sleep that night.
A hundred different thoughts went through my mind.
Should I call the police?
Should I resign?
Should I wait until morning?
Then, at 9:10 the next morning, my phone rang.
Unknown number.
“Ms. Collins?”
“Yes.”
“This is Daniel Reed, Mr. Harris’s attorney. I need you to come to my office at eleven this morning.”
I went cold.
“Why?”
The man paused.
“Mr. Harris asked me to give you some documents.”
At that moment, I thought it was over.
Either I was being fired.
Or they were trying to make me sign something about what had happened the night before.
At eleven, I was sitting in the lawyer’s office.
He placed the same black envelope on the desk.
I recognized it immediately.
“What is this?”
“Open it.”
There was no personal letter inside.
No indecent offer.
Instead, there were reports.
Bank transfers.
Internal company documents.
And
