The police took the threat seriously.
So did federal investigators once they saw the Atlas evidence.
For the first time, Charles Sterling's power couldn't keep everything contained inside boardrooms and private offices.
But Renee had another battle.
Her transplant.
Dr. Vance wanted her admitted immediately.
Renee resisted.
"The board vote is Friday."
"If you don't receive treatment," Dr. Vance said, "Friday may become irrelevant."
That ended the argument.
Renee entered the hospital the following morning.
I went with her.
Four years earlier, I couldn't walk through those doors without feeling Sarah's death closing around my throat.
Now I knew every elevator.
Every coffee machine.
Every uncomfortable chair.
Grief hadn't disappeared.
Something else had simply grown beside it.
Renee.
The transplant preparation was brutal.
She became weaker before she could become stronger.
Some days she barely spoke.
Lily visited when doctors allowed it.
She brought drawings.
One showed Renee wearing a superhero cape.
Renee smiled.
"Why am I bald?"
Lily shrugged.
"Superheroes don't need hair."
Renee laughed so hard she had to stop because it hurt.
That drawing remained beside her bed.
Meanwhile, the investigation moved forward.
Maya, Thomas, federal investigators, and Renee's attorneys assembled the evidence.
Charles Sterling had spent years building a network of shell companies positioned to acquire Atlas assets if Renee lost control.
Victor Hale had manipulated internal financial records.
Marcus had served as an intermediary.
But Marcus's role was more complicated than we initially believed.
He agreed to cooperate.
When I met him with investigators present, he looked nothing like the confident man from the fundraiser.
"What did Charles have on you?" I asked.
"Debt."
"That's it?"
"At first."
Marcus admitted he had accumulated enormous gambling and investment losses before meeting Renee. Charles learned about them and offered to erase the debt in exchange for information.
Marcus agreed.
Then he fell in love with Renee.
At least, he claimed he did.
When Renee became sick, Charles ordered Marcus to leave.
"Why?"
"Isolation," Marcus said.
"He wanted her emotionally isolated. Easier to portray as unstable. Easier to pressure."
I wanted to hit him.
"You abandoned a dying woman because someone paid your debts."
His face tightened.
"I know what I did."
"Good."
"But I didn't threaten Lily."
"Who did?"
"Victor."
That fit the financial trail.
"Charles told him to scare Thomas and you away."
"And the SUV?"
"Victor again."
Marcus provided messages.
Enough to corroborate major pieces of the investigation.
Still, Charles denied everything.
Through attorneys, he claimed Victor had acted independently and that Marcus was lying to save himself.
The board vote remained scheduled.
Renee couldn't attend physically.
She insisted on appearing by secure video.
The morning of the meeting, I sat beside her hospital bed.
"You don't have to do this."
"Yes, I do."
"No company is worth dying for."
"It's not the company."
"What is it?"
"The people."
The answer reminded me of our first night together.
3,800 employees.
Not numbers.
People.
Renee appeared on the boardroom screen wearing a dark jacket over her hospital gown.
She looked fragile.
But when she spoke, her voice was steady.
Charles sat at the opposite end of the long table.
"My niece should be recovering," he said.
Renee looked directly into the camera.
"I agree."
"Then relinquish temporary authority."
"No."
Charles sighed.
"This is exactly what concerns us. Your judgment is being influenced by emotion and by people with no understanding of this company."
He meant me.
Renee smiled faintly.
"Interesting."
Then her attorney entered the boardroom.
Federal agents followed.
Victor Hale stood.
Charles didn't move.
The attorney announced that evidence concerning unauthorized transfers, corporate espionage, and attempted misappropriation of protected intellectual property had been provided to authorities.
Chaos erupted.
Charles remained composed.
"You are humiliating this family."
Renee's face changed.
"No, Uncle Charles."
She looked directly at him.
"You did that yourself."
Victor was escorted out for questioning.
Charles wasn't arrested that day.
