She stood and walked to the window. "Everything I did after my father's death was about proving he hadn't been wrong to choose me. I kept Richard close because I was afraid removing him would make me look inexperienced. I demanded better reports instead of asking whether the reports were true. And when you arrived, I tried to turn a decent thing you did on the roadside into a story about my judgment."
Daniel did not interrupt. He had learned during long nights with a grieving child that sometimes a person needed to hear their own thoughts outside their head before anyone could help arrange them. Victoria turned back toward him.
"I kept saying I wanted someone who would tell me when I was wrong. Then I made choices that punished people for doing exactly that."
"And now?"
"Now I'm not sure I deserve to run the company."
Daniel studied her. "I don't know whether you deserve it either," he said. She stared at him. Then, despite the seriousness of the moment, she gave a startled laugh. "You really don't make this easy."
"You didn't hire me to make you comfortable."
He looked toward the founder's photograph. "A CEO doesn't earn the job forever because one person believed in them. You earn the right to keep doing it by being accountable for what happens. If the board thinks you should go, they'll decide that. If you think leaving is what your health or your family requires, that's your decision. But don't resign because it feels like the fastest way to stop feeling ashamed."
Victoria was quiet. Shame had become an unfamiliar kind of pressure, different from fear of a missed deadline or a falling stock price. She had imagined that a resignation might serve as proof that she accepted responsibility. Daniel was asking whether she was prepared to remain long enough for responsibility to cost her something more difficult than a signature.
"What would you do?" she asked.
"I'd call the board. I'd tell them everything I got wrong, including the choices nobody can blame on Richard. Then I'd ask what kind of authority they were willing to give me to fix it. If the answer was none, I'd leave. If it was some, I'd get to work."
She looked at the letter. "And if they say I can stay?"
"Then you don't get to act as though you're doing them a favor. You have to listen to the people who keep this place running."
Victoria picked up the letter and held it for several seconds. She did not tear it up in a dramatic gesture. She placed it in a file marked Unsent and called the independent board chair. When she returned to her desk after the call, she looked less certain than she had before, but also more present.
"They want a review of my leadership decisions," she said. "I agreed."
"Good."
"They also want a plan for operating the company while the investigation continues."