“Because I want there to be a reason that makes me less ashamed.”
She leaned back.
“And have you found one?”
“No.”
The answer surprised her.
He continued.
“I was under pressure.”
She nodded.
“True.”
“The company was collapsing.”
“True.”
“I hadn’t slept.”
“Probably true.”
“My family name was about to become associated with failure.”
“Also true.”
He looked at her.
“None of those things made my hand move.”
Silence.
“That was me.”
The billionaire studied him.
He seemed older.
Not weaker.
Just stripped of the confidence that had once protected him from examining himself.
“You want forgiveness?”
“No.”
She believed him.
“What do you want?”
He looked toward the new portfolio.
“I wanted to replace something.”
She shook her head.
“You can’t.”
“I know.”
He stared at his hands.
“What happens to me?”
She frowned.
“With the company?”
“Yes.”
“That is the board’s decision.”
“What would you do?”
She thought.
“You’re asking whether I would remove you permanently.”
“Yes.”
She looked through the window.
Traffic moved below.
“You know the company.”
“Yes.”
“You know the customers.”
“Yes.”
“You understand the history.”
“Yes.”
“You also spent years teaching people that bad news was dangerous.”
He looked down.
“Yes.”
“You confused loyalty with agreement.”
“Yes.”
“You protected appearances over engineering reality.”
“Yes.”
“You treated status as proof of worth.”
He swallowed.
“Yes.”
She looked back at him.
“So I would not put you in charge.”
He nodded slowly.
“But?”
She almost smiled.
“You heard a but?”
“I hoped.”
She folded her hands.
“You could still be useful.”
He looked surprised.
“How?”
“Tell the truth about how this happened.”
“To whom?”
“New managers.”
He stared.
She continued.
“Leadership training.”
He actually laughed.
“You want me teaching leadership?”
“No.”
She almost smiled.
“I want you teaching failure.”
The laugh disappeared.
“That might be appropriate.”