Chapter 7: Judgment of the Partners

The boardroom at Apex Consulting had always intimidated Leo—mahogany table polished to mirror brightness, leather chairs that probably cost more than his monthly salary, and walls lined with awards that proclaimed the firm's dominance in the consulting world. But as he walked through those imposing doors at precisely 9 AM, Leo felt none of his usual deference.

Instead, he felt like a predator entering his hunting ground.

The senior partners were already assembled: Richard Blackstone, the firm's managing partner, sat at the head of the table like a judge preparing to deliver sentence. To his left was Patricia Hawthorne, the firm's rainmaker and political mastermind. Across from her, James Morrison controlled the firm's largest accounts with an iron fist that had made him legendary in consulting circles.

And there, looking like a man facing his own execution, sat Marcus Thorne.

"Leo," Blackstone began, his voice carrying the weight of fifteen years of firm leadership, "thank you for joining us on such short notice. As you can imagine, yesterday's events in San Francisco have created a rather... delicate situation."

Leo took his seat across from Marcus, noting with satisfaction how his former boss avoided eye contact. The man who had swaggered through the office just two days ago now looked haggard, his usual polish replaced by the desperate pallor of someone fighting for his professional life.

"Of course, Mr. Blackstone. I understand this is a serious matter."

Patricia leaned forward, her sharp eyes assessing Leo like a hawk evaluating prey. "We've heard Marcus's account of what transpired with Julian Croft. According to him, there was a significant miscommunication that led to Mr. Croft making some rather... extreme decisions."

Leo allowed himself a small smile. "I'm not sure I'd characterize Julian's response as extreme, Ms. Hawthorne. I'd call it proportionate."

The temperature in the room seemed to drop several degrees. Marcus shifted uncomfortably, finally meeting Leo's gaze with something that looked suspiciously like desperation.

"Leo," Marcus said, his voice lacking its usual commanding tone, "I think there's been a misunderstanding about the whole ticket situation. I tried to explain to Julian that there were logistical issues—"

"Logistical issues?" Leo's voice was calm, almost conversational. "Is that what we're calling theft now?"

James Morrison's eyebrows shot up. "That's a very serious accusation, Leo."

"It's also an accurate one." Leo reached into his briefcase and withdrew a tablet, moving with the same calculated precision he'd learned from watching Sienna in action. "Would you like to see the evidence?"

The question hung in the air like a challenge. Leo could see the exact moment when the partners realized this wasn't going to be the simple damage control session they'd expected. Marcus was supposed to be the senior partner explaining away a client's unreasonable behavior. Instead, Leo sat across from them holding what looked suspiciously like ammunition.

"What kind of evidence?" Blackstone asked carefully.

Leo swiped across his tablet's screen with theatrical precision. "Email communications between Marcus and his brother-in-law, Thomas Brennan, dated three days before the Championship game. Would you like me to read them aloud?"

Marcus went pale. "Leo, that's private correspondence—"

"Private correspondence about tickets that Julian Croft specifically intended for me," Leo cut him off smoothly. "Tickets that Marcus decided to use for his own business development purposes."

Patricia's political instincts were clearly pinging danger signals. "Perhaps we should hear what Leo has to say before drawing any conclusions."

Leo nodded appreciatively. "On Thursday, March 15th, Marcus sent an email to Thomas Brennan—owner of three BMW dealerships in Sacramento and a potential client—offering him Championship tickets. I quote: 'Tommy, remember that opportunity I mentioned? Got those premium Championship tickets sorted. Time to show you how business gets done in the big leagues.'"

The silence that followed was deafening. Leo could practically hear the gears turning in each partner's mind as they calculated the implications—not just of the theft, but of the liability Marcus had created.

"The response," Leo continued relentlessly, "came back within hours: 'Marcus, you're a lifesaver! Sarah's been on me about never taking her anywhere special. Championship tickets will definitely score me points at home AND with my board. Let's definitely talk about that consulting contract for my dealerships.'"

James Morrison was the first to break the silence. "Jesus Christ, Marcus. Tell me you didn't use client gifts to pursue your own business development."

Marcus was sweating now, his carefully constructed facade crumbling under the weight of documented evidence. "It wasn't like that. The tickets were... there were complications with delivery, and I thought—"

"You thought you'd steal them," Leo said quietly. "You thought you'd take something Julian Croft specifically intended for me and use it to impress a prospect. You thought I'd never find out, or that if I did, I wouldn't have the resources to do anything about it."

Blackstone leaned back in his chair, his expression shifting from judicial to calculating. Leo recognized the look—it was the same expression Julian had worn when he'd realized how completely Marcus had played into their hands.

"Leo," Blackstone said carefully, "what exactly transpired during yesterday's meeting with Mr. Croft?"

This was the moment Leo had been preparing for—the chance to control the narrative, to position himself not as a victim seeking revenge, but as a professional who had tried to salvage an impossible situation.

