“All day?”
“Yes.”
“You have the Meridian investor lunch.”
“Move it.”
“Budget review?”
“Thursday.”
“Where are you going?”
“Sunridge.”
Her assistant paused.
“For work?”
Evelyn looked at Daniel’s photograph.
“No.”
The black sedan looked absurd on Birch Road.
Daniel heard gravel beneath expensive tires and walked around the side of the house carrying gardening gloves.
He expected lost tourists.
Instead, Evelyn Carter stepped out.
He recognized her instantly.
Every Arcturus employee knew Evelyn’s face.
She appeared quarterly in internal videos.
Annual reports.
Investor events.
But Daniel had spoken with her directly only twice.
Once during a product launch.
Once when she thanked his team after an emergency migration.
Now the CEO of the company he had left three days earlier was standing in front of his parents’ wooden house wearing white linen and dark trousers.
No assistant.
No security.
Daniel stared.
“Ms. Carter.”
“Daniel Brooks.”
“You drove here.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Evelyn looked toward the house.
“Can we talk?”
“If this is about my resignation—”
“It isn’t.”
“If Margaret sent you—”
“She didn’t.”
“Victor?”
“No.”
Daniel folded the gloves.
Evelyn looked at him.
“I read your file.”
“All of it.”
“Why?”
“Because your departure caused enough disruption to show up in a report.”
Daniel’s mouth tightened.
“So that’s what it takes.”
The sentence hurt more than Evelyn expected.
“Yes.”
She did not defend herself.
Daniel looked toward the yard.
“What do you want?”
“I want to understand why you left.”
“I wrote it down.”
“You wrote family issue.”
“My daughter needs me.”
“I know.”
Daniel looked sharply at her.
Evelyn continued.
“I know about Claire.”
“I know about Lily.”
“You read the medical documentation?”
“No.”
“Good.”
“I read only the request and HR summary.”
Daniel nodded once.
“At least somebody understands boundaries.”
Evelyn accepted that too.
The screen door opened.
Lily appeared.
Yellow sundress.
Bare feet.
Biscuit in one arm.
A crayon tucked behind her ear.
She stared at Evelyn.
Evelyn stared back.
Something moved across Evelyn’s face.
Daniel knew pity.
He had seen it in grocery-store acquaintances.
Teachers.
Neighbors.
People who lowered their voices around Lily.
This was not pity.
It was recognition.
Evelyn crouched slightly.
Not approaching.
Not demanding.
“Hi.”
Lily said nothing.
Evelyn smiled faintly.
“I like your rabbit.”
Lily looked down at Biscuit.
Then back.
Daniel waited.
Lily sat on the porch step.
That was permission enough.
Daniel exhaled.
“Coffee?”
Evelyn looked at him.
The relief on her face was almost invisible.
“Yes.”
They sat on the porch for two hours.
At first, Daniel expected questions about Arcturus.
They barely discussed it.
Evelyn asked about Sunridge.