Chapter 4
Charles said, his tone cold, "This is a place to resolve conflicts, not somewhere for you to vent your personal grudges.
"Have the police department withdraw the list right now, and get to the office to apologize to everyone. You'll cover the loss of performance yourself."
I replied calmly, "The team agreed to follow the assignment when they signed the contract. If they're backing out now, it shows they're not cut out for this job."
On the other end, I could hear his heavy, strained breathing, followed by a few angry curses.
He snapped, "You're impossible. Fine, if you want us both to go down, don't blame me for being ruthless.
"Ivanna, remember you're the one who broke off all ties first."
The line went dead with a sharp click, but I didn't feel any satisfaction from getting back at him. All I felt was a deep, empty loneliness.
Before this accident, I kept telling myself he wasn't cold toward me or our daughter. It was only his work that made him so closed off emotionally.
But apparently, he could lose his composure for Brielle, could get all worked up just to protect her.
He only saw me and our daughter as burdens he could cast aside whenever it suited him.
I spent ten years holding our family together, only to watch him let our daughter die because of his assistant's mistake.
I couldn't be bothered to respond to any of the accusations.
Charles was convinced I'd blow up, so he got bolder and more shameless with his moves.
He started bringing Brielle to every negotiation workshop and awards ceremony, both of them dressed in matching dark suits. During interviews, they stood unusually close, and whenever one answered a question, they'd instinctively glance at each other.
Even at the international kidnapping case debriefing I used my connections to get him into, he addressed experts from around the world and said, "Brielle is new now.
"But she showed incredible composure during this negotiation. If she hadn't stepped up when she did, we might not have gotten the hostages out safely."
The cameras flashed nonstop, and the next day, the photo of them side by side, analyzing the case, took up a prominent spot in the International Negotiation Journal.
The headline read, "Top Negotiator Charles Prescott and Assistant Brielle Whitlock: Seamless Teamwork Made the Rescue Possible."
He shared the article on a professional forum with the caption: [Teamwork makes the dream work.]
He acted like he didn't notice the line in the article about them working together as seamlessly as a couple who'd been together for years.
The comments section was flooded with praise, calling them a "power couple" and "the new generation's rising stars." Occasionally, someone would mention that Charles's wife was also in the business, but those comments were quickly drowned out by newer ones.
I calmly took a screenshot of the article, saved it, and sent it to my lawyer.
Maybe my indifference bored them, because a few days later, someone sent me a surveillance video from the corridor.
In the footage, Brielle was carrying the negotiation plan when she tripped on a step. Charles reached out to steady her, and the papers went flying. One of the papers was the negotiation timeline from the day my daughter was taken.
Brielle looked up at Charles with a grin. "Wow, Mr. Prescott, you've got quick reflexes! I really thought I was about to take a spill down the stairs."
Charles bent down to pick up the papers, his fingers brushing over that timeline, but there wasn't even a flicker in his eyes. He only said quietly, "Pay attention when you walk."
The video cut off right there.
The person who sent the video added a message: [Hey, Ivanna, haven't seen you around lately, so I thought I'd share some everyday team moments to cheer you up.]
I replied with a simple [Thanks.]
Anyway, they'd be heading out to the conflict zone for negotiation duty soon. All these little antics were just a bunch of clowns putting on a show.
*****
On the day of my daughter's funeral, I set her favorite pink bunny right by her side.
It was a birthday gift from Charles, which she always clutched in her hand.
In the photo, her hair was done up in pigtails, and she was holding the bunny, her smile shining with pure happiness.
She used to repeat to me, "Mom, when I grow up, I want to be a negotiator, just like Dad."
Every time she said that, Charles would give a quiet "yeah," then turn to Brielle and say, "Negotiation's a rough business. Girls are better off staying away."
But he had no idea that Lola watched his interviews again and again, making her own little negotiation notebooks, scribbling things like "Stay calm" and "Listen to what others say."
Lola took her last breath in that failed negotiation. At least, she could quietly walk toward the world of negotiation she always longed for.
I crouched by her memorial photo, gently stroking the bunny's head. The soft, fuzzy feeling was like touching the top of my daughter's head.