The Counterpunch Part 1

Chapter 95: The Counterpunch Part 1 Megan's text arrived before Leah finished her first piece of toast: You need to see this. NYT business section. Online now. The apartment went still around the phone. Leah opened the laptop with fingers that did not shake and found the headline sitting at the top of the page like a detonator already pressed. Costa Holdings Faces Regulatory Scrutiny Over NexGen Therapeutics Acquisition. Paul Kerrigan's byline sat beneath it. The same journalist Kevin Marsh had risked approaching months ago had delivered a public strike with the precision of a blade. The article cited an SEC preliminary inquiry, inadequate disclosure before the NexGen closing, the January 2023 FDA inspection letter, raw patient-data discrepancies, and an email chain showing senior Costa executives had known about the regulatory problem before investors were told. It did not name Catherine Marsh. It did not name Leah Chen. It did not name an internal Thorne Group source. That should have been enough. It was not. The article also mentioned Hunt Capital's due diligence review of Thorne Group as part of a broader examination of family financial practices. A clean sentence for a business reader. A flare to Sebastian Costa. He would see the timing, the specificity, and the overlap with documents Catherine Marsh had accessed inside ThorneVault. Sebastian did not need courtroom proof to begin hunting. He needed a target profile, and the newest analyst in Corporate Strategy fit it too well. Leah called Ethan before the toast cooled. "I assume you've seen it." "Before it went live," he said. "Kerrigan sent an advance copy last night." "You could have warned me." "There was nothing actionable to warn you about. The sourcing is attributed to regulatory officials and people familiar with the matter. The FDA letter can be obtained publicly. The email chain is harder, but Kerrigan has SEC channels. The article is clean." "You are underestimating Sebastian." "No. I am separating legal traceability from emotional retaliation." "Sebastian will not separate them." The pause that followed told her he knew that. "If he retaliates against a suspected whistleblower, he increases his exposure." "He nearly killed me to solve a family problem." Ethan's breath shifted. "Catherine Marsh is not Isabella Thorne." "That is exactly the kind of sentence that gets people killed." He did not argue. That was something. It was not enough. Leah ended the call before the conversation became tenderness or strategy, because neither would put Catherine safely through the lobby. She dressed in a gray blouse, black trousers, and the expression of a woman whose morning contained nothing more dangerous than a briefing deadline. By 9:45, the thirty-fourth floor had changed temperature. Analysts stood in knots near coffee machines. Several screens carried the Times article. Conversations lowered whenever someone from Legal passed the aisle. Leah sat at Catherine's desk, opened David's healthcare analysis, and read the department-wide email he had sent at 8:15. Team, I am aware of the New York Times article regarding Costa Holdings and NexGen Therapeutics. This is a media matter, and the executive office is handling the response. For now, please continue your normal work and direct external inquiries to Communications. David. Normal work was a gift. It told everyone what Catherine Marsh should look like: boring, focused, obedient. Leah accepted the gift and began revising the clinical diagnostics section with a calm she did not feel. At 10:30, Priya appeared beside her cubicle. "Catherine. A moment." They entered a small conference room. Priya closed the door and did not sit. "I want to be direct. You've been here eight days. The article mentions documents people will assume came from inside Thorne Group. I am not accusing you of anything. I am telling you new hires are always the first to be scrutinized." Catherine kept her hands folded around her notebook. "I understand." "If HR, Legal, or anyone from the executive floor approaches you, you tell them you have not shared company information with anyone outside the company. You direct them to David or Communications. You do not speculate. You do not explain more than asked. You do not volunteer anything." "Understood." Priya studied her closely enough that Leah felt the old instinct to hide rise under her skin. "You are not nervous." "I'm focused on the analysis you assigned me. Everything else is noise." For one dangerous second, Priya almost smiled. "Good. Keep it that way." She left first. Leah stayed in the conference room long enough to count six breaths. Priya was not accusing her. Priya was shielding her, or at least shielding the unit from panic. That protection mattered. It also proved the scrutiny was real enough that a team lead had already begun coaching the newest analyst how to survive it. At lunch, Rachel Okonkwo sat across from Leah without asking. Her soup steamed between them. Her eyes did not. "You've seen the article." "Everyone has." "Sebastian Costa is going to lose his mind. I hear he has called three board meetings this week." Rachel stirred once, slow and thoughtful. "The interesting part is not the SEC inquiry. The interesting part is timing. The article lands the same week Hunt Capital starts asking questions about the Foundation's PRI program." Leah let herself take a bite of salad she did not want. "How do you know about Hunt Capital's review?" "Corporate Development works with the Foundation's investment team on acquisition due diligence. When Hunt Capital requested Foundation financial records, people noticed. David mentioned it in a staff meeting." So the wall between Hunt Capital's legitimate review and Kerrigan's public story was already porous. Sebastian would hear that. Martha would hear it sooner. "Are you concerned?" Leah asked. Rachel gave a short, humorless laugh. "Catherine, I have watched Martha Thorne restructure a two-hundred-million-dollar portfolio over a weekend. I have watched Arthur Webb bury a regulatory inquiry so thoroughly the SEC forgot it had started. The Thorne family does not panic. It adapts, controls, survives." It sounded like admiration until Leah heard the bitterness under it. Rachel stood, then leaned one hand on the table. "One more thing. That retrieval request you submitted, REQ-2024-0347? It has been flagged for review." Leah made herself blink only once. "Flagged by whom?" "Security. Standard protocol for pre-2015 requests from employees with less than thirty days' tenure. It is not personal, but it means ten to fourteen days instead of five to seven." The thirty-sixth floor moved away from her by a week. Geraldine Hoffman moved with it. Around them, cafeteria noise softened into a single dull pressure. "Thank you for telling me," Catherine said. Rachel's expression did not soften. "Be careful. The thirty-sixth floor has a long memory." She walked away with her soup untouched. Leah remained at the table, fork in hand, while the counterpunch finally showed its shape. The article had hit Costa. The answer had not come as a lawsuit or a threat. It had come as scrutiny, delay, and a woman who knew Catherine's request number. Rachel Okonkwo was either the first ally inside the records wall or the first sentinel assigned to watch her. Leah could not yet tell which.