She exhales once, uneven. Then steadies. Again.
Always again.
“You recorded the debt,” she says.
I don’t answer. Her eyes lift back to mine.
“Debt recorded,” she says. “You wrote it down like that makes it something you can account for. Like it balances.”
“It does.”
Her mouth tightens. “It doesn’t.” She looks at me like she’s trying to decide whether to be disgusted or impressed. “And that was enough for you? Writing it down? That’s how you live with it?”
“Yes.”
“Did it make you feel better?”
“No.”
She doesn’t stop. “Did you think recording it meant anything?” she presses. “Or was that just… procedure? Something to file so you could move on?”
“Yes.”
Her eyes flash. “What?”
“That it existed.”
She lets out a breath that almost turns into a laugh. It doesn’t.
“How noble,” she says, quieter now but more dangerous for it. “My father died, and you made a note.”
She steps closer to the desk. Closer to me. There’s no hesitation in it. No caution left.
“You brought me here after that,” she says. “After you already knew. I cannot believe you did that. You offered me protection, and youknew.”
My eyes lower. “Yes.”
“And then you watched me hunt,” she continues, faster now, the control slipping just enough to show the pressure underneath. “You let me spend months chasing something you already had. You moved my witness, shut it down when I got too close. You unlocked doors, let Teresa fail to notice things, let me think I was clever.”
“No.”
Her eyes narrow. “Don’t do that. Don’t try to soften it now.”
“Youwereclever.”
“Don’t flatter me.”
“It’s not flattery.”
“No?” she snaps. “Then what is it supposed to be? Compensation?”
“Fact.”
She exhales sharply through her nose, angry at the answer, angrier that it holds.
“You were clever,” I continue. “You saw enough with incomplete information. You built things from fragments. You understood the system faster than men raised inside it.”
Her expression doesn’t change. “Then why stop me?” she demands. “If I was so capable, why interfere? Why not let me finish it?”
