Chapter 12 - What Miles Really UnderstoodMiles found the photograph in his mother's study.
It lay beside a stack of legal correspondence.
He recognized the public library immediately.
And he recognized Iris Holloway standing beside Damien.
"Where did this come from?" he asked.
Celeste glanced up.
"What?"
"The photograph."
She looked irritated.
"A security consultant sent it."
"Why are you having someone follow Iris?"
"Because confidential company documents are disappearing."
Miles stared at her.
"She's an employee, not a criminal."
"She's betraying us."
"By talking to Damien?"
"By giving private records to people who want to destroy the family."
Miles placed the photograph on the desk.
"Did you send it to her house?"
Celeste didn't answer.
He felt his stomach tighten.
"Mom."
"I wanted her to understand the consequences of disloyalty."
"That's intimidation."
Celeste stood.
"Don't you dare speak to me like that."
Miles looked at the photograph.
For years, he had helped manage the family business because he believed loyalty was the same thing as responsibility.
Now he was watching his mother punish someone for asking whether the financial records were true.
He stepped away from the desk.
"I'm not doing this anymore."
Celeste laughed.
"Doing what?"
"Calling every bad decision necessary."
Her expression sharpened.
"You signed those approvals, Miles."
"I know."
"You helped build Goldleaf."
"I know."
"You think you can suddenly declare yourself innocent?"
"No."
His voice was quiet.
"That's the problem. I can't."
Miles drove to Damien's workshop that evening.
His brother was working beneath a restaurant freezer when he arrived.
Darius emerged from the storage room.
"He's busy."
"I need to speak with him."
Darius looked him over.
"Does your mother know you're here?"
Miles flinched.
"No."
"Good. Maybe that means you're finally thinking for yourself."
Darius returned to the storage room.
Damien slid out from beneath the freezer.
He wiped his hands on a towel.
"What do you want?"
Miles stood awkwardly.
"To tell you something."
"If it's another warning to stop asking questions, save it."
"It's not."
They went into the small office.
Miles sat in the chair across from Damien's desk.
For several seconds, he examined the stained carpet and aging filing cabinet.
He had always thought of this place as evidence that his brother lacked ambition.
Now he noticed how carefully everything was maintained.
Tools arranged by size.
Invoices filed neatly.
A photograph of Jasmine and Riley taped beside the computer.
It was a small business built on work that could be verified.
"At dinner," Miles began, "when you said you should have fed the girls first, I said I understood."
"Got it," Damien corrected.
Miles nodded.
"Yeah."
Damien waited.
"I knew Mom planned to exclude them."
The admission landed heavily.
"What?"
"She told me before dinner that the restaurant had prepared a special menu for Avery and Brooke. I asked whether Jasmine and Riley needed something different."
"And?"
"She said you could handle their food later."
Damien stared at him.
"You knew before we sat down?"
Miles looked ashamed.
"Yes."
"Then why didn't you say anything?"
"Because I didn't want another argument."
Damien rose so abruptly that his chair scraped backward.
"My daughters sat there watching everyone else eat."
"I know."
"They thought they'd done something wrong."
"I know."
"And you knew it was going to happen."
Miles lowered his head.
Damien turned toward the window.
He wanted to shout.
He wanted to say things that would make his brother feel a fraction of the humiliation his daughters had experienced.
Instead, he asked, "Why are you telling me this now?"
"Because I can't keep pretending I didn't understand."
Damien turned.
Miles's eyes were wet.
"I understood everything, Damien. I understood she was treating them differently. I understood it was wrong. I understood you were hurting. And I did nothing."
Damien sat down slowly.
For a long time, neither brother spoke.
Then Miles reached into his briefcase.
"I brought something."
He placed a folder on the desk.
Inside was a series of Goldleaf financial summaries and an internal schedule of transactions between the consulting company and Lawson Square.
Damien didn't touch them.
"Does Mom know you have these?"
"I'm authorized to access them as CFO. But she doesn't know I've brought copies."
"Why?"
"Because you need the whole record."
Damien looked at the figures.
"Are you confessing?"
"I'm not asking you to forgive me."
"Good."
Miles swallowed.
"I'm asking you to let the right people examine what I signed."
Damien pushed the folder back.
"Give these to Nina and the trust's lawyers. Don't hand me documents I can't properly interpret."
Miles nodded.
"Okay."
Then he hesitated.
"There's something else."
Damien waited.
"The Disney trip was charged through Goldleaf."
Damien closed his eyes.
"Of course it was."
"I intended to reimburse the company."
"Did you?"
"Not yet."
"Then do it."
Miles nodded.
He looked toward the photograph beside Damien's computer.
"How are the girls?"
Damien's expression hardened.
"They're fine when people treat them like people."
Miles accepted the rebuke.
"I'd like to see them."
"That's not my decision alone."
"I understand."
"You need to apologize to them. And then you need to accept whatever they want."
Miles nodded again.
He stood to leave.
At the door, Damien stopped him.
"Miles."
His brother turned.
"Did Dad know Mom was capable of this?"
Miles looked down.
"He was afraid she was."
"Why didn't he stop it?"
"He tried to create rules that would outlast him."
Damien's throat tightened.
"And we let her work around them."
Miles didn't argue.
Before leaving, he said, "There's a confidential agreement related to the Westbridge deal. I found it last night."
"What agreement?"
"A payment to Goldleaf if the sale closes."
Damien stared at him.
"How much?"
Miles looked as though the words physically hurt.
"Three hundred thousand dollars."
Damien gripped the desk.
"Does the trustee know?"
"Not yet."
"Then make sure she does."
Miles nodded.
As he walked toward his car, his phone buzzed.
A message from Celeste appeared.
I know you went to Damien's workshop. Choose very carefully what you tell him next.
May you like
Miles stopped beneath the parking-lot lights.
For the first time in his life, he didn't reply.
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