For the first time in my life, I wasn’t the person being forced to defend himself.
Connor was.
Richard walked toward the screen, studying the documents with an expression I couldn’t quite read.
“Where did you get these records?” he asked.
“From my own development archives. Every file is backed up. The original source code is timestamped, and the contracts are signed. I also have correspondence with the companies that originally commissioned some of the work Connor listed as his own.”
Richard looked at Connor.
“Is any of this true?”
Connor laughed nervously.
“Richard, come on. He’s twisting everything. We worked on some projects together. He’s making it sound like I stole something.”
I almost smiled.
That was exactly what I expected him to say.
So I reached for the final folder on the technician’s laptop.
“One more thing.”
The screen changed.
It showed a series of messages between Connor and a former colleague of mine.
