Page 192 of Say My Name

“Yes.”

“Dominic, that was a major deal. My team put hundreds of hours into it. The numbers were solid. You can’t just kill it.”

“I know. I read every page.”

I set my keys on the table, the metallic sound sharp in the quiet room. Her coffee is cold. I pull out a chair, deliberately leaving the table’s width between us as a buffer. She watches me, arms crossed, and doesn’t move until I’m seated. Then she takes the chair opposite mine, her posture rigid.

“The numbers weren’t the problem,” I say into the space between us. “Weller’s nondisclosure and Daniel’s planned transition were.”

“My disclosure was privileged.”

“It still is. Counsel gave me the conflict determination without anything you told them in confidence.”

“Daniel didn’t threaten me on Thursday.”

“I know.”

“Then you should have called me first.”

“You’re right.”

Something in her posture eases, a flicker of surprise on her face that I’m not defending myself.

“I had the authority to make the corporate decision,” I continue, keeping my voice even. “But it still affected you. I should’ve acknowledged that before you had to demand it.”

Her arms tighten across her chest. “You could’ve called before you withdrew.”

“Legal and acquisitions reviewed reassignment, a conditional pause, and withdrawal. Reassigning you didn’t cure Weller’s nondisclosure or guarantee Daniel would have no access to your teams. A pause required governance terms Weller was unlikely to accept. The board needed an answer today.”

“I should have been part of that decision.”

“You were an executive on protected leave after disclosing a conflict involving the man who abused his professional power over you. I wasn’t going to ask you to adjudicate his acquisition for us.”

“I told you I can handle him.”

“I know. This wasn’t a judgment about your competence.”

She looks down at her hands. “So you didn’t withdraw solely because of me.”

“No. What he did to you made me look harder. The review gave me reasons that survive your reassignment or resignation.”

Her hand moves toward her stomach in a gesture so instinctual she has to physically catch it and pull it back. The motion is small, but it lands like a physical blow.

The motion lands, and my mind races backward. The exact date we were last together. The way she held a hand over her mouth at the Northstar meeting. The abrupt request for two weeks of personal leave. Each fact is a lock tumbler falling, until the last one clicks into place with cold, terrifying certainty.

“Did you withdraw the offer because you think I’m pregnant?”

“I didn’t.”

She goes still.

“I made the Weller decision before I called Maya and before I let myself follow the dates,” I say. “I suspected afterward. I still didn’t know.”

“But you thought it.”

“Yes.”

“How could you possibly know?”