Chapter 3 - The Life Victor Never Asked About
Samuel Reed hated being unemployed.
Not because he missed the driving.
He did.
But that was not the worst part.
The worst part was waking at 5:40 without anywhere he needed to be.
For eighteen years, his mornings had run on rails.
Coffee at 5:45.
Shower.
Weather.
Traffic reports.
Suit.
Garage.
Victor’s townhouse by 7:25 unless the schedule changed.
Now Samuel sat in Rachel’s kitchen wearing sweatpants while Lucy poured cereal into a bowl and missed by an impressive margin.
Milk hit the counter.
Lucy froze.
Samuel stared at it.
She stared back.
“Grandpa.”
“Yes?”
“Don’t be mad.”
“I’m considering it.”
She grinned.
Samuel handed her a towel.
“Clean your crime scene.”
Lucy giggled.
Rachel walked in wearing scrubs and carrying one shoe.
“Why is there cereal on the floor?”
Lucy pointed at Samuel.
Samuel looked offended.
“Betrayal.”
Rachel laughed.
Samuel did not.
That word still bothered him.
Betrayal.
Victor had not used it directly.
He did not need to.
Samuel knew what Victor believed.
Selling schedules.
Sharing routes.
Working against him.
After eighteen years, Victor had looked at Samuel as though the man behind the wheel had been a stranger all along.
Samuel understood why.
That was the uncomfortable part.
He had changed routes.
Repeatedly.
Without permission.
He had hidden Lucy.
Hidden Rachel’s struggle.
Hidden the hospital.
Hidden his fear.
Samuel dried the counter.
Rachel watched him.
“You should call him.”
“No.”
“You miss the job.”
“No.”
“You’ve checked traffic three times this morning.”
“That proves nothing.”
“You put on dress shoes yesterday to buy groceries.”
Samuel pointed the towel at her.
“Mind your business.”
Rachel folded her arms.
“You got fired because you were helping us.”
“I got fired because I changed routes and didn’t tell him.”
“Same thing.”
“No.”
Samuel’s voice became firmer.
“Not the same.”
Rachel looked at him.
Samuel sat.
“I could have told him.”
“Would he have understood?”
Samuel hesitated.
“That’s not the point.”
“It kind of is.”
“No. I decided for him.”
Rachel sat across the table.
Samuel continued.
“I spent months assuming Victor would see me differently if I said I needed time.”
“Wouldn’t he?”
“I don’t know.”
“That’s exactly why—”
“I don’t know,” Samuel repeated.
He looked toward Lucy.
She was arranging cereal pieces by color.
Samuel lowered his voice.
“That’s on me.”
Rachel leaned back.
“Dad, you worked Christmas Eve three times.”
“Four.”
“That helps my argument.”
“I got paid.”
“You missed Lucy’s school play.”
Samuel looked down.
Rachel regretted the words immediately.
“Dad—”
“No. You’re right.”
Samuel rubbed his hands together.
“I kept telling myself the job needed me.”
Rachel said nothing.
Samuel gave a tired smile.
“Truth is, I liked being needed.”
That surprised her.
It surprised Samuel too.
He continued.
“Victor trusted me. He never questioned where I took him. Never checked the car after me. Never asked if I’d be there.”
Samuel looked out the window.
“I was always there.”
Rachel softened.
“And that became who you were.”
Samuel nodded.
“The reliable one.”
Lucy looked up.
“You’re reliable.”
Samuel smiled.
“Thanks, kid.”
“You forget stuff.”
Rachel covered a laugh.
Samuel frowned.
“What do I forget?”
“My purple backpack.”
“One time.”
“Two.”
“Eat your cereal.”
Lucy did.
Samuel looked at his granddaughter.
The device behind her ear caught the morning light.
The matching hearing aid Victor still had was part of the reason Samuel had gone back to the office after leaving the hospital that day. Lucy’s device had been in his coat pocket after an adjustment appointment. He had meant to bring it home.
Instead it had ended up beside Victor’s keys.
Maybe that was fitting.
Two things Samuel had been responsible for.
One represented his work.
The other his life.
He had spent too long pretending they never collided.
Across town, Victor closed the conference room door behind Daniel.
Peter sat two seats away.
Daniel looked from one man to the other.
“This feels cheerful.”
Victor pushed the audit request across the table.
Daniel glanced down.
His smile weakened.
“You used my authorization.”
Daniel sat.
“For a fleet report.”
“You used my name.”
“You would’ve approved it.”
“I didn’t.”
Daniel leaned back.
“Fine. I should’ve asked.”
Victor placed another page down.
“Why did you request Samuel’s route history?”
Daniel’s expression shifted.
“Because I noticed the schedule wasn’t lining up.”
“How?”
“What?”
“How did you notice?”
Daniel looked irritated.
“You’d arrive late.”
“I arrive late regularly.”
“That’s true.”
“Not an answer.”
Daniel glanced at Peter.
Peter lifted both hands.
“I’m decorative.”
Daniel looked back at Victor.
“I started noticing because people I arranged to meet you kept missing you.”
Victor stayed quiet.
Daniel sighed.
“Here we go.”
“Go where?”
“You think this is some enormous conspiracy.”
“Is it?”
Daniel laughed.
“No.”
Victor waited.
