Chương 8
No calculation.
Just hope.
“I don’t know,” Lenora said.
Ava frowned.
“That’s not a good answer.”
Daniel gave a small laugh.
“Honest, though.”
Lenora looked at the girl.
“I’d like to.”
Ava nodded.
“Okay.”
As if that settled it.
As if wanting something was enough to make the world cooperate.
Daniel helped Ava into the car.
Before closing the door, he looked back at Lenora.
“Thank you.”
She nodded.
“For what?”
“For not making me feel like a problem.”
The words stayed with her after he drove away.
Because they sounded exactly like something Ren had asked earlier without saying.
Why did everyone keep pretending they didn’t see us?
Lenora sat in the parking lot long after the car disappeared.
The amusement park lights continued glowing behind her.
Families walked past carrying souvenirs.
Parents called for tired children.
Someone nearby dropped a bag of popcorn and laughed.
The world remained ordinary.
But Lenora knew ordinary was fragile.
Her phone buzzed.
This time, it was her assistant.
She answered.
“Lenora.”
The voice on the other end was tense.
“I saw the post.”
Lenora closed her eyes.
“What post?”
“The one about Daniel Mercer.”
She looked toward the road where his car had vanished.
“Send it to me.”
A few seconds later, the message arrived.
She opened it.
The headline was already spreading.
It mentioned her name.
It mentioned Vale Technologies.
It mentioned the engineer blamed for Harbor Ridge.
But the final line was what made her stop.
A source claimed Daniel Mercer had known about the safety issue before anyone else.
Lenora read the sentence twice.
Because if it was true, Daniel had lied to her.
And if it was false, someone had just found the perfect way to destroy him.
Lenora read the sentence again.
Then she read the paragraph above it.
Then she closed the article.
Not because she believed it.
Because she knew exactly how quickly anger could replace judgment.
She had watched companies collapse because people reacted to the first version of a story.
The first version was almost always the easiest one to understand.
It was also rarely the complete one.
“Send me everything,” she told her assistant.
“The article?”
“No.”
She looked at the screen.
“The original source.”
A pause.
“Lenora, we don’t have access to that.”
“Then find out who does.”
Her assistant hesitated.
“You want us involved?”
Lenora looked at the empty parking space where Daniel’s car had been.
“Yes.”
“That could create problems.”
“It already has.”
She ended the call.
For several minutes, she stayed there.
She hated the feeling in her chest.
Not fear exactly.
Something more complicated.
Disappointment.
Because a small part of her had already started trusting him.
That bothered her.
Trust was expensive.
She had learned that after her accident.
Before the crash, she believed trust was something people earned through words.
Afterward, she learned it was earned through what people did when nobody was watching.
Daniel had seemed like someone who understood that.
Now she did not know.
Her phone buzzed again.
A message from her assistant.
A link.
A screenshot.
A name.
Karen Whitmore.
The article had been published fifteen minutes earlier.
The timing bothered her.
Not because reporters moved quickly.
Because someone had known exactly when to release it.
Someone had waited until Daniel was seen with her.
Until the story could become something bigger.
Lenora opened the article again.
She forced herself to read every word.
Not emotionally.
Professionally.
That was the skill she had built over years.
Separate the feeling from the facts.
The article described Harbor Ridge’s collapse.
It described the injuries.
It described the investigation.
Then it described Daniel.
But something felt wrong.
The article used careful language.
It never directly accused him of causing the failure.
It suggested.
It implied.
It connected.
Those were different things.
Good lawyers lived in those differences.
Good journalists knew them too.
Lenora reached the end.
Then she stopped.
One sentence stood out.
According to internal records reviewed by this publication, Mercer was aware of concerns regarding the final design before approval.
Internal records.
Not files.
Not documents.
Records.
That mattered.
She picked up her phone.
She called someone she had not spoken to in years.
The person answered after three rings.
“Lenora?”
“Michael.”
A pause.
“That’s unexpected.”
“I need a favor.”
A small laugh.
“That is the most predictable thing you’ve ever said.”
Michael Grant had been one of the first investors in Vale Technologies.
He was also one of the few people who had known Lenora before she became known.
Before the interviews.
Before the conferences.
Before strangers called her inspirational without knowing anything about her.
“I need information about Harbor Ridge.”
The humor disappeared.
“Why?”
“Daniel Mercer.”
Another pause.
“Why are you asking about him?”
“Because he was with me today.”
Silence.
Long enough that she noticed.
“What?”
“You know him?”
“I know of him.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
Michael sighed.
“Lenora.”
“What?”
“You need to be careful.”
She looked around the parking lot.
The warning irritated her.
Not because it was wrong.
Because everyone always warned her after she had already decided.
“I’m asking for facts.”
“Facts are complicated.”
“Then give me the complicated version.”
Another pause.
Finally, Michael said, “Harbor Ridge was a mess.”
“That’s not news.”
“No.”
His voice lowered.
“But the public version was cleaner than reality.”
Lenora listened.
“There were too many people involved. Too many decisions. Too many people trying to avoid responsibility.”
“Was Daniel one of them?”
“I don’t know.”
The answer surprised her.
“You don’t know?”
“I know what the reports said.”
“And?”
“And I know reports are written by people.”
Lenora leaned back.
“What aren’t they saying?”
Michael was quiet.
“Lenora.”
“Michael.”
He sighed.
“There were disagreements inside the company.”
“About what?”
“Safety standards.”
“That’s broad.”
“Because it was broad.”
He paused.
“Some engineers wanted more testing. Some executives wanted the product released.”
“And Daniel?”
“I don’t know where he stood.”
Lenora looked at the article again.
May you like
“That is the problem.”
“What?”
