Jaylen’s eyes glistened, but his jaw was hard.
“Your company killed my daddy?”
Wendell did not defend himself.
He did not call it complicated.
He did not mention acquisitions or liability or how many executives had stood between him and the Georgia test site.
He only said, “My company failed him.”
Jaylen took one step back.
That hurt more than Wendell expected.
Mrs. Tate touched her son’s shoulder.
“We don’t need anything from him.”
But the lie could not survive the room.
It was there in the medicine bottle. The past-due notice. The roof leaking sunlight. The boy’s handmade refrigerator box. The mother standing too long because sitting down would admit weakness.
Wendell looked around the shed.
Then he pulled out his phone, which now had one bar of service.
He called Mara.
“Get legal, medical, and engineering on separate lines,” he said.
Mrs. Tate stiffened.
Wendell raised a hand.
“Not for paperwork against them. For paperwork protecting them.”
Mara’s voice snapped through the speaker.
“Wendell, the board is furious. Lawson wants an emergency vote.”
At the name, Wendell’s eyes narrowed.
“Elliot Lawson?”
“Yes. He says your absence is endangering the federal contract.”
Wendell looked at Mrs. Tate.
