Chapter 13 - Gregory Asked to See Me One Last Time
Gregory wrote me from prison.
I threw away the first letter unopened.
The second too.
The third arrived through my attorney.
He says he has information related to someone who may still be involved in the Apex network.
That got my attention.
Leo hated the idea.
Not because he feared Gregory physically.
Because he feared what seeing him would do to me.
I almost declined.
Then I remembered something.
For months, Gregory made decisions based on what he assumed I could tolerate.
I refused to let my fear make the decision either.
I agreed to a monitored conversation through prison glass.
Gregory looked older.
Gray at his temples.
Thinner.
He smiled when I sat down.
The smile made my skin crawl.
“You look good.”
“Why am I here?”
“No small talk?”
“No.”
He leaned back.
“Still dramatic.”
I nearly stood.
Then he said:
“Avery wasn't the one who chose you.”
I stopped.
“What does that mean?”
“You were selected before the first fraudulent login.”
“By whom?”
“Wren.”
“Why?”
Gregory tapped the glass.
“Your brother.”
My stomach tightened.
“Explain.”
Ben had worked part-time for a vehicle graphics company before his accident.
One of their clients printed replacement fleet decals for Apex.
Ben unknowingly copied an invoice showing dozens of “replacement” decals ordered for trucks that officially did not exist.
Ghost fleet vehicles.
Used for illegal transfers.
“He emailed the invoice to you,” Gregory said.
“When?”
“Months before the crash.”
I remembered.
Ben sent me receipts constantly because I helped with his taxes.
I never opened most.
“Wren’s people learned the invoice went to your email.”
“So you were assigned to watch me.”
“Yes.”
My hands went cold.
“The harassment?”
Gregory’s expression shifted.
For the first time, shame flickered.
“I liked you.”
“Don't.”
“I did.”
“You targeted me.”
“Yes.”
“Then you used the fact I couldn't afford to quit.”
Silence.
“Yes.”
Hearing him admit it did not heal anything.
But it killed one last lie.
“What happened to the email?”
“Probably still in your old account.”
Investigators found it in archived cloud storage.
Attached was the original invoice.
Vehicle identification numbers.
Production codes.
The ghost fleet.
Enough to identify three more shell companies.
Enough to recover millions in assets.
Enough to compensate victims harmed by counterfeit medicine distribution.
Gregory had finally provided something useful.
That did not make him good.
People often want redemption to work like arithmetic.
One truth minus ten crimes equals improvement.
Life is not accounting.
Gregory asked before I left:
“Do you forgive me?”
I looked through the glass.
“No.”
His face changed.
I continued.
“But I don't wake up thinking about you anymore.”
That hurt him more.
I stood.
“You were never the center of my story.”
I left.
Outside, Leo waited beside his car.
Not inside the prison.
Not hovering.
Waiting where I had asked him to.
“How was it?”
“Strange.”
“Want to talk?”
“Later.”
He opened the passenger door.
I looked at him.
“Dinner first.”
“Yes, ma'am.”
“Never say that again.”
“Understood.”
We drove toward Ben’s apartment.
He had invited us to celebrate.
Not the invoice.
His new job.
A design firm promoted him to project coordinator.
He had also started driving again.
The first time he got behind the wheel, I nearly had a panic attack.
He made me sit in the passenger seat anyway.
“Stop grabbing the door handle.”
“I’m not.”
“You're white-knuckling it.”
“Drive.”
“You're worse than Dad.”
That word used to hurt.
Now it felt warm.
Our father had died when we were teenagers.
Ben remembered him teaching me to drive.
I remembered too.
That night, we ate Chinese takeout around Ben’s table.
Adrian joined us.
Maya arrived late.
Leo brought wine.
Rebecca brought a cake nobody asked for.
It was messy.
Loud.
Normal.
At one point, I looked around the table and realized something.
A year earlier, nearly every decision I made revolved around losing things.
Job.
Money.
Ben’s care.
Safety.
Dignity.
Now my life contained people I had chosen.
Not because I needed them to survive.
Because I wanted them there.
Leo caught me staring.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“That's never true.”
I smiled.
“Just thinking.”
“Dangerous.”
“Very.”
Under the table, his hand rested near mine.
Not on it.
Near.
I turned my palm over.
He understood.
His fingers closed gently around mine.
May you like
Still asking.
Even now.
