"I remember," he said.
"And Dad? Whatever they decide, the worst thing that can happen isn't a title disappearing from your badge. You have a life beyond that tower. I need you to remember that."
He promised he would call when the meeting ended. After hanging up, he placed the Christmas card carefully inside his coat, took a breath, and left the apartment. The cardboard box remained on the table, waiting. He did not know whether he would return to unpack it or finally give its contents a permanent home somewhere else.
Hawthorne Tower looked almost deserted when Nolan arrived. A security employee wished him a merry Christmas and offered directions to the fortieth floor, though the badge still on his jacket allowed him through the elevator gates. Nolan noticed that the badge opened fewer doors than it had before the investigation, a reminder that evidence preservation required neutral restrictions even when someone was trying to do the right thing. He did not resent it. Rules could protect a person as easily as they could be used against him, if they were applied fairly.
Audrey met him outside the boardroom. She wore a dark suit and carried a thin portfolio rather than the heavy stack of reports he had seen the night before. Her expression was composed, but Nolan noticed the slight shadows beneath her eyes. She asked whether he had eaten breakfast and received a look that made her smile despite herself.
"I made coffee," he admitted.
"That's not breakfast."
"It was accompanied by toast. The toast was real."
"Good. We have enough trouble without another emergency."
Then her expression grew serious. "Describe what you personally know. Don't guess at motives. If you don't understand a question, ask them to clarify it. They may try to make this about your credentials, but the evidence doesn't become less useful because of your job title."
"And you?" Nolan asked. "What happens if they decide you were wrong to stop the termination?"
"Then I'll answer for my decision," she replied. "That's part of the job."
He studied her for a moment, then nodded. Whatever happened in that room, she had not asked him to pretend certainty on her behalf. The thought gave him more confidence than any promise of protection would have. They entered together, but they did not sit together. Audrey took her seat among the executives, and Nolan waited near the end of the table where invited technical witnesses were expected to speak.
Seven directors had gathered beneath recessed lights that made the dark oak table shine. Two attorneys sat near the door, and Ellis Reed had arranged several indexed binders in front of his chair. Preston arrived last, his charcoal suit immaculate, his silver hair perfectly combed, and his gold executive badge clipped to a pocket where everyone could see it. He greeted Harold Fenwick with an easy handshake and gave Margaret Voss a nod that suggested confidence rather than concern.
The board chair, a former finance executive named Ruth Delaney, opened the meeting by reminding everyone that confidentiality and accurate minutes were essential. She stated that the purpose was to assess contractual risk and management decisions, not to conduct a criminal trial. The distinction seemed to irritate Preston, who had expected the session to begin with a direct challenge to Audrey's authority. Instead, Ruth asked him to present the operational concerns underlying his request.