Before I can say anything, he walks away, his shoulders pulled back as if hanging on a coat rack.
My phone burns in my palm. I start the message. A warning. A chance to at least prepare herself when there’s a roar from outside.
She’s here.
Antonia’s jeep pulls up in front of the site office, tires sinking into mud. I’m out the door in a heartbeat, opening the driver’s side and offering my arm. I don’t ask if she wants it. I just offer.
“Head high,” I whisper. “Take my arm.”
She looks at me, fear flickering in her eyes. I’ve never seen her nervous. Not really. Not until today.
“Chin up,” I say, trying to smile.
She half-smiles back, steps down from the car, takes my arm, and we walk toward the office together.
“Was Daniel Longdown less deserving than your son?” one reporter shouts.
Antonia hesitates mid-step. I squeeze her fingers with my other hand. They’re ice.
“Will it ever stop?” she mutters under her breath.
I’m not sure I was even meant to hear.
We don’t turn around. We keep walking until we reach the site office. The name Daniel Longdown chases behind.
The words fade as I close the door.
Inside the office, Antonia drops my arm like it scorched her. She straightens, shoulders tall, chin high. The version of her they’re used to.
She doesn’t look at me, pinning her focus on Julian on the opposite side of the room. He stares right back, still as confident as before. The rest of the board flanking him.
“Did you invite them?” Antonia says. No raised voice. No emotion. Somehow that’s worse.
Julian doesn’t flinch.
“We needed to respond.” His eyes narrow, goading her to argue. “You had to.”
“This isn’t the right time.”
There’s a pause, each of them assessing the other.
“We couldn’t let the narrative run unchecked,” he says.
Her face darkens. “Today was meant to be reassurance.” Her voice is level. “Reassurance for our shareholders.”
Julian shakes his head, and the men shift uncomfortably.
“We’ve all read the same headlines.”
Antonia takes a step closer to him, jaw tight, hands clenched, then immediately opening.
“My son’s grave isn’t an agreed PR pivot.”
He exhales again. Loud. Frustrated. “I had no choice. We’re under attack.”
“And leaking a private moment is meant to protect us?”
He looks her square in the eye. How did she know the photo came from him?