Daniel lowered his voice. “Mom, don’t do this.”
“I didn’t,” I said. “You did.”
They stormed out. Marissa slammed the door so violently that the window shook.
Three days later, my phone displayed ninety-eight missed calls.
Most had come from Daniel. Several were from Marissa, while a handful came from numbers I did not recognize.
I listened to only one voicemail.
Daniel’s voice trembled. “Mom, please. Marissa left. The bank froze the accounts. There’s something else you don’t know. Call me back.”
I stared at my phone for a long while.
Then I sent a single message.
“I know everything. Bring the documents, not excuses.”
Part 2
Daniel arrived at 7:12 that evening.
I remember the exact minute because I watched the glow of his headlights move slowly across my living room wall before disappearing behind the maple tree Robert had planted twenty-six years earlier. Daniel did not immediately come to the door. Through the curtain, I could see him sitting behind the wheel, both hands gripping it and his head bowed.
When he eventually approached the porch, he appeared a decade older than he had three days before.
His coat was creased, his hair had not been combed, and he carried a folder beneath one arm while holding a cardboard box with both hands. It was the sort of box people used when they were forced to clear out an office without warning.
I opened the door.
“Mom,” he said.
I moved aside. “Kitchen.”
He entered without protest. That alone told me something inside him had collapsed.
Daniel set the folder on the table, followed by the box. Inside were framed photographs of his family, a company coffee mug, a small bronze award engraved with his name, and a plastic bag stuffed with documents.
“You lost your job,” I said.
His lips shook. “Suspended. Pending investigation.”
I took a seat. “Then start there.”