Daniel’s shoulders dropped.
“I was trying to get people in front of you.”
“Without telling me.”
“Because when I tell you, you say no.”
“If I say no, that generally means no.”
“That’s your problem.”
Peter shifted slightly.
Victor’s eyes narrowed.
Daniel continued.
“You’ve been making every major decision yourself since Uncle Anthony died.”
“He left me control.”
“Yes. Control. Not divine wisdom.”
Victor stared at him.
Daniel leaned forward.
“You reject proposals before anyone finishes explaining them. You cut family members out because you think disagreement means incompetence. I arranged a few meetings where people could make their case.”
“By ambushing me socially.”
“By creating opportunities.”
“At restaurants.”
“Yes.”
“At clubs.”
“Yes.”
“At my sister’s charity dinner.”
Daniel winced.
“That one was poorly judged.”
Victor almost smiled.
He did not.
“And Samuel’s routes kept me away.”
“At first I thought he was doing it deliberately.”
“Against you?”
“Against me, maybe. Or helping somebody else.”
Victor looked at him.
“So you ordered the audit.”
“Yes.”
“Then you handed it to me.”
“Yes.”
“Knowing what I’d think.”
Daniel held his gaze.
“I knew you’d ask questions.”
Victor’s voice hardened.
“You knew I value loyalty.”
Daniel laughed bitterly.
“That’s the problem, Vic. You value loyalty so much you see betrayal everywhere.”
The sentence landed harder than Victor expected.
Daniel saw it.
Peter looked down at the table.
Victor said, “You manipulated my schedule.”
“Yes.”
“You used my credentials.”
“Yes.”
“You arranged people around me to pressure decisions.”
“Yes.”
Daniel paused.
“But I wasn’t trying to hurt you.”
Victor believed him.
Mostly.
That almost made things more complicated.
“What were you trying to do?”
“Make you listen.”
Silence.
Daniel looked toward the windows.
“My father spent his entire career under your father.”
Victor did not move.
Daniel continued.
“When your father died, you inherited the final word. Fine. I accepted it.”
“Did you?”
“For a while.”
Daniel gave a small shrug.
“Then everything became your call. My projects. Maria’s proposals. Carlo’s financing. People stopped bringing ideas to meetings. They brought them to you.”
Victor said nothing.
Daniel looked at him.
“I handled it badly.”
“Yes.”
“You also created the problem.”
Peter finally spoke.
“Both things can be true.”
Victor glared at him.
Peter shrugged.
“Still decorative.”
Victor looked back at Daniel.
“You’re off operations.”
Daniel stared.
“For how long?”
“Until I decide.”
“Victor.”
“You wanted me to listen.”
Daniel’s jaw tightened.
“I am listening.”
The meeting ended without shouting.
That was somehow worse.
Two hours later, Victor sat alone in his office.
He thought about Daniel’s words.
You value loyalty so much you see betrayal everywhere.
Then he thought about Samuel.
Victor called.
Samuel stared at the unknown number.
Rachel glanced at the screen.
“Answer.”
Samuel picked up.
“What?”
Victor almost smiled.
“Good afternoon to you too.”
Samuel said nothing.
Victor looked at the route reports.
“I talked to Daniel.”
Silence.
Victor continued.
“He was arranging meetings around my schedule.”
“I figured.”
Victor sat forward.
“You knew?”
“Not at first.”
“When?”
“A few weeks before you fired me.”
Victor’s grip tightened on the phone.
“And you didn’t tell me.”
“I wasn’t sure.”
“You noticed.”
“Yes.”
“What?”
Samuel sighed.
“The same faces.”
“Where?”
“Parking garages. Lobby entrances. Once outside the club.”
Victor waited.
Samuel continued.
“I’d take a different route because of Lucy. We’d arrive late. Someone who was supposed to ‘happen’ to be there would already be gone.”
Victor closed his eyes.
“How many times?”
“Enough to notice.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
Samuel was silent.
Victor’s frustration rose.
“Sam.”
“I didn’t know what Daniel was doing.”
“You knew something was wrong.”
“Yes.”
“You could’ve used that when I fired you.”
“Used it?”
“To defend yourself.”
Samuel laughed softly.
No humor in it.
“That would’ve changed what I did?”
Victor frowned.
“What?”
“I changed your routes without telling you.”
“For Lucy.”
“Yes.”
“And they also kept me away from Daniel’s setups.”
“By accident.”
“Later you knew.”
“I suspected.”
Victor stood.
“You could have said you were protecting me.”
Samuel’s voice became hard.
“But I wasn’t.”
Victor stopped.
Samuel continued.
“I was taking a grandfather’s route to a hospital. That’s the truth.”
“You noticed Daniel later.”
“Yes.”
“And still said nothing.”
“I wasn’t going to turn my granddaughter’s hospital appointments into proof that I was loyal to you.”
Victor said nothing.
Samuel’s voice dropped.
“I’d already spent eighteen years proving that.”
The call ended.
Victor stood in the center of his office holding a silent phone.
For years, he had thought loyalty was something people demonstrated to him.
He had never considered what that demonstration might cost.
Now, for the first time, Victor Bellini began looking backward.
May you like
Eighteen years backward.
And what he remembered made the hearing aid on his desk feel heavier every time he touched it.
