“So you followed me out of guilt?” she whispered. “Because you suddenly felt bad?”
Andrew couldn’t defend himself.
“I don’t know,” he admitted. “But I’m not here to buy your silence. I’m here to take responsibility.”
“My son is not a number,” she cried. “He’s my life. And you turned him into a closed file.”
She was right.
“I can’t undo it,” Andrew said quietly. “But I can reopen it. Tell the truth. Face my board. My investors. Anyone. And cover everything—without conditions.”
Maria collapsed into tears.
“I don’t want charity,” she said. “I wanted someone to see my son.”
Andrew looked at her and understood the worst truth:
She had been fighting a machine alone.
And he was part of that machine.
“I won’t leave you alone,” he said. “Even if it costs me everything.”
And it almost did.
When Andrew announced he would publicly reopen the case, take responsibility, and overhaul company operations, the board exploded.
“You’ll destroy us.”
“If telling the truth ruins us,” Andrew said, “then so be it.”
The media erupted. Lawsuits followed.
And every night, Andrew sat beside Maria in that hospital hallway.
No suit. No assistants.
Just presence.
One night, alarms sounded.