She said, “You cannot contact anyone.”
“My employees?”
“No.”
“My friends?”
“No.”
“My attorney?”
“We’ll coordinate.”
“How long?”
“Until we secure enough evidence.”
I hated it.
But I agreed.
The plan developed over the next week.
Investigators would allow Garrett and Penelope to believe we were dead.
Estate activity would be monitored.
Financial transfers would be tracked.
Victor’s communications would be intercepted where legally authorized.
The shipyard vote remained delayed.
Then something unexpected happened.
Garrett announced a memorial.
For Tobias and me.
At Mercer Marine.
He planned to speak.
Penelope planned to attend.
Victor too.
Agent Brooks saw opportunity.
So did Tobias.
I saw something else.
A chance to look my husband in the face.
“Absolutely not,” Agent Brooks said.
“I didn’t ask.”
“You’re not attending.”
“I’m dead.”
“Exactly.”
“I could stay hidden.”
“No.”
Tobias looked at me.
“Listen to her.”
I turned.
“You spent thirteen years doing whatever you wanted.”
“That’s why I know when not to.”
I glared.
Agent Brooks said, “The memorial will be monitored.”
“That’s enough.”
I hated her.
Mostly because she was right.
The memorial happened on Friday.
More than two hundred employees attended.
A large photograph of me stood beside one of Tobias.
Flowers surrounded them.
Garrett wore black.
Penelope wore black too.
Victor wore dark gray.
I watched remotely.
Garrett stepped to the podium.
“My wife believed in this company.”
I laughed bitterly.
He continued.
“She believed family responsibility mattered more than personal ambition.”
That was almost funny.
