“We lost our home six months ago,” she said. “After my husband died, I couldn’t keep up with rent. My salary isn’t enough… not with Diego’s medication. His lungs got worse because of the mold. That’s why I took the disinfectant. I just needed clean air for him.”
Something twisted in my chest.
“Your husband… how did he die?”
She looked me in the eyes.
“Construction accident. He was a high-rise welder. Fell twenty floors when the scaffolding collapsed. The company said it was his fault. They refused compensation.”
My stomach dropped.
“Where… did this happen?”
Her son answered, his voice sharp with anger.
“At Platinum Tower. He built your building, Mr. Valmont. He worked for your company.”
Silence.
Deafening.
I remembered the case.
I remembered signing the report.
My lawyers had advised blaming the worker to avoid millions in liability.
I didn’t even read his name.
Just another “expense avoided.”
That “expense” was their father.
And my decision was killing his son.
My knees hit the floor before I even realized what I was doing.
“Elena…” My voice broke. “You knew who I was. Why… why work for me?”
She looked at me calmly.