Chapter 18
NORA
The company files took longer than I expected, even with everything I already remembered about who would eventually betray my father and who wouldn't. Memory was a strange tool. It gave me shapes without always giving me names, feelings without dates, a sense that something had gone wrong long before I could point to exactly who had caused it.
I sat in my father's old study that afternoon, the door closed, a stack of employee records spread across the desk that I'd asked one of the junior assistants to pull for me under the excuse of a "family history project," something soft and harmless sounding enough that nobody thought to ask more questions. My father still ran the company himself for now, still years away from the version of events where bankruptcy nearly swallowed
