“Trusting Vanessa wasn’t evidence against you.”
“People lied.”
“That belongs to them.”
I looked at the water.
For months I had treated my own kindness like part of the crime.
As if being deceived meant I had helped deceive myself.
Maybe Noah was right.
We threw the flowers into Evermere River.
They drifted downstream.
I watched until I could no longer distinguish them from the light on the water.
Six months later, Mercer Holdings reopened the rebuilt river terminal.
It was not a revenge event.
I refused to make it one.
No speeches about Adrian.
No photographs of his father.
No celebration of their convictions.
The terminal was about our employees.
Our parents.
Our grandfather.
And what came next.
Hundreds of workers stood near the loading area.
