Chương 4
“Did my father steal from his own company?”
Mabel hesitated.
“I don’t know.”
That answer surprised him.
“I thought you were sure.”
“I was sure he wanted me blamed.”
She looked toward the road.
“But wanting someone blamed and actually doing something are not always the same thing.”
Damian folded the papers.
That was the first thing she had said that sounded like the Mabel he remembered.
Careful.
Precise.
Unwilling to claim more than she could prove.
“I’m going to find out what happened.”
Mabel looked at him.
“And if you don’t like the answer?”
He held her gaze.
“I need to know it anyway.”
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Then Lily’s voice came from inside the house.
“Mommy, who is the man outside?”
Mabel closed her eyes briefly.
Damian waited.
He expected anger.
He expected rejection.
Instead, she answered quietly.
“He’s someone I used to know.”
The words hurt more than she probably intended.
Because they were true.
Damian had spent years becoming someone everyone knew.
A businessman.
A billionaire.
A name printed on buildings.
But to Mabel Sterling, he was still the man who left.
But to Mabel Sterling, he was still the man who left.
Damian spent the next three days doing something he had avoided for most of his adult life.
He waited.
He did not send assistants.
He did not call reporters.
He did not use his company’s influence to pressure people into talking.
He simply started looking.
The first thing he found was that the accusation against Mabel had been handled strangely.
The financial records from Vance Logistics showed missing transfers, but the investigation had never reached the point where an outside auditor examined the entire chain of transactions.
The company had closed the matter internally.
That bothered him.
A missing amount of money that large should have created months of questions.
Instead, it had created one person to blame.
Mabel.
Rachel sent him the first file late Thursday night.
“Damian, I need you to be careful with this.”
He looked at the message for several seconds before calling her.
“Why?”
“Because if what I’m seeing is accurate, this is not just about a mistake in accounting.”
He sat up straighter.
“What did you find?”
“There were three employees who questioned the transfers before Mabel was accused.”
“Who?”
“One resigned two weeks later.”
“And the others?”
“One was moved to another division.”
“The third?”
Rachel paused.
“He died.”
Damian frowned.
“An accident?”
“I don’t know yet.”
The answer unsettled him.
Rachel was not someone who used dramatic words without evidence.
“What else?”
“There are gaps in the company records.”
“What kind of gaps?”
“Emails missing from archived accounts.”
“Can that happen?”
“Sometimes.”
“But?”
“But not usually in multiple accounts connected to the same issue.”
Damian leaned back in his chair.
The room suddenly felt smaller.
His father had spent his entire life teaching him that control was everything.
Control the numbers.
Control the employees.
Control the story.
Damian had admired that confidence when he was younger.
Now he wondered how much of it had been something darker.
The following morning, he returned to Mabel’s cottage.
This time, he brought groceries instead of questions.
Mabel opened the door and looked at the bags in his hands.
“No.”
Damian blinked.
“No?”
“I don’t need charity.”
“It’s food.”
“I know what food is.”
Her answer was sharper than necessary, and she seemed to realize it afterward.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Then Damian slowly lowered the bags.
“I’m not trying to buy forgiveness.”
“Good.”
“I’m trying to make sure Lily eats.”
That made her expression change.
Only slightly.
But enough.
“She always eats.”
“I believe you.”
Mabel looked at him carefully.
The old Damian would have argued.
The old Damian would have tried to prove his point.
This version simply stood there.
That confused her more than anger would have.
“You’re different,” she said.
Damian gave a small, tired smile.
“I’m older.”
“That’s not what I mean.”
He looked down.
“No.”
She opened the door wider.
Not an invitation inside.
Not yet.
Just enough to stop the conversation from happening on the porch.
Lily was sitting at the kitchen table coloring with a broken blue crayon.
She looked up when Damian entered.
“Hi.”
Damian smiled.
“Hi.”
“What’s your name?”
He almost laughed because he knew exactly what she was asking.
“My name is Damian.”
She considered that.
“Like a dinosaur?”
Mabel covered her mouth briefly.
Damian looked at her.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“You laughed.”
“I did not.”
“You absolutely did.”
For the first time in years, Mabel smiled in front of him.
It lasted less than a second.
But he saw it.
And he remembered why losing her had always felt like losing something he could never replace.
Lily returned to coloring.
Mabel poured water into a glass and placed it on the table.
“She likes drawing animals.”
Damian watched the child carefully.
“She’s good.”
“She draws things from memory.”
“Like you.”
Mabel looked at him.
“You remember that?”
“I remember everything about you.”
The sentence came out before he could stop it.
Mabel’s expression closed again.
“Don’t say things you didn’t prove.”
Damian nodded.
“I deserved that too.”
She sat across from him.
“You keep saying that.”
“Because it’s true.”
“People usually say they deserve blame when they’re trying to get past it.”
“I’m not trying to get past it.”
“What are you trying to do?”
Damian looked around the small kitchen.
The chipped plates.
The repaired cabinet.
The old refrigerator making a strange humming sound.
“I don’t know yet.”
Mabel seemed surprised by the honesty.
“That’s probably the first honest thing you’ve said to me.”
He accepted that without defending himself.
Outside, a truck passed on the dirt road, sending dust through the cracked window.
Mabel reached over and closed it.
The movement was automatic.
A small habit built from years of living there.
Damian noticed.
May you like
Not because it meant something symbolic.
Because he realized he had never seen any of this.
