Mr. Harrison closed the folder.
“I came here because tomorrow morning, the company will be filing a formal report.”
Mark looked terrified.
“David, please.”
“You had every opportunity to come forward.”
“I can repay it.”
“You can’t repay what you stole.”
Mark looked at me.
Then something happened that I will never forget.
He started crying.
Not because he was sorry.
Because he was afraid.
For the first time in twenty-seven years, I saw him without the confidence, the expensive clothes, the executive title, and the carefully controlled image.
He was simply a frightened man who had run out of places to hide.
“I did it for us,” he whispered.
I stared at him.
“No.”
“I wanted to give you a better life.”
“No, Mark.”
My voice was surprisingly steady.
“You did it for yourself.”
He didn’t answer.
I looked at the folder.
Then at the man who had mocked my work only an hour earlier.
“You thought cleaning houses made me insignificant.”
Mark lowered his head.
“You were wrong.”
Mr. Harrison stood.
Then he looked at me.
“Linda, there’s something else.”
I frowned.
“What?”
He took another envelope from his coat.
“This is for you.”
I opened it.
Inside was a letter.
