Part 11:
The Honda started on the third try, coughing black smoke that made the valet step back in alarm. Tomorrow he’d look at new cars. Maybe the elementary school was a cheerful chaos of children and science projects the gymnasium transformed into a maze of cardboard presentations and volcanic demonstrations. Daniel found Ethan standing proudly beside a poster about electromagnets his project held together with tape and hope, but his enthusiasm undimemed.
Dad, Dad, look, it really works. Ethan demonstrated his creation, a small motor powered by copper coils and magnets. Mrs. Patterson says it’s very impressive for third grade. It’s amazing, buddy. Daniel knelt beside his son, ignoring the pull in his healing arm. You did this all yourself. Well, Mrs.
Chen helped a little, but I did the research. Did you know that electromagnets are in everything? Cars, computers, even doorbells. As Ethan explained his project with the intensity only an 8-year-old could muster, Daniel noticed other parents giving him sidelong glances. Some recognized him from the news coverage, whispering behind hands about the mall hero.
Others simply saw what they’d always seen, a single father in worn jeans among the suburban prosperity out of place in the sea of two parent families and SUVs. “Is your arm better?” Ethan asked, suddenly, interrupting his own explanation about magnetic fields. “Getting there.” Tommy’s mom said you were brave, that you saved someone.
Daniel had tried to shield Ethan from the details, but kids talked. I helped someone who needed it. Like mom would have wanted. Yeah, buddy. Like mom would have wanted. They stayed until the fair ended. Ethan winning a participation ribbon that he clutched like Olympic gold. On the drive home, the Honda’s engine making increasingly concerning noises, Ethan chattered about his next project idea, something involving solar panels and tiny motors.
That sounds expensive, Daniel said carefully. Maybe I could get a job. Tommy delivers newspapers and makes $5 a week. The innocence of it thinking $5 could buy solar panels made Daniel’s chest ache. Tomorrow he’d have his first real paycheck from Donovan Technologies. More money than he’d ever seen at once. Enough to buy solar panels and electromagnets and whatever else Ethan’s curious mind wanted to explore.
But tonight, they’d have spaghetti from a box and watch cartoons on their secondhand TV, and that would be enough because they were together. His phone buzzed with a text from Clara, “How was the science fair?” He typed back one-handed while waiting at a red light. Electromagnets are apparently in everything.
I’ve been informed of this repeatedly. Lily’s current obsession is butterflies. I now know more about metamorphosis than any adult should. The things we do for our kids. The things we do. There was something intimate about texting her while driving home to his shabby apartment like they were just two single parents navigating the impossibility of raising children alone.
Not CEO and security director. Not billionaire and workingclass. Just Clara and Daniel bound by the shared experience of loving children more than life itself. That night, after Ethan was asleep, Daniel sat at his laptop researching Donovan Technologies security vulnerabilities. The more he dug, the more problems he found.
It wasn’t just Marcus’ incompetence. It was systematic, like someone had deliberately created gaps in coverage. Either Marcus was worse at his job than anyone realized, or something else was going on. He made notes mapping vulnerabilities like he’d once mapped insurgent networks in Kandahar. By 2:00 a.m., he had 20 pages of observations and recommendations.
His arm throbbed, reminding him he was supposed to be taking it easy, but this felt important, critical even. His phone rang, startling him. Clara’s name appeared on the screen. “You’re awake,” she said without preamble. “So are you?” “I don’t sleep much. Haven’t since the divorce.” “You haven’t since Sarah.” Silence stretched between them comfortable somehow.
I’ve been reviewing Marcus’ files, Daniel said. There’s something wrong here. The gaps in security, they’re too consistent to be accidental. You think Marcus was compromised? I think someone was feeding information to whoever’s probing your networks. Maybe Marcus. Maybe someone else, but definitely someone inside.
Clara was quiet for a moment. Can you prove it? Give me a few days. Daniel, if you’re right, this is bigger than just corporate espionage. We have classified defense contracts. This could be treason. I know. Be careful. If someone inside is compromised and they know you’re investigating, I’ve dealt with worse threats than corporate spies.
Have you in Afghanistan? You knew who the enemy was. Here they wear suits and smile while planning your destruction. Sounds like you’re speaking from experience. My ex-husband tried to take the company during the divorce, said I was an unfit mother, too focused on work. The man who’d built his career on my father’s connection suddenly discovered feminism when it meant potentially getting half my assets.
Bitterness crept into her voice. I learned that the most dangerous enemies are the ones who know your vulnerabilities. What happened? I won. I always win. But it cost me things I can’t get back. Time with Lily. trust in people, the ability to sleep without wondering who’s planning to destroy me next. Daniel understood that kind of hypervigilance, the exhausting state of constant threat assessment.
