Chapter 2: The Morning After

By the time Veronica Beckett stepped into the building, the city had already moved on. The air was crisper than the day before, carrying the faint scent of dry leaves through the revolving doors, the light falling pale against glass and steel outside.

"Good morning, Ms. Beckett."

She acknowledged it with a slight nod, not breaking stride. The black she wore today wasn't the same as yesterday, it was silk, cleaner in line, with no trace of the damp earth or crushed lilies that had clung to her the evening before. It drew the same attention anyway.

Her assistant, Maya, fell into step beside her just before the elevators. "You have a board review in twenty minutes," Maya said, matching her pace. "Legal is waiting on confirmation about the acquisition delay, and…" she paused, choosing carefully, "Sterling withdrew preliminary support late last night."

Veronica’s step faltered, just enough to be seen, before she reached for the elevator button.

The doors opened with a soft chime.

"After the funeral?" she asked as she stepped in.

"Yes."

"They didn't give a reason," Maya added as the lift moved. Veronica's gaze lifted briefly to the reflective panel in front of her. The same face looked back.

"They won't."

Maya glanced at her. "Do you want me to reach out?"

"No. I'll handle it."

The elevator slowed, then opened onto the executive floor, where movement was quieter, more deliberate. Veronica stepped out. "Push the board meeting back ten minutes," she said as they walked. "Send me everything legal has on the withdrawal before I go in."

"Yes, ma'am." Maya didn't write it down. She didn't need to.

Veronica didn’t look back. Her office sat at the end of the corridor, glass framing the city below, muted sunlight, slow traffic, trees just beginning to thin, a few branches already gone bare. The door closed behind her, and the quiet settled in.

Veronica set her gloves on the desk, a different pair in the same color, then walked to the window without sitting, watching the city move as if nothing had shifted.

A knock sounded behind her.

"Come in."

Her father stepped in. "You came straight here," he said.

Veronica didn't turn immediately. "Yes."

"You could have taken the day."

She glanced at him over her shoulder. "And done what?"

"Grieve."

That made her turn fully. “Would that change anything?”

His gaze lingered on her as if searching for something that wasn’t there before he answered.

"The board is unsettled," he said instead.

"They'll manage."

"They're reacting to Sterling."

Veronica crossed back to her desk and pulled out her chair. "They haven't pulled out."

"They stepped away."

"That's not the same thing."

He moved closer, stopping just short of the desk. "It will be, if you don't move fast enough."

Veronica looked up at him. "When have I been slow?" He held her gaze and didn't answer.

She took her seat and said, "They pulled back after the funeral, that wasn't timing."

"What was it, then?"

"Deliberate."

He exhaled quietly. "Or emotional."

"Then they've already made a mistake."

He studied her for a moment, then shook his head slightly. "You're treating this like a negotiation."

"It is a negotiation."

"It's personal, Veronica."

"Only if I let it be."

Her father's expression tightened. "If Sterling walks, you don't just lose funding. You lose credibility. The board won't stand behind you after that." A file sat open on the desk, the Sterling name printed clearly across the header. Veronica's fingers tapped once against it, then stilled.

"They won't need to. It won't get that far."

"You don't know that."

"I won't let it."

He looked at her longer this time, as if trying to decide whether that certainty came from experience or determination. A softer knock interrupted them.

"Come in," Veronica said.

The door opened just enough for her stepsister, Jane, to step inside. She hesitated when she saw them both. "I didn't mean to interrupt—"

"You didn't," Veronica said, her tone easing slightly.

Jane closed the door behind her but stayed near it, hands loosely clasped. "You left quickly. I just wanted to check on you."

"I had somewhere to be."

Jane nodded, though the concern didn't leave her face. "You haven't eaten."

"I'm fine."

"You should still—"

"Jane." Her name softened the interruption. Jane stopped. Veronica held her gaze a moment longer, then said, more quietly, "Thank you." It wasn't a dismissal. But it was enough.

Jane exhaled softly and gave a small nod. "Okay."

After a brief pause, she said, almost without thinking, "You shouldn't deal with them alone. Not right now."

Veronica didn't react. Jane seemed to catch herself. "I just meant, after everything—"

"I understand what you meant," Veronica said.

Jane nodded again, her gaze flicking briefly toward the Sterling name on the file before she stepped back out, closing the door gently behind her.

Her father's attention returned to Veronica. "You could have let her stay," he said.

"For what?"

"For you."

Veronica leaned back slightly in her chair. "She wouldn't know what to do with me."

"That's not the point."

"It is for her."

He watched her, something unreadable passing across his face before it settled. "You make this look easy."

"It isn't."

"Then stop acting like it is."

"I'm not acting. I'm choosing what to focus on."

After a moment he straightened, as if deciding not to push further. "I'll speak to the board," he said.

"You'll do what you think is necessary."

"And you?"

Veronica's gaze shifted to the city beyond the glass. "I already am." He gave a short nod and turned toward the door.

His hand had just reached the handle when Veronica spoke. "You know it wasn't that kind of marriage."

He stood still. Didn't turn.

Veronica's eyes fixed somewhere past him. "It was agreed from the start." A brief pause. "He wanted more." Another pause. "I didn't."

Silence settled between them. John Beckett turned slightly, just enough to look at his daughter. He didn't respond. Then he opened the door and stepped out, closing it quietly behind him.

Veronica remained seated a moment longer. Her hand rose without thought, brushing lightly against her chest before dropping again.

Her phone lit up with an unknown number. She glanced at it, then opened the message.

We need to discuss terms.

No name. None needed. Veronica read it once, then again, her grip tightening around the phone before she set it down.

Of course he would make the first move. She should have known.