"Julian asked me directly whether I'd received the tickets he'd arranged for me. I told him the truth—that I'd never received them. When he asked Marcus to explain, Marcus initially claimed there had been a delivery mix-up." Leo paused, letting the implications sink in. "Julian then produced documentation showing the tickets had been successfully delivered to Marcus's office."

Patricia was taking notes now, her legal mind clearly working through the ramifications. "What was Mr. Croft's reaction?"

"He was... disappointed," Leo said, choosing his words carefully. "He felt that his trust had been violated, and that his gift to me had been misappropriated. He terminated our professional relationship effective immediately."

Marcus finally found his voice. "He was completely unreasonable! Over some tickets! We've had a business relationship for three years, and he throws it all away over a simple misunderstanding!"

"Thirty-seven million dollars," James Morrison said quietly.

The room went silent again.

"That's what the Croft Industries account is worth annually to this firm," Morrison continued, his voice gaining an edge that could cut glass. "Thirty-seven million dollars in revenue that just walked out the door because you couldn't resist stealing from a colleague."

Marcus looked like he might be sick. "James, surely we can repair this. I can call Julian, explain the situation—"

"With what explanation?" Patricia's voice was arctic. "That our senior partner routinely steals client gifts and uses them for personal business development? That we don't properly supervise our staff? That we can't be trusted with basic professional courtesy?"

Leo watched the dynamic shift with fascination. The partners weren't angry with him—they were furious with Marcus for creating a liability they couldn't contain. In the space of ten minutes, Marcus had gone from senior partner explaining away a client's unreasonable behavior to scapegoat responsible for losing the firm's second-largest account.

"There is one possible solution," Leo said quietly.

Every eye in the room focused on him with laser intensity.

"Julian isn't completely closed to the possibility of continuing our professional relationship. But he has conditions."

Blackstone leaned forward. "What kind of conditions?"

Leo consulted his tablet again, drawing out the moment. "First, he wants assurance that Marcus will face appropriate consequences for his actions. Second, he wants Leo Vance to be his primary point of contact going forward, with Marcus having no involvement in the account whatsoever."

The calculation was instant and obvious to everyone in the room. They could lose Marcus and keep thirty-seven million in annual revenue, or they could keep Marcus and lose everything.

"What constitutes 'appropriate consequences' in Mr. Croft's view?" Patricia asked.

"Financial restitution to me for the stolen tickets. Fifteen thousand dollars, which represents their fair market value. A formal written apology acknowledging his actions, to be distributed to all partners and senior staff. And complete removal from any Croft Industries-related business."

Marcus looked like he might faint. "Fifteen thousand dollars? That's completely unreasonable—"

"Is it?" Leo's voice carried just a hint of Julian's predatory edge. "Premium Championship tickets on the secondary market were selling for five thousand each. You stole two tickets, plus the intangible value of a once-in-a-lifetime experience. I'd say fifteen thousand is quite reasonable."

James Morrison was already doing the math. "Marcus, your compensation package this year was what—four hundred thousand? Fifteen thousand represents less than four percent of your annual income. The Croft account represents nearly eight percent of our firm's total revenue."

The message was crystal clear: pay Leo, or find a new job.

Blackstone stepped in with the kind of executive decision that had built Apex Consulting into an industry leader. "Marcus, you'll comply with Mr. Croft's conditions. The fifteen thousand will come directly from your salary—no reimbursement from the firm. You'll draft the apology letter for my review before distribution. And effective immediately, you're barred from any involvement with Croft Industries or Julian Croft himself."

Marcus opened his mouth to protest, then seemed to realize the futility of argument. Around the table, three of the most powerful people in consulting were staring at him with expressions that brooked no dissent.

"Fine," he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper.

Patricia turned to Leo with newfound respect. "Can you guarantee that Mr. Croft will maintain the relationship under these conditions?"

Leo allowed himself a small smile. "I believe Julian will be quite satisfied with this resolution. He appreciates accountability, and he values competence. As long as he receives both, I'm confident our professional relationship will continue to flourish."

As the meeting broke up, Leo found himself walking toward the elevator with a strange sense of displacement. The same hallways, the same offices, but everything had changed. Partners who had barely acknowledged his existence now nodded respectfully as he passed. Associates whispered among themselves, clearly aware that the firm's hierarchy had just shifted in ways they were still trying to understand.

Marcus caught up with him at the elevator, looking like a man who'd aged ten years in the past hour.

"Leo," he said quietly, "I hope you understand this wasn't personal. Business sometimes requires difficult decisions—"

"Marcus." Leo's voice cut through the attempted justification with surgical precision. "Save it. We both know exactly what this was, and we both know you'd do it again if you thought you could get away with it."

The elevator arrived, and Leo stepped inside, turning to face his former tormentor one last time.

"The money and apology are due by Friday. Don't make me ask twice."

As the doors closed on Marcus's defeated expression, Leo felt something he'd never experienced before in the Apex Consulting offices: the intoxicating rush of absolute victory.

He hadn't just won—he'd conquered. And the best part was, this was only the beginning.