Chapter thirty-four
Arthur
Ican hear them before I see them. The front door opening. Voices low, subdued. Footsteps on marble—Henry's quick and light, Lindsay's hesitant. I stand by the door, hands clasped behind my back.
Security called the moment they found them. Then called again with updates on their journey home.
I know every detail of what happened today. The timeline. The outcome.
I don't need to hear it again.
I wait until Henry's footsteps fade down the hall before I move. My steps are measured, deliberate. Each one carefully placed as I descend the stairs.
Lindsay is standing in the entryway, still clutching that ridiculous sparkly bag. She looks up when she hears me, and something in her expression shifts—not fear exactly, but recognition. Like she already knows what I'm thinking.
"Henry's fine," she says immediately. The defensive edge in her voice tells me she's been rehearsing this.
I say nothing. I simply stand there.
"I should have called," she adds. "I know. But we were just—"
"In my office. Now."
She follows without argument.
Once inside, I close the door and turn to face her. Lindsay stands in the center of the room, shoulders squared, chin lifted slightly. Braced for impact.
"I can't believe you took Henry to CAMICon," I say, voice steady. "No security detail. No advance notice."
"It was supposed to be fun," she says. "He wanted to go, and I—"
"You were recognized as the lottery winner."
She swallows. "Yes."
"And then Henry got separated from you."
"Only for a few minutes."
"Long enough to require an announcement over the PA system," I continue. "Long enough to matter."
Lindsay's eyes flash. "I didn't lose him. He wandered off to see a friend. For two minutes."
"Two minutes," I repeat. The number hangs between us, deceptively small. "Security intervened."
"After I asked them to," she counters. "Nothing happened to him."
"That's not the metric," I snap.
"The metric isn't whether disaster occurs," I continue. "It's whether the risk was acceptable in the first place. It wasn't."
I pace the length of the office once, then again.
This isn't just about today. It's about trust. Responsibility.
"Do you have any idea what could have happened?" My voice drops lower, colder. "Not just to Henry, but to you? To us? How many eyes were watching? How quickly a situation like that escalates?"
"I was careful—"
