PART 11:

Nathan didn’t know what to say to that, so he just sat there in his destroyed garage with evidence scattered around them and his daughter doing homework in the corner and tried to believe that tomorrow might actually matter. That night, Vivien stayed not in a hotel in Cincinnati or her empty Chicago apartment, but in the garage. She helped Nathan organize the recovered photos and supporting documentation.

They worked until midnight building a timeline that connected the original engineering report to the executive board meeting to 10 years of ignored warnings to 73 deaths. Around 1:00 a.m., Ellie wandered downstairs in her pajamas. “Can’t sleep again?” Nathan asked. “Viven’s still here. She’s helping with work stuff.

Ellie climbed onto Nathan’s lap, her small weight warm against his chest. Is she going to stay forever? She has her own house in Chicago. But she’s here a lot now. Nathan exchanged a glance with Vivien, who was trying very hard to look busy with her laptop. She’s helping Dad with important stuff. I know, the superhero stuff. Ellie yawned.

I like when she’s here. She makes you smile more. I smile plenty. Not like when she’s here. Ellie looked at Viven seriously. Do you like my dad? Viven’s fingers froze over her keyboard. I Yes, your dad is a good person. Tommy says when grown-ups work together late and smile a lot, it means they like like each other.

Tommy really needs to stop being the town relationship expert. Nathan muttered. So, do you like like him? Viven met Nathan’s eyes across the garage. Something passed between them that Nathan couldn’t quite name, but felt in his chest like a physical weight. “Yes,” Vivian said quietly. “I like like him.” Ellie grinned triumphantly. “I knew it.

” Nathan felt his face getting hot. “Bed right now before you cause any more trouble.” “But I was right. Bed.” He carried Ellie upstairs and tucked her in, listening to her chatter about Tommy’s mom’s predictions and whether Viven would come to her next soccer game and if rich people knew how to make pancakes.

When he came back down, Vivien was packing up her laptop with very deliberate focus. Sorry about that, Nathan said. She’s at the age where everything is very dramatic and simple. Is it wrong? What she said? Nathan stopped. What? Vivien turned to face him. Is it wrong that I like you? That somewhere between documentation and federal prosecutors and fighting your fights, I started caring about you as more than just a witness or a partner in this mess.

I Nathan didn’t have words. This isn’t the time. We’re in the middle of I know. I know the timing is terrible and we have a meeting tomorrow that could determine everything and my life is a disaster right now. She stepped closer. But your daughter asked a direct question and I gave an honest answer because apparently you’ve taught me that honesty matters even when it’s inconvenient.

Nathan’s heart was doing something complicated in his chest. Viven, you don’t have to say anything back. I just needed you to know that he kissed her. It was clumsy and awkward and tasted like coffee and evidence and desperation. Viven made a surprise sound and then kissed him back, her hands coming up to grip his shirt like she was afraid he might disappear.

When they broke apart, they were both breathing hard. That was Vivien started. Yeah, we should probably We really shouldn’t, but we’re going to anyway. Probably. They stood there at the flickering fluorescent light of Nathan’s garage, surrounded by 10 years of evidence and tomorrow’s uncertainties, and kissed again because the world was falling apart around them, and they’d both been alone for too long.

Later, Vivien fell asleep on the couch in Nathan’s office, her expensive coat draped over her like a blanket. Nathan covered her with something warmer and sat at his desk, staring at the photos that would either save them or mean nothing at all. The sun came up over Ashton Ridge the same way it always did, indifferent to hopes or fears or federal prosecutor meetings that might change everything.

They left for Cincinnati at 7:00 a.m. Margaret agreed to take Ellie to school and pick her up after. Nathan wore his one good suit that he’d last worn to his wife’s funeral 8 years ago. It still didn’t fit right. Viven drove. She was quiet, her hands tight on the steering wheel. “You okay?” Nathan asked, terrified.

“That’s honest. I’m trying this new thing where I tell the truth even when it makes me look weak. She glanced at him. Learning from a good teacher. The federal building in Cincinnati was all glass and steel and security checkpoints. They were escorted to a conference room on the eighth floor where three people waited.

Assistant District Attorney James Warren, FBI special agent Lisa Chen, and a woman in a suit so sharp it could cut glass who introduced herself as Deputy Director Sarah Mitchell from the Department of Justice. Nathan had never felt more out of place in his life. Mr. Keller, Miss Cross, Warren gestured at chairs. Thank you for coming. They sat.

Nathan’s hands were sweating. Warren spread the photos across the conference table. These are remarkable. Where did you get them? They were hidden in a repair order shipment, Nathan said. We think someone inside Crossline took them during the executive board meeting and sent them to me for safekeeping. Agent Chen leaned forward.

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