the painted constellations of Grand Central Terminal.
Morning light poured through the tall windows, turning dust into gold. Commuters hurried across the marble floor, carrying coffee, briefcases, flowers, and ordinary concerns.
Our secret felt almost absurd in such a public place.
My father arrived wearing the same suit he had worn to my wedding. He looked as though he had not slept.
When he saw Jason, his expression changed.
“You.”
Jason stopped.
“You remember me?”
My father’s eyes narrowed.
“You came to Northbridge after I submitted the report.”
Vivian looked sharply at Jason.
He remained calm, but his fingers curled at his side.
“I was sent to review the accounts.”
“You told me there was no evidence of theft.”
“There wasn’t. Not in the records you gave us.”
“You called my report careless.”
“I called it incomplete.”
“You destroyed my credibility.”
Jason’s voice lowered.
“I was wrong.”
