That mattered.
Instead:
“What would make that sentence less useless?”
Kellen stopped.
He had expected apology.
Money.
Reinstatement.
Not a question.
“I don’t know.”
She nodded.
“Then we don’t pretend today fixes it.”
He looked toward her.
She continued:
“But we can decide what happens next.”
Kellen stared.
There was no flirtation yet.
Not really.
Only something dangerous in its honesty.
Then David called:
“You should both see this.”
They returned.
The flash drive had not been opened.
Instead David’s forensic team had already recovered emails from archived servers after receiving overnight authorization.
One email.
Trevor Hale to Owen Mercer.
Three years earlier.
Subject:
ROYCE.
Body:
If compliance sees his full exception package, validation stops. Security issue gives us a cleaner path. Need the modified file attributed before Friday.
Kellen read it once.
Then again.
He sat down.
Nobody spoke.
Another email.
Owen:
Understood. HR needs objective cause.
Trevor:
Make it objective.
Kellen’s hands started shaking.
Serafina saw.
She did not touch him.
Not yet.
David said:
“This is strong evidence.”
Kellen whispered:
“They framed me.”
Serafina’s voice was quiet.
“Yes.”
The words hurt more than he expected.
For three years, a tiny part of Kellen had wondered whether he had caused it.
Maybe he had been too aggressive.
Maybe preserving screenshots had crossed a line.
Maybe he had become obsessed.
Maybe the termination, even if unfair, had resulted from his own choices.
Now there was an email.
Make it objective.
His life condensed into three words.
Kellen stood again.
This time he could not speak.
Serafina approached.
Slowly.
“Can I?”
He looked at her.
She held out one hand.
Not toward his face.
His shoulder.
He nodded.
She placed it there.
That was all.
Kellen closed his eyes.
For five seconds, he let another person hold part of the weight.
Then stepped back.
“I need to get Amara from school at three.”
Serafina blinked.
The normality of it broke the room.
David checked the time.
11:37.
Serafina asked:
“Will you come back tomorrow?”
Kellen looked toward the evidence.
“Why?”
“Because I want you involved.”
“In what?”
“Finding out how deep this goes.”
He laughed.
“I’m a mechanic now.”
“You’re an engineer.”
“Former.”
“That was a lie somebody wrote into your file.”
Kellen stared.
Serafina continued:
“If you don’t want Vale, I understand.”
“But do not let the people who framed you define the tense of your profession.”
He had no answer.
She looked toward him.
“Come back tomorrow.”
“Not as employee.”
“As independent technical consultant.”
“Paid.”
Kellen raised one eyebrow.
“There it is.”