I placed Douglas’s proposal folder on the passenger seat, untouched.

The printed folder Douglas had handed me at the country club went straight into my shredder at eight o’clock the next morning.

I stood by the machine and listened to the heavy cardstock grind into paper ribbons.

I didn’t even look at his signature on the front cover.

Brenda Lawson stood waiting at the end of the long mahogany table in our executive boardroom.

She had three thick stacks of paper spread out in front of her.