“Emails.”
“Offshore transfers.”
“Enough to destroy him.”
Ethan stared.
“You’re going to authorities.”
“Tomorrow.”
“Why now?”
Sophia’s eyes filled.
“Because ten years ago I believed saving my mother meant surrendering my life.”
“I don’t blame myself for choosing her.”
“But after she died, I kept surrendering.”
“To fear.”
“To guilt.”
“To him.”
She looked directly at Ethan.
“And yesterday I saw you on that highway.”
“You had grease on your hands.”
“A truck older than some of my employees.”
“A little girl who clearly runs your entire life.”
Despite himself, Ethan smiled.
Sophia continued.
“And you looked more free than I have felt in ten years.”
He did not know what to say.
She stepped closer.
“I don’t expect you to take me back.”
“This isn’t about that.”
“It has to be about me finally becoming someone who could deserve a second chance even if you never give me one.”
Ethan looked at the flash drive.
Then at her.
“You’re scared.”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
She almost laughed.
“Good?”
“It means you understand the cost.”
He picked up the drive.
Then gave it back.
“But you don’t give this to me.”
“Why?”
“Because if something happens…”
“Don’t.”
“I’m serious.”
He stepped closer.
“You take it to a lawyer.”
“A prosecutor.”
“Three places.”
“Not one mechanic who has already been threatened with money.”
Sophia smiled faintly.
“You always were annoyingly practical.”
“You loved it.”
The words escaped.
Both froze.
Ethan looked away first.
Sophia’s voice softened.
“Yes.”
“I did.”
Silence filled the garage.
Rain had stopped.
Outside, mountain air moved cold through the open bay.
Sophia stood close enough that Ethan could smell her perfume.
Different from ten years ago.
Or maybe his memory had changed.
She reached toward his hand.
Stopped before touching.
“Can I?”
The question almost broke him.
Ten years earlier Sophia would have taken his hand without asking.
Now she understood that history did not grant access.
Ethan turned his palm upward.
She placed her hand inside it.
Warm.
Soft.
Real.
They stood like that.
No kiss.
Not yet.
Some moments were more intimate without one.
“Lily asked about you,” Ethan said.
Sophia smiled.
“What did she ask?”
“If rich people eat regular cereal.”
Sophia laughed.
“What did you say?”
“That I had no idea.”
“She wants an investigation.”
“Obviously.”
Sophia’s expression softened further.
“She’s wonderful.”
“She is.”
“You did well.”
“We did.”
“Hannah and me.”
Sophia nodded immediately.
“Yes.”
“Sorry.”
“Don’t be.”
Ethan looked toward the framed photograph on his office shelf.
Hannah holding five-year-old Lily.
Both covered in flour.
Sophia followed his gaze.
“You still love her.”