2026-02-07 19:03:39Robert woke at six AM sharp. He didn't need an alarm. It was more the function of anticipation than the clock.
He got under the hot spray of the shower. Today was important. Now Loretta would see how it was to be the recipient side.
He wore a charcoal suit, Italian shoes that were gleaming with a mirror finish. The mirror in which he saw his own image reflected was not like the pizza delivery boy two days ago.
Robert checked his phone. No messages from Loretta. Good. That meant she was coming.
He had breakfast brought up to his room. Eggs benedict, fresh orange juice, and coffee. His five years of leftover pizza made him value actual food.
The eggs were perfect. Hollandaise sauce full and fat. Slowly Robert ate his meal, and did it to the last morsel. No rushing. No Sandra screaming at him to hurry up.
At seven-thirty Robert took the Bugatti to Zenco. His engine was purring smoothly and powerfully. People stared as he passed. Some pointed. Others took pictures.
He left his car in the position of the president. His spot now. The one with his name on it.
It was seven forty-five and Robert entered the lobby. The receptionist arose to his feet.
"Good morning, Mr. Jackson." With all sincerity she said.
"Good morning." Robert replied. "Has Miss Lynn arrived?"
"Not yet, sir. Should I send her away when she does?
"No. Make her wait in the lobby. I will come down at eight."
The receptionist nodded and made a note. "Of course, sir."
Robert went up the elevator to the seventeen floor. His office was at the end of the hall. Last night Uncle Phillip had sent him the access code.
He punched in the numbers. The door clicked open.
Robert entered and halted. The office was massive. There were floor to ceiling windows that had a view of the city. Mahogany desk, leather seats, original paintings in the walls.
His father's office. Now his.
Robert was on the chair of the president. It fit perfectly. Like it was made for him. Because it was.
He checked his watch. Seven fifty-five.
His phone buzzed. The receptionist.
"Miss Lynn has arrived, sir."
"Tell her I'll be down shortly." Robert said.
He waited. Let her sweat. He got down from the elevator at five past eight.
Loretta was sitting on one of the couches made of leather, and her leg was trembling. Her hair was pulled back and she wore a professional dress. No designer heels today. Sensible flats.
She noticed him and sprang to her feet.
“I am very sorry I am half an hour late, Robert. Traffic was terrible and…"
"You're late." Robert said flatly. "I said eight AM sharp."
Loretta's face went pale. “Only five minutes, please, it was only five minutes. The traffic"
"Follow me." Robert turned and went to the elevator.
Loretta scrambled behind him with clicking heels. They rode up in silence. She continued to open her mouth to speak, and close it.
The elevator dinged. Seventeenth floor.
She was taken to a conference room by Robert. Not his office. She didn't deserve that honor.
"Sit." He pointed to a chair.
Loretta sat, her hands tightly clasped together. Her knuckles were white.
Robert remained standing. He paced the table in a slow and deliberate way. Making her wait. Making her nervous.
"So, Miss Lynn. Why do you want this position?” He finally said.
Loretta cleared her throat. “I have eight years of experience as a model. I also possess a good experience in brand representation. I have worked with big fashion houses in my portfolio.”
"That's not what I asked." Robert interrupted. “I asked why you are after this job.”
Loretta blinked. “Zenco is a big company and being the face of your brand would boost my career to a higher level.”
"So you're using us." Robert said.
"No! I say it is a win-win situation. You get a popular face, I get exposure"
"We have other options." Robert cut her off again. "Sarah Chen, for example. Better portfolio. More international appeal."
Loretta's jaw clenched. “Sarah Chen is good, but I’ve got something she doesn’t have.”
"What's that?" With crossed arms Robert asked.
"Authenticity. Relatability. I relate with individuals at a personal level.”
Robert laughed. A cold, harsh sound. "Relatability? You? The lady who put someone down at a reunion due to his occupation?”
Loretta's face flushed red. "Robert, please. I apologized for that. I was wrong."
“You are apologising because I have to give you something.” Robert said. "Not because you meant it."
"That's not true!" Loretta rose with a voice that increased. “I sincerely apologize to the way I had treated you.”
"Sit down." Robert's voice was ice.
Loretta sat immediately. Her hands trembled.
Robert went to the window and looked out on the city. Buildings were reflected in the morning sun. Cars moved like ants below.
“You know what I remember most about that night?” Robert asked.
Loretta said nothing.
"The way everyone laughed." Robert continued. "The way you pinched your nose. Like I was garbage. Like I didn't matter."
"I'm sorry." Loretta whispered.
"You're sorry you got caught." Robert turned to face her. “you are sorry the pizza boy became your boss. That's what you're sorry for."
Loretta had tears in her eyes. Real ones this time. “What do you want from me, Robert? I've apologized. I came early. I'm trying."
"Five minutes late isn't early." Robert said.
"Please." Loretta got up, and walked towards him. "I need this job. You don't understand. My professional life is on the crossroads. Unless I get a big one within the near future, I will be out of business. Finished."
"That's not my problem." Robert said coldly.
Loretta caught hold of his arm. "Robert, please. I'm begging you. I'll do anything. Anything you want."
Robert glanced at her on his sleeve. She dropped it at once, and withdrew.
"I'll tell you what I want." Robert said slowly. “I want you to know what it is like to become nothing. To be disrespected like you are of no use.”
"I understand." Loretta said quickly. "I really do."
"No, you don't." Robert passed by her towards the door. "But you will."
He opened it. "This interview is over."
Loretta's face crumbled. "Does that mean I didn't get it?"
"It means I'll let you know." Robert said. "Don't call us. We'll call you."
Loretta headed to the door, her head lowered. She paused, turning back. “I really am sorry. Not because you're my boss. Because I was cruel. And you didn't deserve it."
