“Oh?” I lift a brow. “Forgive me for interrupting this riveting misogyny seminar—”
“If we don’t stop arguing,” he cuts in sharply, “we won’t be able to figure out what went wrong.”
That stops me.
The anger doesn’t leave, it just rises differently, colder, more alert. “What do you mean?” I ask, stepping closer.
My father scrubs a hand down his face. He looks older and tired. “Have you seen the news?”
I blink. “No.”
He gestures toward the wall-mounted TV. Grant grabs the remote and flicks it on.
The headline hits first.
FIRE AT DANFORTH STEEL FACILITY. BUILDING LOST. INVESTIGATION UNDERWAY.
My breath catches, and my pulse spikes as I watch the flames swallow the building.
“Is everyone okay?” I step forward until the images burn into my eyes. “What happened?” I whisper.
My father exhales like the air itself weighs too much. “Arson. Or negligence. Or a goddamn curse. I don’t know yet.”
“First things first, was anyone hurt?” I ask, and my father shakes his head.
“Okay, good. Objects can be replaced. People can’t.”
“We lost the whole facility, Victoria.” My father scoffs.
“I know, and it’s awful, but we have insurance. I’m sure everything will be okay.”
Grant’s laugh comes soft and smug. “Ah. See, that’s the problem.”
My father glares at him, then looks at me. “The policy on that building lapsed.”
My mouth falls open. “We let our insurance lapse on an entire facility?”
“It was supposed to be temporary.” He’s pacing now. “We were shifting assets during the merger with the Jamesons, and someone fucked up the paperwork. We didn’t catch it. And now—”
I swallow, the dread sinking deeper. “Now we’re liable.”
Grant taps the TV remote against his palm, eyes gleaming like he enjoys the drama. “Not just liable. Exposed. Vulnerable. Investors will panic. Rivals will circle. The competitors—”
“Enough,” my father snaps.
I cross my arms to steady myself. “What’s the plan? How do we fix it?”
“We don’t know yet,” my father admits, sliding his hands into his pockets. It’s the first honest thing I’ve heard him say in years. “We’ll weather the storm. We’ve done it before. Just have to tighten the reins. Cut nonessential spending. Delay a few expansions. We’ll get through it.”
Grant leans back casually against the edge of the desk. “Assuming it was just a fire.” His voice dipped in suspicion. “And not someone making a point.”
A chill spikes at the base of my spine. But I shove it down.
“No one is targeting us,” I say, too quickly.
Both men look at me. I glance away. Because the truth is—I don’t know. A fire starting on its own seems unlikely.
I don’t know anything anymore.
