Page 57 of Obeying

I don't move.

"You're not the only one with connections, Cruz."

Annoyance flashes across his face before he can stop it. He's used to being the one with the most powerful name in the room. He forgot who he's talking to.

"You know what I find interesting?" I say.

"Enlighten me."

I adjust my glasses. "The more you talk, the more you show me the truth. You probably don't realize how much you've given away in the last ten minutes, but I do." I let that sit. "And I think the board will find it very interesting too."

His smile is gone. Fully gone. He's staring at me, trying to figure out what I mean, what I caught, what he said that he shouldn't have. I can see him replaying the conversation in his head, scanning for the mistake. And the fact that he can't find it scares him.

Good.

He tries to smile, but what I see underneath is fury.

The calculation vanishes, and the performative smile is back. "I'm afraid I have no idea what you're talking about, Dr. Maxwell."

I shrug. "Don't worry. I didn't expect you to. Everyone has their limits."

His smile drops again.

I walk past him and through the door, then stop. I turn back and look him in the eyes.

"You think you're winning, Cruz." I keep my voice even. Almost friendly. "That's fine. I'll let you think that for now." I hold his gaze. "But you have no idea who you just picked a fight with."

I walk away and I don't look back. I walk through the lobby and out to my car, and I sit in the driver's seat for a full minute before I start the engine.

My hands are steady now. My jaw is loose. The anger is still there, but it's changed shape. Cold. Focused. Useful.

Miguel Cruz is smart and connected. He has money, lawyers, and a father with board seats. But he has a weakness he doesn't know about. He can't handle being seen. His entire life is built on a performance: the generous boyfriend, the charitable CEO, the reasonable man who just wants his girlfriend back. Take the performance away, show him you see what's underneath, and he panics. He snaps. He makes mistakes. I watched him make them in a ten-minute conversation.

He overestimates himself. He believes he'll win because he's never lost before.

But I've never lost either. And I'm not losing this. No matter the cost.

I'm sitting at my kitchen table after dinner and going through emails when my phone rings.

Dad. I take a deep breath and pick up.

"Logan. How are you? Are you home?"

"Yeah, just got in. How's Munich?"

"It's been raining a lot, but fine." He goes quiet. When he speaks again, his voice is sharper, more direct. "Listen, I heard they're finalizing the date for the hearing."

I lean back in my chair. "Where are you hearing this?"

"It doesn't matter where. Is it true?"

"I'm not sure. I haven't heard anything yet."

"But you're still going through with it?"

"Yes, Dad. I'm still going through with it."

"I've been thinking about this, and I want to be honest with you." He pauses. My father pauses when he's about to say something he's been rehearsing. "I don't think you understand what's at stake. This hearing goes on record. Win or lose, your name is attached to it. My name. Your mother's name. Your grandfather's name. The Maxwell name, Logan, associated with a misconduct investigation."