Chapter 13 - MY FATHER’S LAST REQUEST
The copy was in the lining of the blue suitcase.
Ruiz’s team had cataloged the suitcase but had not yet taken apart its seams.
Lena told them exactly where to look.
By morning, the letter lay inside a clear sleeve on a conference table.
My father had written it two days before the crash.
Roman,
If Lena brings you something difficult, listen before you defend us.
I stopped there.
My attorney slid a glass of water toward me.
I didn’t touch it.
The letter wasn’t a confession.
It was worse in a quieter way.
My father had known my mother used money to control people. He had ignored it while it served the business.
He had called it judgment.
Discipline.
Protecting the family.
Then he found vulnerable women held inside facilities supported by our foundation, their complaints redirected to the same people benefiting from their silence.
Some were there lawfully and receiving care.
Others had become convenient revenue.
Lena had noticed duplicate invoices first.
My father followed the numbers because she refused to let him dismiss her.
I taught you to respect strength, the letter continued.
I should have taught you to question anyone who needs you weak.
Near the end, he wrote:
Protect your wife. Even from us.
I lowered my head.
There were things I could never apologize to him for.
There were things he could never apologize to me for either.
The dead didn’t become simple just because they were gone.
Ruiz arrived while I was still reading.
“Daniel Price is cooperating.”
My attorney sat straighter.
“What does that mean?”
“It means the crash investigation is being reopened with new evidence.”
She wouldn’t say more.
I respected that too.
My mother’s board meeting was scheduled for Monday morning.
Her lawyers wanted me absent.
Mine advised me to attend.
“Quietly,” my attorney said. “No accusations beyond what we can support.”
“I’m not there to give a speech.”
“Then why go?”
I looked at the letter.
“Because she expects me to hide.”
That evening, Lena called.
“I’m coming.”
“To the board meeting?”
“Yes.”
“You don’t have to.”
“I know.”
Her voice was steady.
“That’s why I can.”
We arranged separate transportation.
Separate entrances.
Whatever she needed.
Before hanging up, she said, “Roman?”
“Yes?”
“I believe you didn’t know.”
I pressed my hand against my eyes.
“But not knowing doesn’t erase what happened.”
“I know.”
“This is a beginning. That’s all.”
“It’s enough.”
At eight the next morning, my mother stood at the head of the boardroom table.
She smiled when I walked in.
May you like
Then Lena entered behind me.
And my mother dropped her pen.
