Chapter 6
I looked at him.
He stared at the floor.
“He found it in my room. Said it made me weak. Said Vances didn’t cling to trash from strangers.”
My chest ached.
“My mother would have made you another.”
His mouth curved, but it was not a smile.
“I know.”
The hours after that blurred.
Liam did not leave.
When the doctor returned, he asked precise questions in a voice that left no room for negligence. When a nurse brought water, he stood and adjusted the blanket himself, awkwardly, as if kindness were a language he had learned long ago and forgotten from lack of use.
Near dawn, I finally slept.
When I woke again, sunlight reflected off snow so bright it hurt my eyes.
For one peaceful second, I forgot everything.
Then I saw Liam standing by the window, jacket removed, shirt sleeves rolled to his forearms, phone pressed to his ear.
“No,” he said. “Not a suspension. Termination. Effective immediately.”
My stomach dropped.
“Daniel Cross falsified project timelines, reassigned labor without approval, and buried overtime reports. I want every employee under him interviewed by outside counsel. Not HR. Outside counsel.”
A pause.
“I don’t care if he’s your nephew.”
Another pause.
Liam’s voice turned glacial.
“Then resign with him.”
He ended the call.
I stared at him.
“You fired Daniel?”
“I fired Daniel, his protector in HR, and two directors who approved impossible workloads while reporting department efficiency gains to the board.”
“You did that before breakfast?”
“It’s nearly ten.”
I glanced at the clock, startled.
He approached my bed, but stopped a careful distance away.
“You’re on paid medical leave until a doctor clears you.”
“I can’t afford unpaid—”
“Paid,” he repeated.
“I heard you. I just don’t believe you.”
“You should.”
“That’s easy for you to say.”
His eyes lowered, accepting the hit.
A knock sounded.
A nurse entered carrying a sealed envelope and a small plastic bag with my belongings. My phone, shoes, wallet, ID badge, and the canvas bag that had carried half my life through the snow.
Liam took the envelope from her.
“What’s that?” I asked.
“Your resignation,” he said.
My breath stopped.
“I didn’t resign.”
“I know.”
He opened it and removed a page with my signature at the bottom.
Except I had never signed it.
The letters looked almost right.
Almost.
My name slanted wrong.
“That isn’t mine,” I said.
Liam’s expression went flat.
“It was submitted to HR at 1:12 a.m.”
Cold moved through me.
“After I collapsed?”
“Yes.”
“By who?”
He looked at the paper.
May you like
“Daniel Cross.”
The medical room seemed to shrink.
