Chapter 2 - THE MAN WHO THOUGHT HE WAS SAFE
If Derek had yelled, the room might have felt less dangerous.
Instead, he went strangely calm.
That was worse.
He folded his hands, leaned against the desk, and looked at Catherine as though this were all a misunderstanding he could still manage.
“With respect,” he said, “you don’t oversee day-to-day discipline at this site.”
“No,” Catherine replied. “I oversee the company that employs the people you discipline.”
The warehouse workers outside shifted, but nobody left. Even the coffee someone had set near the loading dock remained untouched.
Derek tried another angle. “The morning shipment was already short-staffed. Harrison’s decision delayed productivity.”
“It didn’t,” I said before I could stop myself. “The truck for Line B wasn’t even docked yet.”
Derek turned his head toward me, and for a moment I saw the expression he normally kept hidden behind procedures and memos. Not anger.
Calculation.
Like he was measuring whether I had just made something worse for myself.
Catherine noticed it too.
She turned to me. “How late were you?”
“Twenty-seven minutes.”
“And before today?”
“Three times this month. Once because Lily—my daughter—missed her bus. Once because the school called. Once because—”
I stopped.
I hated how apologetic I sounded. As if being a single father had become a series of offenses needing explanation.
Catherine finished the sentence for me.
“Because life happened,” she said.
Derek gave a short laugh. “If we excuse every personal crisis, we no longer have a functioning operation.”
Catherine looked at him for a long moment.
“Do you know what a functioning operation requires?” she asked. “Trustworthy leadership.”
Then she opened the glass office door and called for the acting HR manager, the floor lead from receiving, and site security.
I had never seen Derek look uncertain before. Irritated. Arrogant. Controlling. Yes.
Uncertain? Never.
Yet as Catherine began issuing calm instructions—freeze Derek’s system access, preserve his office computer, place him on immediate administrative suspension pending review—his eyes moved past her, over my shoulder, toward the warehouse floor.
He was not looking for support.
He was looking for escape.
That was when the first small thread of suspicion tugged at me.
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Because if this had truly been only about a late employee and a strict supervisor, Derek would have been angry.
Instead, he looked afraid.
