That night, Daniel couldn’t sleep.
He lay awake listening to the quiet of the apartment, watching the rise and fall of Sophie’s breathing through her bedroom door.
Marcus’s words crawled under his skin.
Charity case. Liability.
The same labels people slapped on him since Rachel died, as if grief made him lesser.
But something else nagged at him too.
Marcus had said, This company doesn’t run on feelings.
As if emotions were a flaw.
As if caring about people was weakness.
Daniel sat up, opened his laptop, and logged into Oralless’s internal network using the access he still had as a consultant.
His fingers moved quickly, not just with skill, but with the focus of a man who had learned the hard way that truth doesn’t survive unless you fight for it.
He started searching.
Following code threads, file structures, archived servers.
Hours passed.
The city outside stayed dark and wet.
Then, at three in the morning, Daniel found it.
An archived server marked H-Drive.
Inside: logs from three years ago.
Vehicle diagnostics.
Error reports.
And a chain of emails between Rachel Brooks and Marcus Hail.
Rachel’s warnings.
Marcus’s dismissals.
Her desperate insistence that the flaw was real, that wet conditions changed stopping distance calculations, that they needed to delay the launch.
Marcus’s replies were cold.
Profit-driven.
Careless.
Then, after the accident, a final note.
Bury this. No traces. –MH
Daniel’s hands shook.
He downloaded everything.
This wasn’t just memory.
This was proof.
This was Rachel’s voice, preserved in after they’d tried to erase her.
He stared at the files and felt fear settle in his chest.
Marcus buried it once.
He could bury it again.
And this time Daniel had more to lose.
He had Sophie.
But the bracelet on his wrist warmed against his pulse.
Listen with your heart.
Rachel’s words.
Daniel exhaled and knew there was only one move left.
He had to show Vivien.
Vivien’s office on the top floor smelled like leather and expensive coffee. Floor-to-ceiling windows looked out over Seattle like the city was a chessboard.
Vivien stood by the window when Daniel entered, back straight, hands clasped behind her, staring at the gray sky.
She turned when she saw his face.
Something in her expression tightened.
“You found something,” she said. Not a question.
Daniel laid the files on her desk. He didn’t bother with small talk.
He watched Vivien’s face as she read.
Page by page.
Email by email.
Her expression hardened with each line, as if the truth was chiseling something out of her.
When she finished, she sat down slowly.
Her hands trembled just enough for Daniel to notice.
“My father knew,” she said quietly.
Daniel’s throat tightened.
Vivien’s gaze lifted to his, and for once her CEO armor cracked fully.
“He told Marcus to handle it quietly,” she whispered. “To protect the company’s reputation.”
Daniel’s anger rose like a wave.
“And you did nothing,” he said, voice raw.
Vivien flinched like the words hit skin.
“I was twenty-nine,” she said, voice breaking. “Terrified of disappointing him. Terrified of being seen as weak.”
She turned away, wiping her eyes quickly like she was back in the café, tears forbidden in public.
“I didn’t know the details,” she said, swallowing hard. “But I knew something had been buried. I’ve always known.”
Daniel stared at her, rage and grief wrestling inside him.
“You were fine letting my wife’s death stay… convenient,” he said.
Vivien turned back, eyes wet but steady.
“I hated myself for it every day,” she said. “And I still do.”
Silence stretched between them.
Not peaceful.
Heavy.
Daniel’s hands unclenched slowly.
“I can’t bring Rachel back,” Vivien continued, voice firmer now. “But I can make sure Marcus doesn’t get away with this again.”
“He’ll destroy us,” Daniel said. “He has the board. The lawyers.”
Vivien stood, and something cold and determined slid into place on her face.
“Then we fight smarter,” she said.
For the next two weeks, they built their case.
Daniel worked late nights, cross-referencing files, tracing connections between Marcus’s decisions and vehicle failures. Vivien reached out to journalists and investigators, people who could shine a light Marcus couldn’t easily snuff out.
But Marcus wasn’t stupid.
He moved fast.
First came rumors.
Whispers that Vivien was sleeping with a subordinate. That she was compromised. That her judgment couldn’t be trusted.
Board members started asking “concerned” questions.
Shareholders expressed “unease.”
Marcus played loyal COO, expressing sadness at Vivien’s “poor decisions,” suggesting maybe she needed time away.
Then came the ultimatum.
A closed-door board meeting.
Vivien was given a choice:
Step down temporarily and let Marcus take over as interim CEO, or face a vote of no confidence that would remove her permanently.
Vivien refused.
They voted her out anyway.
That same day, Daniel’s access was revoked. Security escorted him out like he was a thief.
His contract terminated.
Official reason: misuse of company resources.
Real reason: Marcus wanted him gone.
Daniel picked up Sophie from the daycare on the ground floor, hands shaking as he signed to her.
We’re going home.
Sophie’s eyes widened.
Did we do something wrong?
Daniel swallowed past a lump in his throat.
He signed back, slow and honest.
No, sweetheart. We tried to do something right. And sometimes that makes bad people angry.
Sophie frowned, then signed something that made Daniel’s chest ache.
Mom would want us to keep trying.
Daniel nodded, blinking hard.
Yes.
Rachel would.
Three days after Daniel was fired, Sophie helped him pack their apartment.
They couldn’t afford to stay. Daniel found a cheaper place across town, smaller and colder, but it was what he could manage.
Sophie went through Rachel’s old boxes, touching photographs and small trinkets like they were sacred objects.
Then she found an envelope Daniel had forgotten existed.
It was tucked under a stack of papers, marked in Rachel’s handwriting:
For Daniel.
Inside was a USB drive.
Daniel’s hands went cold.
He plugged it into his laptop.
Rachel’s face appeared on the screen.
She was sitting at a desk, eyes tired but determined, speaking directly to the camera like she was trying to outrun fate.
“Daniel,” the video began, Rachel’s lips forming his name with a seriousness that punched him in the gut. “If you’re watching this, it means something went wrong.”
Daniel’s breath caught.
Rachel continued, voice steady.
“I’ve been documenting everything about the vehicle flaw. Marcus keeps shutting me down, but I need this on record.”
The video cut to dash cam footage from a test vehicle.
Rain.
A highway.
Stopped traffic ahead.
The car approached too fast.
Rachel’s voice in the background, urgent.
“Marcus, the overrides are failing. Shut it down.”
But the car didn’t stop.
It slammed into a barrier at full speed.
The screen went black.
Daniel sat frozen, tears streaming down his face.
Rachel had known.
She had tried.
And she had left evidence behind because she knew Marcus would try to erase her.
Sophie touched Daniel’s arm gently and signed.
Mom wanted to tell the truth.
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