A real smile. Small. Sad. Genuine. Loud.
Laura blinked. Loud? Jake laughed softly. She talked to strangers in grocery stores. That's terrifying.
Exactly. Another small laugh escaped him. She made friends everywhere. The smile lingered. She couldn't walk past a sad person without trying to help them.
Laura looked down at the dishes she had washed. Jake noticed. Actually, he tilted his head slightly. You probably would have liked each other. That surprised her.
Why? Jake considered it. Because you're both a little crazy. Laura laughed despite herself. The sound felt strange after such a heavy evening.
For a brief moment, the tension in the room eased. Then Jake's eyes drifted toward the folder again. Reality returned immediately. I still don't understand why you're here. Laura became serious once more.
I told you. No. Jake shook his head. You told me what happened. He met her eyes.
You didn't tell me why you're sitting in my kitchen instead of having HR handle this tomorrow. Laura looked away. The answer existed. She simply wasn't sure she wanted to say it aloud. Jake waited.
Finally, she spoke. Because I felt responsible. Lots of executives feel responsible. Not like this. Her voice was barely above a whisper now.
I read your file. Jake frowned. And Laura looked directly at him. And I saw a man being slowly crushed while everyone above him benefited from it. Jake remained silent.
I saw a company I built rewarding the wrong people. Her eyes drifted toward the hallway where Sophie slept. I saw a little girl paying the price for decisions she never made. The room became very still. Laura swallowed hard.
And I realized I was part of it. Jake stared at her. For the first time all night she looked vulnerable. Not like a CEO, not like an executive, just a person confronting a mistake too large to ignore. You didn't know.
Laura shook her head. That's not a defense. Maybe not. It's not. Her answer came immediately.
Leadership doesn't stop being responsible because it wasn't paying attention. Jake considered that. Most people with power spent their lives avoiding accountability. Laura appeared to be running toward it. "Do you always do this?"
He asked. "Do what?" "Take responsibility for things that aren't directly your fault." A strange expression crossed her face. "Not always."