Chương 13
Another followed.
DAD SAYS YOU OWN THE COMPANY.
Then a third.
CALL ME NOW.
Sophie leaned over.
“That escalated.”
I set the phone down.
“Rebecca told me not to contact employees.”
“He contacted you.”
“Still.”
A minute later, Eric called again.
I answered.
“Hello.”
“You own Whitaker?”
No greeting.
No hesitation.
“Yes.”
“What the hell?”
“I’m not discussing company matters with you today.”
“Company matters?”
His voice rose.
“You’ve been sitting at our dinner table for eight years pretending to be some repair guy.”
“I am a repair guy.”
“Don’t play stupid.”
“I’m not.”
“You lied to us.”
“I didn’t tell you.”
“That’s lying.”
“Maybe.”
He seemed thrown by the concession.
“You think this is funny?”
“No.”
“My card got shut off.”
“I know.”
“Why?”
“Talk to HR.”
“Dad says you suspended him.”
“Talk to HR.”
“Did you fire Nathan?”
“I’m not discussing personnel matters.”
Eric made a sound of disbelief.
“You sound like a robot.”
“That’s possible.”
“You’re doing this because Claire dumped you.”
There it was.
“I’m ending this call.”
“No, you’re not.”
“Yes.”
“You don’t get to destroy people’s lives because your wife finally got sick of you.”
I almost hung up.
Then I heard something behind his anger.
Fear.
“What are you worried about, Eric?”
Silence.
“What?”
“You keep calling about your corporate card.”
“It’s my card.”
“It’s the company’s card.”
“You know what I mean.”
“No.”
I let the silence stretch.
“What are you worried we’ll find?”
His breathing changed.
“Nothing.”
“Then call Marcus tomorrow.”
“Why not now?”
“It’s Christmas.”
“You’re working.”
“Yes.”
“Then fix the card.”
“No.”
“Daniel.”
“No.”
His voice dropped.
“Come on, man.”
That tone was new.
For eight years, Eric had spoken to me as if I were a mildly embarrassing cousin.
Now the word man carried an appeal in it.
“I’ve got things on there.”
“What things?”
“Normal stuff.”
“Then you’ll be fine.”
“You don’t understand.”
“Explain it.”
Another silence.
Then he said, “Some charges are mixed.”
“Mixed how?”
“Personal.”
“How much?”
“I don’t know.”
“You submitted reimbursements.”
“It got confusing.”
“Eric.”
“It wasn’t stealing.”
I stood slowly.
Sophie saw my face and sat straighter.
“How much?”
“I said I don’t know.”
“You know enough to be calling me on Christmas.”
He cursed under his breath.
“Maybe twelve.”
“Twelve hundred?”
Silence.
“Eric.”
“Twelve thousand.”
The hotel room seemed to narrow.
The documented fuel discrepancies Marcus had shown me were nowhere near that amount.
“Over what period?”
“A while.”
“How long?”
“Maybe two years.”
I closed my eyes.
“Do not touch your expense account.”
“What?”
“Do not alter receipts.”
“I wasn’t—”
“Do not delete emails, messages, statements, or records.”
“You’re acting like I committed a crime.”
“I’m telling you to preserve company records.”
“You’re my brother-in-law.”
“Not for much longer.”
The words came out before I could stop them.
Eric went silent.
I regretted them immediately.
Not because they were false.
Because I had used the divorce as a weapon.
“Forget that.”
“Nice.”
“I shouldn’t have said it.”
“You think apologizing makes you better than us?”
“No.”
“Dad was right about you.”
I almost asked which part.
I didn’t.
“Call Marcus tomorrow.”
“You’re really going to fire me?”
“I’m ending this call.”
“Daniel.”
I hung up.
My hand was shaking.
Sophie watched me.
“Twelve thousand?”
“You heard.”
“Kind of hard not to.”
I called Rebecca immediately.
She answered before the first ring finished.
“What happened?”
“Eric admitted personal charges.”
“How much?”
“Approximately twelve thousand over two years.”
Rebecca cursed.
I had rarely heard her swear.
“Did you ask him questions?”
“A few.”
“Daniel.”
“He called me.”
“That does not mean you become an investigator.”
“I know.”
“Did you record it?”
“No.”
“Good.”
“Why good?”
“Because now I don’t have to explain recording law to you on Christmas.”
I sat down.
“He may start deleting things.”
“I’ll contact IT.”
“Can we freeze his access?”
“Yes, if there’s a preservation concern.”
“Do it.”
“I’ll coordinate with Marcus.”
Her tone sharpened.
“And you are done answering Collins family calls tonight.”
“Understood.”
“I mean it.”
“So do I.”
I ended the call.
Sophie stared at me.
“What?”
“You look sick.”
“I feel a little sick.”
“Because of the money?”
“Because people were afraid to tell me things happening inside my own company.”
She considered that.
“Maybe they weren’t afraid to tell you.”
I looked at her.
“Maybe they did tell you.”
That hurt because I already knew she was right.
The finance manager had told me about Eric.
Marcus had warned me.
Rebecca had warned me.
Supervisors had learned to speak cautiously around the Collins name because I taught them caution.
I had spent years believing I was protecting peace.
What I had really protected was my ability not to choose.
My phone buzzed again.
Not a call.
An automated security notice.
Eric Collins account access suspended pending administrative review.
A second notice followed.
Nathan Collins account access suspended.
Then Brandon.
One by one, the names appeared.
Nine accounts.
The terminations had not happened yet.
But the machinery was finally moving without asking whether Christmas dinner would become awkward.
Sophie looked at the screen.
“Is that all of them?”
“No.”
“Forty-seven?”
“No.”
“How many?”
“Nine suspended or restricted right now.”
She nodded.
“That seems less dramatic.”
“It is.”
“Probably better.”
“Yes.”
She picked up her book again.
I stared at the names on the screen.
The revenge I had wanted twelve hours earlier would have been simple.
Forty-seven letters.
Forty-seven shocked faces.
A clean, satisfying punishment.
Reality had given me something messier.
Twenty-two people who had done their jobs.
Fourteen whose problems required actual management.
Nine with evidence strong enough to act on.
A father-in-law I despised but could not simply erase.
A wife I still loved and could no longer trust.
An employee whose life had been disrupted because people learned that my silence had a price.
And a daughter who had understood my central failure before I did.
Sophie turned a page.
“You’re doing the face again.”
May you like
“What face?”
“Not the eyebrow one.”
