Chapter 9 - DANIEL'S VERSION OF ANDREW
Daniel asked to speak to me alone.
I nearly said no.
Then remembered what happened when everyone let history speak for them.
We sat in Elliot's office.
Door open.
No drama.
Daniel's bruise had turned purple beneath one eye.
I looked at it.
“I'm sorry I hit you.”
He nodded.
“I shouldn't have come.”
“That doesn't make the punch okay.”
“No.”
Good.
I continued.
“I thought you were trying to get to Noah.”
“I was.”
I stared.
He corrected.
“To talk to him. Not take him.”
“That still matters.”
“I know.”
Then:
“I wanted the message to be real.”
There.
Why?
Because Daniel had loved Noah.
Before Andrew died, Daniel spent weekends at our house.
Birthday breakfasts.
Baseball games.
Hospital waiting rooms.
Then Andrew made him trust protector.
Everything became formal.
After the audit fight, I cut him off.
Daniel obeyed.
Mostly because he knew challenging me would prove every bad thing I thought.
Then a message arrived from Noah:
Uncle D.
Daniel saw what he wanted.
Not a scam.
Not manipulation.
A nine-year-old reaching back.
“I should have called the school.”
“Yes.”
“I should have called you.”
“Yes.”
“I knew you might stop me.”
“That is why you didn't.”
“Yes.”
Specific.
No noble emergency excuse.
Then I asked:
“Why did Andrew trust you more than Rebecca?”
Daniel shook his head.
“He didn't.”
“What?”
“He trusted us differently.”
Andrew knew Rebecca would save the company even if the trust took pain.
He knew Daniel would protect the trust even if the company took pain.
So he split authority.
That made sense.
Then Andrew died.
And both people became exactly what he feared.
Rebecca borrowed trust money to save payroll.
Daniel froze distributions to prove boundaries.
Neither calibrated.
“What did Andrew think of me?”
Daniel looked uncomfortable.
“Do not protect him.”
“I wasn't.”
“Daniel.”
“He thought you would protect Noah before anything else.”
“That sounds nice.”
“It wasn't always.”
I waited.
“He worried you would burn every business relationship around Noah if you thought one of them made him unsafe.”
I looked at Daniel's bruised face.
“Good call.”
He almost smiled.
Then didn't.
I asked:
“Did Andrew ever tell you about Northstar?”
Daniel nodded.
“Before he died, they approached us informally.”
“What did he say?”
“Too early. Too cheap.”
“Current offer?”
“Better.”
“Still too cheap?”
“In my opinion.”
“And independent valuation?”
“Between ninety-two and ninety-seven million.”
Northstar offered eighty-six.
Rebecca claimed waiting could trigger covenant breach and force a worse sale.
Both could be right.
Then Daniel said:
“There is something else in Bluebird.”
“What?”
“A note Andrew sent me once. I didn't understand it.”
He opened an old encrypted email he had retained lawfully as company cofounder.
One line:
If Harbor ever becomes a reason Claire hates you, tell her I told you not to explain while I was alive. After I'm gone, that's on you.
I stared.
“What did that mean?”
Daniel looked ashamed.
“I thought Andrew wanted me to keep his business decisions private.”
“So you let me believe the audit mess was all Rebecca.”
“Yes.”
“You let me hate you instead?”
“No.”
He looked at me.
“I let you hate Rebecca for the wrong amount and me for the wrong reason because explaining would've meant admitting Andrew designed Harbor.”
There.
He had protected my dead husband's image.
At my expense.
At Rebecca's.
At his own.
Nobody asked him to for four years.
Andrew had specifically said:
May you like
After I'm gone, that's on you.
Daniel had ignored that part.