The investigation needed more.
But the board vote was suspended.
Renee retained her authority.
She closed the laptop.
Then immediately vomited.
I held the basin.
That was the reality behind the dramatic victory.
There was no triumphant music.
No champagne.
Just a sick woman shaking in a hospital bed while I held her hair out of instinct before remembering she didn't have any.
She looked at me.
"You can laugh."
"I absolutely will not."
"You reached for my hair."
"I panicked."
She smiled weakly.
"Daniel?"
"Yeah?"
"If I survive this…"
She stopped.
"What?"
"Nothing."
"That's annoying."
"I know."
The transplant took place that evening.
Afterward, there was nothing to do except wait.
Days passed.
Then more.
Her immune system was dangerously weak.
Visitors were restricted.
I spent hours outside the room when I couldn't enter.
One night, Dr. Vance found me asleep in a chair.
"You should go home."
"I have been told that before."
"You're terrible at listening."
"So was my wife."
Dr. Vance sat beside me.
"You loved her very much."
"I still do."
"You know loving someone new doesn't erase that."
I looked at her.
"I didn't say—"
"You didn't need to."
Doctors apparently enjoyed being irritatingly observant.
Renee developed a fever three days later.
Then pneumonia.
Suddenly, every nightmare returned.
Monitors.
Doctors.
Urgent conversations.
Words like oxygen saturation and cultures and complications.
I stood outside Renee's room and I was back four years earlier.
Sarah dying.
My hand against the glass.
The world collapsing.
I couldn't do it again.
I turned toward the elevator.
Then I saw something taped beside Renee's bed.
Lily's superhero drawing.
I stopped.
Sarah's letter came back to me.
Choose Lily over revenge.
But Sarah had taught me something else too.
Love wasn't valuable because it lasted forever.
It was valuable because it existed at all.
I turned around.
I went back.
When they finally allowed me inside, Renee was awake.
Barely.
I took her hand.
"Hey."
"Daniel."
"I'm here."
She tried to smile.
"Again."
"Apparently, you can't get rid of me."
Her fingers tightened weakly.
"I'm scared."
"I know."
"What if this doesn't work?"
I wanted to tell her everything would be fine.
I couldn't.
I'd learned what false promises cost.
So I said, "Then you won't be alone."
Tears slipped toward her ears.
She closed her eyes.
I stayed.
At 2:07 a.m.—exactly the same time she'd called me weeks earlier—the monitor beside her bed changed.
I stood.
A nurse entered.
Then another.
My heart stopped.
Dr. Vance appeared.
She examined Renee, checked the screen, and looked at me.
"What?"
The doctor smiled.
"Her numbers are beginning to improve."
I stared at her.
"What does that mean?"
"It means we may be seeing early engraftment."
Hope is dangerous when you've lost someone.
You don't trust it.
You examine it.
Question it.
Prepare yourself for it to disappear.
But over the following days, Renee's blood counts continued improving.
Slowly.
Unevenly.
But improving.
One morning, I entered and found her sitting upright.
She looked terrible.
I told her so.
"You're very romantic."
I froze.
She froze.
Then we both laughed.
Renee looked down at our hands.
"The contract ends in four months."
"Okay."
"Do you ever think about that?"
"Sometimes."
"What happens then?"
Before I could answer, my phone rang.
Thomas.
"They got him."
"Who?"
"Victor talked."
My heart accelerated.
"He gave them Charles."
Victor had turned over communications, account records, and recordings.
Charles Sterling's denials were collapsing.
But Thomas wasn't finished.
"There's something else."
"What?"
"Charles ordered the photograph of Lily."
I looked at Renee.
"And the SUV?"
"Yes."
My grip tightened around the phone.
Then Sarah's words returned.
Choose Lily over revenge.
I exhaled.
"What happens now?"
"Now," Thomas said, "we let the law handle him."
For once, my brother and I completely agreed.