It wasn’t.
It was simply the comfort of never being challenged.
Now, challenged at last, he looked small.
“You recorded me?” he whispered.
“No,” Simone said. “Your own conference room system did. You approved the archive retention policy yourself.”
A strange quiet settled over the room.
The kind of quiet that comes after a lie loses oxygen.
Dominic turned to Celeste.
“Don’t look at me like that. Your father needed this deal too.”
Celeste stepped away from him.
“You told me she was unstable.”
Dominic said nothing.
“You told me she was obsessed with you.”
Still nothing.
“You told me she made up the pregnancy.”
He looked toward the baby.
My daughter opened her eyes for the first time.
Dark.
Calm.
Alive.
Celeste began to shake.
I did not forgive her.
But I watched the truth reach her, and I understood that truth does not care who deserves it.
