of his position. "What are you saying?"
"The partners have suspended your management authority and access to firm accounts while we investigate. You will not represent Oakmont or contact clients on its behalf. The partnership committee is reviewing your conduct under the agreement."
"You can't do that over some flight attendant's mistake."
"This isn't about a flight attendant's mistake," Charles said. "It's about what the mistake revealed when you thought you had the power to dictate what happened next."
Preston's throat tightened. The firm had been his world for nearly twenty years. It was the source of his income, his identity, his invitations to private events, and the title he presented before people had asked his name.
"Charles, please. This is being blown out of proportion."
"The video has reached millions of people," Charles replied. "Clients have called. Employees have called. People have asked whether this is how we treat anyone without money or influence. And I can't pretend the question came out of nowhere, because I've allowed smaller incidents to go unaddressed for years."
Preston gripped the receiver. "You're going to throw me away to protect the firm's image."
"I'm going to address the conduct and our failure to address it earlier. Your attorney will receive the formal notice."
The call ended. Preston remained standing in the narrow hall, receiver pressed against his ear, feeling the first undeniable crack in the story he had always told himself. He had believed his professional success meant people could not afford to challenge him. Now the thing that had protected him for years was being separated from him by people who once relied on it.
He returned to the holding room and sat down slowly. Across from him, another man waited quietly for his own case to be processed, looking at Preston with none of the recognition or deference Preston had expected from strangers all his adult life. For the first time that day, Preston had no title that made any difference to the room.
High above the desert, Darien woke to the soft chiming of his phone. It took him a few seconds to remember where he was and why his suit jacket had been hung carefully beside the bed. The cabin was dim, and the sky beyond the window had deepened into a soft violet that made the world outside look almost unreal.
He reached for his phone and saw a flood of notifications. Sarah Kline had sent several messages, Priya Nair had called twice, Camille had forwarded a note from Richard Harrington, and there were dozens of alerts from colleagues who had seen his face on their screens. He sat up, adjusted the seat, and opened Sarah's messages first.
The most recent read: Five million views and climbing. You're safe, right? Please answer when you can. We're getting press calls from everywhere. I haven't issued anything.