“About six weeks.”
I turned back.
“Six weeks?”
“Yes.”
“And you never said anything?”
“NO.”
“Why?”
“Because I needed proof.”
This answer worried me.
Not because it was wrong.
Because it was practical.
“You knew that my family had destroyed my life, and you just waited?”
His facial expression changed.
His self-confidence faltered slightly.
“I knew that if I came to you with accusations, you might defend them.”
I opened my mouth.
Then it stopped.
Because he was right.
Five years ago I would have done that.
Even after everything.
I would have found a way to explain her behavior.
“They were my family,” I said.
“I know.”
His voice became softer.
“And that’s exactly why I waited.”
The waiter brought our food.
We didn’t speak a word to each other until he left.
The interruption was strangely helpful.
In real life, dramatic conversations rarely go smoothly.
Sometimes someone had to refill a water glass.
Sometimes the phone rang.
Sometimes the food came at the wrong time.
After a few minutes, I picked up my fork.
“There’s one thing I don’t understand.”
“Was?”
“Why are you working at Whitmore Industries?”
Alexander’s expression became serious.
“This is the part you need to hear.”
Something about his tone of voice made me put down my fork.
“I bought your father’s debts.”
“I know.”
“You don’t know why.”
I waited.
“Whitmore Industries is not worthless.”
I frowned.
“But you said –”
“I said that your father’s company would fail under his leadership.”
The difference was important.
“Why would anyone buy the debt then?”
“Because someone else was about to buy it.”
“WHO?”
He looked towards the window.
“A private investor group.”
I was confused.
“Isn’t that normal?”
“Sometimes.”
His eyes met mine again.
“This group specializes in buying companies after first destroying their reputation.”
I leaned back.
“Was?”
“They were already disseminating information about Whitmore Industries.”
“Why?”
“To lower the price.”
I thought of my father’s panic.
The meetings.
The rumors.
Despair.
“One might think someone wanted to force him to sell.”
“Yes.”
“WHO?”
Alexander remained silent.
Silence returned.
The same silence as in my father’s conversations.
The kind of answer that was complicated.
“I do not know that yet.”
That surprised me.
“You don’t know?”
“NO.”
For the first time, I saw insecurity in him.
No weaknesses.
Humanity.
“I have a suspicion about that.”
“About who?”
He looked at me.
“Your brother.”
I felt my chest tighten.
“NO.”
The answer came too quickly.
Alexander did not disagree.
He was just watching me.
“I know what you’re thinking.”
“Was?”
“That you believed for years that Logan was protected because he was loved.”
I looked down.
“But there is another possibility.”
I hated that sentence.
Because the possibilities were dangerous.
They forced you to question memories you had already accepted.
“What possibility?”
Alexander lowered his voice.
“That he was protected because someone needed him to be useful.”
I stared at him across the table.
The restaurant around us continued to move.
There was laughter at the neighboring tables.
A waiter carried plates towards the kitchen.
Someone dropped a fork and apologized.
The world had the strange habit of continuing to turn, even when one’s own life had just changed.
“What do you say?”
Alexander did not reply immediately.
He reached for his water glass and took a slow sip.
“What I’m saying is that your brother may not have been the person making the decisions.”
I felt a familiar irritation rising within me.
“Logan was responsible for what happened.”
“Yes.”
The answer came promptly.
That silenced me.
Alexander did not defend him.
He didn’t sugarcoat it.
“He made decisions,” Alexander continued.
“These decisions harm people.”
“So where is the problem?”
“The problem is that people like Logan rarely manage complicated financial situations on their own.”
I looked away.
The idea bothered me because it created a new version of the past.
For years I had imagined my brother sitting there alone, making selfish decisions and then leaving everyone else to suffer the consequences.
This version was simple.
This one wasn’t it.
“What makes you think there was someone else there?”
Alexander opened his mobile phone.
He turned the screen towards me.
Several documents were issued.
E-Mails.
Transaction data records.
Calendar entries.
I leaned closer.
“I don’t understand what I’m seeing.”
“Look at the data.”
I followed the highlighted sections.
The first transfer.
Gambling payments.
The meeting that Logan had with an advisor.
Something was wrong.
The timelines didn’t match.
“The money was transferred before the gambling debts became public.”
“Yes.”
“Also?”
Alexander pointed to another document.
“The account used to disguise the transfers was created before Logan had access to the company funds.”
I stared at the screen.
A cold feeling spread through my stomach.
“Someone planned this.”
“That’s my concern.”
I pushed the phone back.
“But why would anyone try to frame me?”
Alexander’s facial expression changed.
That was the question he had been waiting for.
“Because you were the least protected person in the family.”
The answer hurt because it was true.
I hated how quickly my mind accepted that.
For years I had believed that my weakness was the reason I was chosen.
Perhaps it was precisely my weakness that made me useful.
“I need to see the documents.”
“You can.”
“Not through you.”
He nodded.
That surprised me.
“That’s what I expected.”
“I don’t want to owe you everything.”
A small smile flickered across his face.
“I know.”
“You’re not offended?”
“NO.”
He studied me closely.
“I would have been much more worried if you had trusted me blindly.”
That was something else I noticed about him.
Alexander seemed to have no need for admiration.
He seemed to appreciate resistance.
Perhaps that’s why he noticed me.
My whole life I’ve been told that my questions are a problem.
He treated her as proof that I had been paying attention.
After dinner we went back to his car.
The streets were mostly empty.
Thanksgiving night was strangely quiet.
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