Side by Side

The boardroom went quiet when Anders Kessler stood up.

"I want it on record," he said, "that I raised concerns about Percival's leadership eighteen months ago. This isn't new. This is finally visible."

Percy's jaw tightened. "The numbers were adjusted mid-quarter. That happens."

"Adjusted," Kessler repeated. "By whom?"

Nobody answered. Emeric, seated three chairs down the wall — not at the table, never at the table — felt every eye that didn't quite land on him anyway.

After the meeting, Thea caught him in the stairwell.

"I found something," she said, voice low. "In the shared drive. An old folder, mislabeled, from six years ago. Emeric, it's every quarterly report Percy's ever presented. And the drafts underneath them don't match the final versions."

"Thea—"

"The handwriting on the draft notes. I've seen your handwriting, Emeric. On expense forms, on merger memos, everywhere. It's yours."

He said nothing.

"How long?" she asked. "How long have you been doing this?"

"Since we were kids."

Thea sat down hard on the stairwell step, like her legs had stopped agreeing to hold her up. "That's not loyalty. That's—" She stopped herself.

"Say it."

"That's you disappearing so he can stand somewhere."

Emeric almost told her about the study window, about Gideon's voice saying *go to your room*, about twenty years of practicing another man's signature until his own handwriting had started to look like a stranger's. He almost told her everything.

Instead he said, "It's complicated."

"It's not," Thea said. "It's simple. You just don't want to look at it."

His phone buzzed. Unknown number.

*This is Roman Voss, financial correspondent. I have documents with your login credentials attached to Percival Ravenscroft's signature. I'd like your comment before we go to print tomorrow.*

Emeric read it twice. Then a third time, because the second line hadn't changed.

*Before we go to print tomorrow.*

Tomorrow.