Chương 6
“I didn’t put Mia in that car.”
“No, you handed her to me because a payroll problem mattered more than taking your kid home.”
Daniel struck him.
It was not a hard punch. More of a clumsy swing that caught Julian high on the cheek. Pain shot through Daniel’s knuckles. Julian stumbled against the wall, then stared at him with genuine surprise.
Inside the apartment, Mia called, “Dad?”
Daniel looked at the closed door.
Julian touched his cheek. “There he is.”
Daniel’s breathing came too fast.
Julian could have hit him back. He did not.
“I’m sorry,” Daniel said, though he was not certain which part he meant.
“You should be.”
“I’m calling the police.”
“For what? I came to see my niece.”
“You came to intimidate us.”
“I came to ask my brother not to burn down eight thousand lives because he hates himself.”
Daniel opened the apartment door and removed the chain.
Mia sat at the table, pale and still.
“Go,” Daniel told Julian.
Julian looked at Mia through the doorway.
“Mia, I’m sorry you got hurt.”
She stared at him.
“I never wanted that.”
“You were driving,” she said.
Julian’s mouth moved, but no words followed.
Mia waited.
He looked at Daniel instead. “When the company falls, she’ll know who did it.”
Then he walked toward the elevator.
Daniel locked the door.
Mia looked at his reddening knuckles.
“You hit him.”
“Yes.”
“Did it help?”
“No.”
“Are you going to get arrested?”
“Probably not.”
“Why not?”
“Because he isn’t likely to report it.”
“That’s unfair.”
“Yes.”
“You tell me not to hit people.”
“I do.”
“But you did.”
“Yes.”
Mia looked down at her worksheet. “Adults are bad at rules.”
Daniel went to the sink and held his hand beneath cold water.
After a moment, Mia said, “He was right about one thing.”
Daniel turned off the faucet.
“What?”
“You left me with him.”
The apartment seemed to narrow around them.
Daniel dried his hand on a dish towel.
“I know.”
“You said you had to fix payroll.”
“I did.”
“You could have taken me with you.”
“It was late.”
“You could have gone home first.”
“Yes.”
“You said Uncle Julian was safe.”
Daniel pulled out the chair opposite her. Sitting made him feel no less exposed.
“I was wrong.”
“Grandma always says he’s the best driver in the family.”
“She says many things.”
“You say that when you don’t want to answer.”
He looked at the unfinished math problems between them.
“I trusted him because it was easier than arguing with him. And because I wanted to go solve something at work. Work problems make sense to me. People send numbers, and I find what’s wrong. That night I chose the problem I knew how to fix.”
Mia tapped the eraser of her pencil against the paper.
“Did you know he was drinking?”
“I saw him with wine at dinner.”
“How much?”
“I don’t know.”
“You didn’t ask.”
“No.”
Her eyes filled, but she did not cry.
“Mom would have asked.”
Daniel looked away.
“That was mean,” Mia said.
“Yes.”
“I’m still mad.”
“You’re allowed.”
“Are you mad at me?”
“No.”
“You look mad.”
“I’m mad at myself.”
“That still feels like mad.”
He nodded.
“I’ll try not to make you carry it.”
Mia picked up her pencil again. “I don’t know how to do number seven.”
Daniel moved his chair beside hers.
They spent twenty minutes getting the answer wrong.
The next morning, Cross Meridian’s board placed Daniel on unpaid administrative leave pending an internal review. The letter cited potential conflicts of interest, unauthorized disclosure of confidential information, and conduct inconsistent with the responsibilities of a senior officer.
Daniel had not disclosed confidential information.
He suspected the accusation existed to discourage him from doing so.
Martin Hale called an hour after the letter arrived.
“This can still be temporary,” he said.
“What does Julian want?”
“The board wants assurances.”
“From me.”
“Yes.”
“What assurances?”
“That you will not speak publicly, access company systems, or make unsupported allegations linking corporate resources to a private legal matter.”
“Did the company pay Peter Lang’s attorney?”
Martin did not answer.
“Did it?”
“I can’t discuss privileged arrangements.”
“Peter is an employee.”
“He was acting within the scope of his responsibilities when he attended the dinner.”
“He was sitting in the passenger seat.”
“Daniel.”
“Who authorized his representation?”
“Stop asking questions you know I cannot answer.”
Daniel stood in Rebecca’s kitchen, looking at a cabinet door that never closed completely. “You can answer. You won’t.”
“Because my client is the company.”
“When did that stop including me?”
“When your interests separated.”
“Meaning when my daughter spoke.”
“Meaning when you became personally adverse to the institution you serve.”
Daniel looked toward the living room. Mia was asleep on the couch with a nature documentary playing quietly.
“What happens to our health insurance?”
“Coverage remains active for now.”
“For now.”
“You have options.”
“Which are?”
“Cooperate with the review. Avoid public statements. Let the criminal process proceed without trying this in the media.”
“I haven’t spoken to the media.”
“I know.”
“Then why are you warning me?”
“Because your sister has.”
Daniel closed his eyes.
Rebecca had posted six sentences online that morning. She did not mention the company by name, but everyone recognized it.
A family that protects its reputation by frightening a child has already destroyed the thing it claims to be protecting. Believe children when telling the truth costs them more than silence.
The post had been shared twelve thousand times.
“I didn’t ask her to do that,” Daniel said.
“Public perception will not distinguish between siblings.”
“Public perception seems to distinguish between the child in a hospital and the executive accused of injuring her.”
“You’re being emotional.”
“My ribs aren’t broken. I’m allowed.”
May you like
Martin was silent.
Daniel regretted the line as soon as he said it. Not because it was untrue, but because it sounded like something Julian would use later to prove Daniel could not think clearly.
