Then I continued.
“I believe you didn’t know because you didn’t care whether they were true.”
His relief evaporated.
“That isn’t fair.”
“Fair?”
I almost couldn’t say the word.
“You stood on a stage and accused me of misconduct in front of four hundred people.”
“I was protecting the company.”
“No. You were protecting your promotion.”
“I had been told—”
“You wanted to believe it.”
His jaw clenched.
“You think owning shares suddenly makes you understand leadership?”
There he was again.
The man beneath his unspoken apology.
I studied him for a long moment.
“My mother invested in this company before you knew what it was.”
“Your mother.”
“Yes.”
“Not you.”
His remark struck its intended wound.
For an instant, I returned to that hospital memory.
Mother’s fragile hand held mine.
Her reminder that stewardship outweighed showmanship.
Noticing my hesitation, Camden approached.
“You inherited money, Elena. I built something.”
