Chapter twenty-three
Ben
The flash blinds me as I step out of my car. A lens in my face, someone shouting questions I’m not prepared to answer. Security arrived late, attempting to push back the protesters and media. When I arrived at the retreat, they were already five people deep at the entrance, banners swinging, fists in the air.
My morning coffee hadn’t been enjoyable, every sip more bitter than the last as I read the headlines.
Grieving CEO chooses who lives and dies.
The mother who lost her son takes children from others.
No line called her evil. They didn’t need to. It was implied.
The handle snapped clean off my mug. I hadn’t realized I was gripping it that hard. It hit the floor hard, fragments scattering over the tiles.
I’d checked my calendar.
Today, we have a shareholder walk around at the retreat. An opportunity to show off our progress. Wind-tight walls andwaterproof roofs. The plans for the gardens and relaxation areas. All of which would be tainted by the slander online.
Julian is hiding in the site office when I arrive. The security holds back the press as I weave around the ballooning crowds.
“Tell me what actually happened with Longdown,” I say before he can greet me.
“Two candidates. One, older, on borrowed time. One, a younger drug user. Limited trial stock available. Antonia chose compliance over potential years.”
I nod. It makes sense. With the limited information, I’d have signed the same form.
“Daniel Longdown’s family is louder. It was three years ago, but his mother has never given up,” Julian continues. “And now her allies have microphones.”
“That’s it?”
“That’s the whole story.” Julian exhales.
Before all this, today had felt like a milestone; now it’s another bullet to dodge. There weren’t meant to be any cameras. No hurled questions. It was a walk around to settle the board’s and shareholders’ increasing anxiety.
It is going to have the opposite effect.
And I don’t know if she would be walking into it blind if, by chance, she hadn’t seen the articles.
Over the next twenty minutes, men arrive one by one in suits and tweed jackets. Julian greets each one with a handshake and a nod to the cameras. The crowd has cooled. Still there, but mostly talking among themselves. Hope blooms in my chest that they may give up and go home, as the main spectacle hasn’t arrived yet.
I glance at my phone. No messages. No calls.
Antonia must be on her way.
I walk up to Julian, where he’s chatting to a small group. It looks more like a banker’s water cooler meeting than a charity event.
“Does she know?” I ask him.
His eyes slide to me. He takes a deliberate step away from the group.
“Know what?”
“That you invited the press.”
He freezes only for a moment. I don’t even blink.
“No. If she reacts naturally, it plays stronger.”