Chapter 5: The Words on Page 44
Marcus’s hands shook as he stared at the forged rejection letter. Victoria had falsified the investigation twelve years ago to protect the company's liability insurance, framing Arthur Campbell for a catastrophe caused by faulty cooling units. She had saved the company twenty million dollars—and condemned a heroic widow and two unborn children to a decade of starvation.
Marcus opened Arthur's charred notebook again. The edges were crumbly, smelling of old carbon and copper.
He turned to page forty-four.
The handwriting was shaky, written on yellow lined paper during those final agonizing minutes inside the burning corridor:
> *"Marcus,*
> *If you're reading this, it means you made it out. It means you survived the fire and built that future you wouldn't stop talking about in the breakroom.*
> *I don't regret closing that vault door. A man doesn't weigh his life against another's; he just does what's right in front of him.*
> *I only have one fear. My wife, Sarah, is three months pregnant with our first boy. If you become the great man you promised, don't just build faster engines and taller towers. Build a world where men like me aren't invisible.*
> *Don't let them erase me, Marcus.*
> *Take care of my boy.*
> *— Arthur"*
A single tear hit the page, soaking into the dry soot.
Marcus closed his eyes. For a decade, he had believed success was measured in market capitalization, stock splits, and patent portfolios. He had built a monument to his own intellect, blind to the foundation of human bones it was built upon.
"Mr. Vance?" Toby’s small voice broke the silence. The little boy had finished his sandwich and was staring up at Marcus with Arthur's wide, earnest brown eyes. "Are you going to send us to the orphanage now?"
Marcus knelt on the plush carpet before the little boy, ignoring the creases in his ten-thousand-dollar trousers.
May you like
"No, Toby," Marcus choked out. "Never."
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