Chapter 7
The fire investigation turned criminal within three days.
Electrical failures.
Disabled alarms.
Blocked emergency exits.
Inspection reports falsified.
Victor disappeared before police reached his house.
That told the world what I already knew.
News trucks camped outside the hospital.
Outside my office.
Outside the factory gates.
Coleman Industries stock plunged.
Board members called me every hour.
I stopped answering.
I sat with Anna instead.
Elijah slept in the chair beside her bed, one hand on his backpack.
He kept everything he owned in it.
A toothbrush.
Two shirts.
Miguel’s pocketknife.
The cardboard sign folded carefully.
I offered him a guest room at my house.
He looked at Anna.
She said, “Your choice.”
He looked at me.
“Will there be locks?”
“Yes.”
“Can I lock from inside?”
The question cut deep.
“Yes.”
“Can Mom come?”
“Of course.”
He nodded.
“One night.”
That was how my grandson entered my mansion like a guest in enemy territory.
He stared at the staircase.
The chandeliers.
The paintings.
Then he looked at me.
“You had all this when Mom was sleeping at shelters?”
I did not defend myself.
“Yes.”
He walked away.
Anna heard.
She whispered, “He’s angry.”
“He should be.”
“So am I.”
“You should be too.”
She looked at me strangely.
May you like
“You changed.”
“No,” I said. “I’m seeing clearly. That is not the same yet.”
