His Version of Friday

The email from Martin arrived before I got home.

He said the executive committee had received conflicting accounts of the interruption. Could I provide a concise timeline of the notices sent by Langford Systems, along with the relevant attachments?

Leah read the message, then called me.

"He hasn't accepted Max's account," she said. "He's asking for the record. That's where we stay."

"I have the emails I sent from my business address. I don't have access to the internal transition packet anymore."

"Don't try to get it. We identify the document and ask Nexora to preserve its copy."

I put my bag on the kitchen floor and opened my laptop.

Maya called while I was gathering the files.

"Did you eat?"

"Half a sandwich."

"What happened to the other half?"

"Max accused me of concealing the deadline."

There was a pause.

"I hope it was a terrible sandwich. Otherwise, he owes you for that, too."

I smiled despite myself.

"It was actually very good."

"Then put it in the refrigerator and finish it when you're done."

She asked if I needed her to come over. I said no, and this time it was true. I had something concrete to do, and somebody qualified helping me do it.

I made a simple table.

Five weeks before expiration: renewal submitted to procurement from Langford Systems.

Three weeks before expiration: receipt acknowledged by procurement.

During Max's transition: service included in the internal briefing packet.

Friday morning: employment terminated.

Saturday morning: formal notice sent to legal, procurement, the CTO, and Max.

Saturday afternoon: legal acknowledged receipt.

Saturday evening: Max instructed the group not to approve renewal pending his review.

Sunday: seven-day bridge offered, acknowledged, but not executed.

Monday: production service entered the contractually described maintenance state; bridge signed later that morning; production reactivated.

I attached what I actually held. I marked the internal briefing as a company-held record, not a file I could personally produce.

That distinction mattered to Leah.

"Don't let anger make you claim more than you can show," she said.

"I want to show everything."

"Then be exact about where everything is."

At three forty, we sent the timeline to Martin and asked that it be provided to the same committee reviewing Max's account. We also requested that Nexora preserve the procurement history and the transition materials.

I didn't call Nicole for internal screenshots. I didn't ask Evan to forward anything to my personal email.

My own business correspondence was enough to begin with.

At four twenty, Max called.

I let it ring and emailed that any licensing questions should include Martin and Leah.

He replied in less than a minute.

I am trying to give you the courtesy of resolving this quietly.

I forwarded it to Leah.

She replied to him, copying Martin.

Please identify the matter you wish to resolve. We remain available to discuss the service agreement through the established channel.

I read that sentence twice and felt an unreasonable amount of gratitude for someone who could be irritated on paper without sounding irritated.

The next morning, Martin asked us to attend a factual review with the board's executive committee at two.

Max would be there. Priya and the CTO would attend as company representatives. The committee wanted to establish what had happened before completing its review of the long-term proposal.

I called Leah.

"They're tying my agreement to his investigation."

"They're reviewing both. We can insist the commercial work continues in parallel. The bridge gives them until next Monday."

"I don't want him to run out the clock again."

"Neither does Priya. She sent revised payment language this morning."

I opened the attachment.

For a few seconds, the numbers blurred. Not because they were large, but because I was exhausted by the need to defend something I had already explained.

I put my head in my hands.

Leah let the silence last.

Finally, I said, "I keep thinking there's a version of this where I should have handled him better."

"Would handling him better mean accepting the wrong account of what happened?"

"No."

"Then prepare for the meeting. You can be upset without being wrong."

At one fifty-five, I returned to Nexora.

Nicole was near the lobby elevators. She hadn't arranged to meet me, and for a second we both hesitated, aware of all the things a hallway conversation could be made to look like.

Then she stepped forward and hugged me.

"I should have done that Friday," she said.

"Yes," I said, hugging her back. "You should have."

When we separated, she glanced at my visitor badge.

"Does that feel strange?"

"Less strange than I expected."

"Good."

She didn't give me secret information. I didn't ask for any. We spoke about her daughter's school play until Leah arrived.

It was the most ordinary conversation I'd had in that building in days.

Upstairs, David Mercer, the board chair, greeted us at the door. I had met him twice before, both times while he was being hurried somewhere else.

Today, he knew my name without looking down.

Max sat opposite the empty chair reserved for me.

David asked everyone to put their phones away.

"We are here to establish the sequence of decisions," he said. "We will hear Ms. Langford's account, then the company's records, then any corrections."

Max folded his hands.

"I'd like it noted that this entire situation arose after an unhappy employee was dismissed."

David looked at him.

"That is one event in the timeline. We will examine the others as well."

He turned to me.

"Ms. Langford, when did you first request renewal?"

I opened the folder in front of me.

For once, Max would have to wait until I finished answering.