He continued.
“Not immediately terminal.”
“Autoimmune disease first.”
“Then complications.”
“She needed appointments.”
“Our daughter was four.”
“I was traveling two hundred days a year.”
“Meridian offered leave.”
“Then remote.”
“I took both.”
“Eventually I realized I cared more about being available than title.”
“What happened to your wife?”
“She died three years ago.”
The CEO looked at him.
“I’m sorry.”
He nodded.
No performance.
No need to ease her discomfort.
She asked:
“And tow truck?”
“My father had a repair shop.”
“He retired.”
“I took over.”
“Smaller life.”
She immediately regretted phrasing.
The father looked at her.
“Smaller?”
“I meant geographically.”
“Better.”
She almost smiled.
“Does it bother you?”
“What?”
“Leaving engineering.”
“Sometimes.”
“Do you miss it?”
“Yes.”
“Do you regret?”
“No.”
“How can both be true?”
He looked through windshield.
“You run a company and still ask that?”
The CEO went quiet.
At 3:18, her executive assistant called.
She answered.
“Where are you?”
The assistant sounded genuinely panicked.
“I have been trying to reach you.”
“My phone works.”
“Security told us not to call because there may be an active threat.”
“Who said?”
“The chairman’s office.”
The CEO sat straighter.
“When?”
“About twenty minutes ago.”
Before she had told the chairman about the module.
Her pulse changed.
“What exactly did they say?”
“That your vehicle had a security event and response protocols were active.”
The CEO looked at the father.
He could see from her face.
She continued:
“Who moved the board meeting?”
“The chairman.”
“At what time?”
“2:46.”
Twelve minutes before she called him.
“Why?”
“He said financing counsel needed vote completed before market close.”
“Market close has nothing to do with a private transaction.”
“I know.”
The assistant lowered her voice.
“Something is wrong.”
The CEO closed her eyes.
Her assistant had worked with her seven years.
She trusted her.
“How many people knew my route?”
A pause.
“Me.”
“Security chief.”