"Dad, if you look at these figures?—"
"Riley." Harlan Shoemaker didn't even glance up from his computer screen, his thick fingers continuing to pound at the keyboard with surprising speedfor a man his size. "I don't have time for your treasure hunts."
Heat flushed her cheeks. After a year of rebuilding and proving herself, she was still summarily dismissed. While healing, she’d asked him for something to do—to prove not only to herself she was still capable of continuing to do the job but also to prove to him she was someone he needed in his company. Six months of meticulous work, of verifying compliance across two countries. She’d ensured every ESG deliverable met international standards and documented sustainability practices. She’d enhanced her father's company's reputation one audit at a time. Yet he dismissed her like she was still the broken woman Guardian had pulled from that cargo hold.
"This isn't a treasure hunt. These are real discrepancies that could?—"
"Could what?" Harlan finally looked up, his steel-blue eyes cold and calculating. "If thereactuallywas an anomaly, and we admitted to it, what would happen? I’ll tell you. It could cost us the Sahel contract. It could ruin our reputation with the African Development Bank." He leaned back in his leather chair, the springs groaning under his weight.
“But, Dad, it wouldn’t do that if we investigate and admit there is an issue. Honesty always wins.”
“Bullshit. What you’ve discovered is minuscule and a standard loss calculation when dealing with such bulk. What’s the real reason for this show and tell?” His eyes narrowed. “Are you looking for problems where none exist because you're too scared to take on real responsibility of going to the Sahel again? Are you afraid?"
The words hit like a physical blow. Riley's hand instinctively moved to her throat, where the faint scar from the time she was taken still marked her skin. She'd worked so hard to move past the fear, to prove she could handle fieldwork again. The Sahel region project was hers; it always had been. She needed to oversee the rare earth mineral extraction operations across Mali, Niger, Burkina Faso, and Burundu. This role represented everything she'd been fighting for. It was her chance to prove she could face her demons, could be the leader her father needed her to be.
And Talon was there. The thought of seeing him again … of finally bridging the gap between their daily text conversations and reality, had sustained her through the lonely nights and endless work to recover.
"I'm not imagining anything," she said, forcing steel into her voice. "The numbers don't lie."
Harlan's laugh was harsh and humorless. "Numbers don't lie, but people do. People see what they want to see, especially when they're looking for excuses to avoid facing their fears." He stood, his imposing frame casting a shadow across the desk. "You think I don't know what really happened on that boat, Riley? You think I don't know what those animals did to you?"
The room tilted. Riley gripped the edge of the desk, her knuckles white against the dark wood. The carefully constructed walls she'd built around that night crumbled in an instant, leaving her exposed and raw.
"How—" The word came out as barely a whisper.
"How do I know?" Harlan's smile was cruel. "Sweetheart, nothing happens in my world that I don't know about. Did you really think a few therapy sessions would keep your secrets safe from me?"
"Dr. Barnette promised—" Riley's voice cracked. "She said everything was confidential. She said you couldn't access?—"
"Access what? Medical records?" Harlan waved adismissive hand. "I don't need to access anything when I have eyes and ears everywhere."
Shame flooded through her, hot and suffocating.
"That was?—"
"That was my right to know," Harlan continued, his voice matter-of-fact as if he were discussing the weather. “My business, my right.”
The betrayal cut deeper than any physical wound. Not Dr. Barnette. She'd been Riley's lifeline. The person who'd helped her claw her way back from the brink. She believed the woman when she’d said everything was private between them and nothing could be released without her permission.
"So, you see," Harlan said, settling back into his chair, "I know exactly what you've been through. I know exactly how broken you still are. And if you can't handle a simple audit without seeing conspiracies, how can I trust you to represent this company in one of the most dangerous regions in the world?"
Riley's phone buzzed against the desk—a text from Talon, probably his usual good morning message from eight time zones away.
"It is dangerous, and despite what happened to me, I'm not broken," she said, though the words felt hollow. “You can believe me or have this reportvalidated. I don’t care. I’m not lying or seeing conspiracies. This work is my life.”
"No doubt." Harlan tilted his head, studying her like a specimen under a microscope. "You're twenty-eight years old, and you haven't had a real relationship. You spend your nights alone rather than building meaningful human connections. You jump at shadows and see threats where none exist." He gestured at the scattered manifests. "Like these imaginary discrepancies."
Each word was a calculated strike, designed to find and exploit every insecurity she'd confided to Dr. Barnette in the safety of her office. Riley felt herself shrinking, becoming smaller and smaller under his gaze.
"The Sahel base contract is worth two hundred million dollars," Harlan continued. "It's our entry point into African markets, our chance to prove we're not just another American corporation exploiting local resources. I need someone strong leading the compliance arm of this operation. Someone who won't crumble at the first sign of adversity. I don’t think that’s you."
"I won't crumble." The words came out stronger than she felt. “I am the only person for that job.”
"Prove it." Harlan leaned forward, his eyes boringinto hers. "Stop chasing ghosts in spreadsheets and show me you can handle real responsibility. The team leaves for Burundu in two weeks. If you can't let go of these paranoid fantasies about missing minerals, you'll be staying home."
Riley stared at the manifests scattered across the desk, the numbers blurring through her tears. She'd been so sure, so confident in her analysis. But doubt crept in, insidious and poisonous. What if she were seeing patterns that weren't there? What if her trauma had made her paranoid, suspicious of shadows?
"I—" She stopped, swallowing hard. "I need to make a phone call."
