"Whatever happens to your job, don't make the next person pay for your fear of somebody more powerful."
Curtis nodded, eyes wet. "I won't."
Malik did not tell him everything was fine. It wasn't. But Curtis's apology had contained no excuse, and Malik could recognize that without pretending the damage had disappeared.
A month after the signing, Malik visited one of Yarrow Industries' manufacturing plants outside Dayton, Ohio. The investment had begun funding equipment modernization and refinancing under the approved plan. Evelyn Marsh accompanied him through the facility with safety managers and union representatives. Machines hummed behind protective enclosures. Forklifts moved pallets along marked lanes. Workers checked precision components beneath bright industrial lights.
A technician named Jerome Watkins, who had worked at the plant for twenty-three years, showed Malik a production line scheduled for an upgrade.
"You really think the new equipment gets us the contracts back?" Jerome asked.
Malik didn't pretend certainty. "I think it gives this plant a competitive chance. The management team still has to deliver. That's why we're going to measure the results."
Jerome nodded appreciatively. "Better answer than a promise you can't make."
They spent an hour discussing training, maintenance, and how new machinery would affect jobs. Malik asked questions and took notes. He listened when a veteran operator explained why a proposed layout created a visibility problem near a loading station. He asked the engineer to review it before installation.
At lunch, Jerome sat beside him at a cafeteria table.
"I saw that video of you," he said after a while.
Malik looked up. "Yeah?"
"I've worked in this company longer than you've been alive. A lot of people here didn't think anyone would ever tell Preston no."
Malik looked toward the factory windows. "It took more than me."
"Maybe," Jerome said. "But you didn't let him turn you into the problem. That counts."
Malik smiled. "I appreciate that."
That afternoon, Malik visited an old equipment bay where photographs of past plant expansions hung on the wall. He noticed a picture taken nearly thirty years earlier: dozens of workers standing in front of newly installed machinery, smiling with the cautious pride of people who had completed something difficult. Malik thought about his father, who had believed that technology mattered only when it improved real work for real people.
He called Denise from the parking lot.
"How'd it go?" she asked.
"Good. We found a few problems in the upgrade plan before they became expensive."
"Sounds like you were paying attention."
Malik laughed. "Yeah."
She paused. "And how are you doing? Not the deal. You."
He considered the question carefully.
"Better. Some mornings I still wake up thinking about the cuffs. Sometimes I hear Preston's voice when I'm trying to work. But it's getting easier."
"I'm glad. Have you talked to the counselor Odell recommended?"
"Twice. It helps more than I expected."
Denise was quiet for a moment. "I'm proud of you. Not because you got the board seat. Because you kept telling the truth when it would've been easier to turn all of this into a contest over power."
Malik looked at the plant behind him. "I didn't always feel that calm."