Chapter 16 - Victor Burns His Own Empire
Gallow Holdings did not survive unchanged.
Three divisions were dissolved.
Two subsidiaries entered federal oversight.
The freight network Victor's father created was dismantled.
Several executives resigned.
Others were indicted.
Victor personally surrendered control of every company tied to Route Seventeen.
Financial analysts called it corporate suicide.
Victor called it cleaning.
For six weeks, he met investigators almost every day.
Harper attended none of those meetings.
Instead, she did something Victor hadn't expected.
She went back to work.
Not at BrightLine.
She resigned.
“Why?” Victor asked.
Harper stood in his kitchen eating cereal directly from the box.
“You bought the company.”
“I purchased its parent company.”
“Same problem.”
“I can sell it.”
“You're missing the point.”
Victor poured coffee.
“What is the point?”
“I don't want my career to exist because you're protecting me.”
“I know you're talented.”
“So do I.”
Victor paused.
Harper smiled.
“That's why I want to earn the next thing myself.”
Victor respected that.
He didn't enjoy it.
But he respected it.
Three weeks later Harper joined a small design studio.
Salary slightly higher.
No connection to Victor.
He secretly ran a background check on the company.
Harper discovered it.
“You promised.”
“I promised not to investigate you.”
“You investigated my employer.”
“Different.”
Harper stared.
Victor sighed.
“I'll work on it.”
“You need hobbies.”
“I have hobbies.”
“Name one.”
He thought.
Harper waited.
“Work.”
“That is not a hobby.”
“Security.”
“Also work.”
“Coffee.”
“You hate coffee.”
“I drink it.”
Harper shook her head.
“We are getting you hobbies.”
And somehow, they did.
Saturday morning walks.
Cooking badly.
Movies Victor pretended not to enjoy.
Harper introduced color into his penthouse.
First pillows.
Then plants.
Then photographs.
Victor objected to none of it after the first week.
Arthur watched the transformation with silent satisfaction.
One evening Victor found a framed photograph beside his desk.
Harper in the elevator.
Victor beside her.
Arthur in the background looking annoyed.
The photograph had been taken by building security on their second morning.
Victor stared at it.
Harper appeared behind him.
“You hate it?”
“No.”
“Should I move it?”
“No.”
She smiled.
Victor touched the frame.
His father had built an empire around secrets.
Victor was rebuilding his life around evidence that people mattered.
There were consequences.
Gallow Holdings' valuation dropped by half.
Victor's personal wealth declined dramatically.
When Harper read the number, she stared.
“You lost how much?”
Victor shrugged.
“Enough.”
“That's not a number.”
“It doesn't matter.”
“You're still richer than several small countries, aren't you?”
“Possibly.”
Harper sighed.
“Tragic.”
But there was one unresolved piece.
Samuel Beckett.
Arthur had received no calls.
No messages.
Nothing.
Until a package arrived.
No return address.
Inside was an old photograph.
Arthur as a child.
Samuel standing behind him.
On the back:
I couldn't be the father you deserved. I can at least stop being the ghost you chase.
Below it was an address.
Montana.
Arthur stared.
Victor stood beside him.
“You going?”
“I don't know.”
Harper appeared.
“Yes, you are.”
Arthur looked at her.
She crossed her arms.
“You two are impossible.”
Victor said, “Don't involve me.”
“You absolutely belong in this category.”
Arthur laughed.
A genuine laugh.
Two days later he left for Montana.
Victor and Harper drove him to the airport.
Before Arthur walked away, he turned toward Victor.
“Try not to create an international incident while I'm gone.”
“No promises.”
Arthur looked at Harper.
“Keep him alive.”
She smiled.
“Full-time job.”
Victor watched Arthur disappear through security.
Harper took his hand.
“You're worried.”
“Yes.”
“He'll be okay.”
Victor looked at her.
“How do you know?”
“I don't.”
She squeezed his hand.
“But sometimes people need to go find the answer anyway.”
Victor thought of his father.
Of Route Seventeen.
Of every answer he'd feared.
She was right.
Again.
May you like
Which was becoming inconvenient.
---
