Page 50 of Split Decision

"I know you did." She looks at her tablet. "That's why it'll run."

She pulls up something and turns the screen toward me. The Commission review notice—a copy of the original filing, which I've already seen. Beside it, a second document I haven't seen.

"This came in while you were on set," she says. "Another supplemental. Still anonymous. This one references a specific fight, a specific venue, a specific date in 2019." She holds the screen steady. "Whoever is filing these knows your history specifically. This isn't someone working from public records."

I look at the date on the filing.

"Same day as the follow-up to the youth center," I say.

"Yes." Syndi's voice is even. "I noticed that too."

I hand the tablet back.

"What do you want to do?" she asks.

"Nothing yet," I say. "I want to talk to Andi tonight, and I want to talk to Brandon in the morning."

She nods. Files something. Stands.

"The spa debrief starts at four," she says. "Joe wants you there for at least the first session."

"I'll be there."

She's almost at the door when she stops. Doesn't turn around entirely—just pauses, which from Syndi means she's deciding whether to say something.

"For what it's worth," she says to the middle distance, "what you said about her in there. About not mistaking her for someone who can be managed." A brief pause. "Whoever is coming after her made that mistake a long time ago. You're right about that."

She leaves before I can respond.

I sit in the green room with the water bottle and think about a twenty-eight-year-old woman on a tour bus somewhere in the mid-Atlantic who bought a single red tulip this morning because it was Valentine's Day and she was going to put something alive on the table.

The machine picked the wrong person.

That's the thing they haven't figured out yet.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

BRANDON

Marin recommended a firm called Dalton Group.

She presented it the way she presents everything—methodically, with documentation, with specific reasons each alternative was considered and found lacking. The principal, a man named Hewitt, had a track record in nonprofit governance crises. Politically neutral, she said. Meticulous, structured, and thorough. Exactly what the center needed during an audit period.

I told her I'd review the materials before bringing them to the board.

She said, “Of course. Take whatever time you need.”

Which is the right answer.

Everything Marin says is the right answer, and I've noticed that about her, and I've filed it in the category ofthings I appreciate about herrather than anything more complicated than that.

Because she is genuinely good at this. I've watched her work for three months, and the competence is real—not performed, not assembled for my benefit. She reads situations accurately and responds proportionately. She doesn't overreach, and she doesn't underperform. In a world where most people in crisis management are either too aggressive or too passive, Marin Caldwell does exactly what's needed and not one thing more.

I pull the Dalton Group background on a Wednesday evening, alone in my office after the last meeting of the day has cleared out. Standard practice. I do this with every firm before I recommend them to a client, and there's no reason this should be different just because Marin vouched for them personally.

Hewitt's record is clean. The firm's client list is appropriately confidential, but the disclosed engagements are legitimate. Financials are solid. No regulatory flags.

I'm closing the file when something in the disclosure addendum catches my eye.