Dad sank into a chair.
Madison began to cry, but no tears reached her cheeks.
“I never wanted anyone hurt,” she said.
Nora looked at her.
“You fired me for asking where the money went.”
“I was protecting the company.”
“You bought a Mercedes with payroll money.”
Madison looked at me.
“You had no idea what it was like to be invisible.”
The words were so unexpected that no one spoke.
Madison’s face twisted.
“Your grandfather adored you. Your father listened to you. Even when you were broke, everyone treated you like the responsible one. I had to fight for every scrap of attention.”
“You could have asked for help.”
“I did.”
“You asked for admiration.”
“I asked to matter.”
“You decided I had to disappear for you to matter.”
Her mouth trembled.
“I thought if I helped Ethan take over, I would finally have something of my own.”
“You had a choice.”
“So did you,” she said. “You chose to be weak.”
The room seemed to contract.
I felt the old instinct rise in me—the urge to explain, soften, apologize for making everyone uncomfortable.
Then I remembered Grandpa’s voice.
Do not save the company merely because it carries our name.
I turned to the receiver.
“Secure the computers. Notify the police and the state financial crimes unit. No one leaves with company records.”
Dad stood suddenly.
“You can’t do this to me.”
“I’m not doing it to you.”