Robert said nothing. Just held the door open.
Loretta went, and her footsteps reverberated down the hallway. Robert followed her until she went in the elevator.
Robert banged the door and leaned against it. His heart was pounding. That felt good. Really good.
His phone buzzed. Roxanne.
"Are you coming today? We need to talk."
Robert typed back. "I'll be there in an hour."
He sent it, and proceeded to his office. He was sitting at his desk staring at the city below. Time to face his wife.
But first, coffee. Strong, black coffee.
Robert pressed the intercom. "Send someone up with coffee. Black, no sugar."
"Right away, Mr. Jackson." The receptionist replied.
He was interrupted five minutes afterward by the knock of a young man on his door. He introduced a tray of pastries and coffee.
“Will there be anything else, sir? The young man asked.
"No. Thank you." Robert said.
The young man left. Robert took a drink of coffee, and brought his thoughts together.
Roxanne wanted to talk. Fine. He'd talk. But on his terms now.
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CHAPTER THREE HUNDRED AND TEN
Several months later the penthouse had the specific quality of a home that had discovered its true form.Not the version before all that. The version with all the things and that had come through it and was bigger for the coming through. Toy in corners. A board book on the coffee table. There was a second small chair, which had been set down next to the first chair. A carry arrangement at the door next to Clara's coat.Robert was in the living room on the floor.Clara was standing there next to him, constructing something out of blocks. The particular bold design of a person who had determined that these blocks would be a component of something, and who was negotiating with the physical laws whether or not that could be done.Pius was lying on the mat next to her. He was four months old, and he was beginning to have opinions about the world. He observed Clara's building of blocks like a note taker.Robert glanced at both of them.There was no thought of anything around him in his mind
CHAPTER THREE HUNDRED AND NINE
Phillip was arrested on Tuesday morning.He was in his lawyer's office when the FBI agents knocked there. Not dramatically. Two agents. A formal document. The quality of procedure used in an arrest, a carefully-prepared rather than suddenly-arranged arrest.His lawyer was with him all the time.Phillip glanced over the document. He read it. He handed it back.He looked at his lawyer.His lawyer looked at him with the look of one who knew this was going to happen, and had been preparing for it, and he was here when it was supposed to happen.His lawyer said, "All right?"Yes," Phillip said.He stood.He went along with the agents.The charges were specific and comprehensive. Conspiracy. Financial crimes linked to the initial Zenco case which had been completely uncovered during the disclosure. Obstruction related to the Leonard communication and what that communication had stimulated. The two fatalities overseas that Carver had described in his own cooperation agreement, and that the f
CHAPTER THREE HUNDRED AND EIGHT
Patricia's piece was aired on a Friday morning.Not in any outlet. Patricia had set up simultaneous publishing on three big platforms. Such a coordinated release that was able to communicate the story and wasn't looking for attention but managing it. Responding to a story which had already been built around them by giving them the complete real story before any more construction was added.Robert read it at his desk at six AM.He read it, just as he read her other piece. Thoroughly and at a relaxed pace. He read what she had written about the fake document and where it came from, and what the federal investigation had found regarding the origin of the fake document. He read her letter on Roxanne's history, and the medical history and his particular sequence which made her implication in the fabrication impossible. He read what she had written about the DNA result and the documentation and the chain of custody that made the result unchallengeable.He read the portion of Maxime.It was
CHAPTER THREE HUNDRED AND SEVEN
DNA results came back on Thursday morning.Robert was in the kitchen island when the secure message was received from the laboratory. A document attached. He briefly read the notification. Then he opened it.He read it.He placed the phone face down on the island.He sat still.He looked at the counter in front of him. On the coffee machine. The fruit bowl. The things of everyday life, the things they saw every morning, ordinary, and the things they did every day.So, it is what he had known. Pius Robert Jackson. It was clear, specific and unambiguous and backed by federal laboratory certification.His son. Without a doubt and without question.He took up the phone.He read it again.He put it down.He placed both hands on the island.He looked at them.There was something that he didn't expect to happen.He was not surprised with the outcome. He knew what the answer was going to be. He had assured Patricia Osei that the outcome would be what it is. He had been sitting with Roxanne in
CHAPTER THREE HUNDRED AND SIX
Robert's worst board meeting since the Victoria Castellano period was the meeting on Monday.He was at the top of the table and was studying the faces round him and reading all of them, as he had been reading the rooms for years.Angela Voss was a little sad and somewhat irritated. When Robert was called on Sunday, it was Saturday evening and she had told him two things. The Board's support of him. That the board had to get him to stabilize the Zenco's position in the week or the stabilizing would be done without him.Both statements had been made in the same voice. Not as a threat and not as a comfort. Simply as fact.Bloom was gazing at the table. He had been gazing at the table for twelve minutes.Stanton was observing Robert, as if he had been in business for thirty-five years and was making a decision.There were three other board members who remained in the seats they were in all along. The expressions they used had the distinctive careful neutrality of those who await the direc
CHAPTER THREE HUNDRED AND FIVE
Patricia Osei came to the penthouse at two PM.She came alone. No photographer. No recording assistant. The only thing different here was herself and the small recorder she'd set on the kitchen island the same way she had on Robert's desk eighteen months ago, when she'd written the profile that had altered the public perception of him.She looked at Robert and Roxanne across the island.She took a look at them, as she had taken a look at Robert when he was working alone in his office. Not assessing. Reading. The particular attribute of a journalist who knew that the best information in an interview was before the end of the tape.“Well, before we start we need to know a few things," she said. "Off the record."“Go ahead," Robert said.“What you are about to do,” she said. “You’re going to be recorded today. About the test.” She gave both of them a glance. “I want to know you understand that, you don't owe this to anyone.”Roxanne looked at her.“The thing is, we know,” Roxanne said. “
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