Chương 13
“Why were you in the service hallway that night?” she asked.
He sat back in the leather chair. “I was looking for Victor.”
“Why?”
“A payment was missing from another account.”
“The fund?”
“No.”
“What account?”
He looked toward the repaired door.
Mara waited.
“A cash account used for activities outside the restaurant,” he said.
“Illegal activities.”
“Yes.”
The word seemed smaller than the life around it.
“What kind?”
“You should not ask me that.”
“Because you’ll lie?”
“Because knowing may create obligations you do not want.”
“Control is care again?”
His face hardened. “No. This is different.”
“Powerful people always say that.”
He stood. “There are things I have done that cannot be repaired with compliance policies or nurseries.”
Mara’s pulse quickened, but she held his gaze.
“Did you kill anyone?” she asked.
The question remained in the warm lamplight.
Dominic walked to the bookshelf and rested one hand against the wood. “Not with my own hands.”
“That’s not no.”
“No.”
She looked toward the broken tray.
He continued, “If that changes what you need from me, decide now.”
“I don’t need anything from you.”
“You need records I control. Employees need wages I guarantee. Victor fears consequences connected to my name whether I use them or not. Pretending there is no dependency does not remove it.”
“Then what do you want me to decide?”
“Whether my cooperation is useful enough to accept without mistaking it for goodness.”
The honesty sickened her and steadied her at once.
“Why tell me?”
“Because Victor will tell you worse, and some of it will be true.”
Mara moved farther into the office. “Did you have him hurt?”
“No.”
“Did anyone working for you?”
“Not under my instruction.”
“That is another careful answer.”
“It is the truthful one.”
“Would you know?”
Dominic looked toward the portrait of his grandfather. “A week ago, I would have said yes.”
She understood what he meant.
The same system that had hidden Victor’s theft could hide other acts. Dominic’s authority was large enough to protect him from the truth of his own organization.
“What happens if you open everything?” Mara asked.
“I may lose more than restaurants.”
“Freedom?”
“Possibly.”
“Then why do it?”
He glanced at Anna’s photograph. “Because I have spent years believing control could prevent loss. It has mostly prevented people from telling me when something was already gone.”
Mara picked up the dented tray. Its center bowed inward where it had struck the door.
“I’m testifying,” she said.
“At the labor inquiry?”
“Yes.”
“Victor’s attorney will use the closet against you.”
“I know.”
“They may use my connection to discredit you.”
“I know.”
“Child services has not closed its assessment.”
“I know.”
Dominic nodded.
“And you’re releasing the full fund records,” she said.
“Yes.”
“Not only what Leah thinks is safe.”
His expression changed slightly. “That is not your decision.”
“No. It’s yours.”
She put the tray back on the shelf. “That’s why it matters.”
The labor hearing was scheduled six weeks after the door broke.
By then, winter had settled over the city. Ellie had learned to sit without support for nearly thirty seconds before tipping sideways in offended surprise. Mara found a licensed daycare near Diane’s house, though the commute added two hours to each workday. The Moretti fund, now managed by a board elected partly by employees, covered half the cost after Mara submitted the same application required of everyone else.
She nearly withdrew when she saw Dominic’s company name on the payment notice.
Priya told her pride was not a childcare plan.
Mara accepted the assistance.
Aurelia remained open, though business had not returned to normal. Some customers came because of the scandal. Others stayed away because of it. Staff meetings grew louder and more useful. Schedules were posted electronically and changes created a visible record. Emergency requests no longer passed through one manager. Colin changed his passwords and wrote them on paper for three days before Rosa threatened to staple the paper to his forehead.
The nursery obtained conditional approval as an employee family room, not a full childcare center. Licensed caregivers from an outside provider came during peak shifts. The room held two cribs, a changing station, a refrigerator for bottles, soft floor mats, and a rocking chair.
Dominic refused to put his name on the door.
The committee named it the Blue Room because nobody could agree on anything better.
Mara brought Ellie there once before the hearing. The baby crawled directly toward an electrical outlet that had been covered and tested three times. Dominic watched from the doorway.
“She appears determined to identify weaknesses,” he said.
“She gets that from me.”
“I assumed.”
Ellie found the yellow rattle beneath a cushion and shook it with both hands.
Dominic’s face changed.
Mara noticed, though she pretended not to.
The morning before the hearing, Victor offered a settlement.
His attorney sent it through Priya: money for Mara, withdrawal of his claims, a written statement that the closet had been used without his knowledge, and confidentiality regarding the assistance fund. The amount would have paid Mara’s rent for four years.
She read the number twice.
Priya watched her. “You are allowed to consider it.”
“If I take it, he lies.”
“Yes.”
“And the other employees?”
“Their claims continue, but your testimony would be limited.”
“Limited how?”
“You would agree not to state that Victor instructed you to use the closet.”
“He did.”
“I know.”
Mara looked through Priya’s office window at the traffic below. A delivery cyclist argued with a taxi driver. A woman in a red coat stood on the sidewalk eating something from a paper bag. Life moved with insulting normality around a decision that could alter Ellie’s childhood.
“What would you do?” Mara asked.
“I would refuse to answer that.”
“I hate lawyers.”
“Frequently mutual.”
May you like
Mara folded the settlement page in half, then unfolded it.
With that money, she could move. Work fewer nights. Replace the refrigerator. Put savings in Ellie’s name. Stop accepting help from Dominic’s fund. Stop counting diapers before payday.
