Page 112 of Wreckage and Rain

Documents are queued. We file at nine-fifteen ET. SEC referral simultaneous. DA on standby for the criminal piece. I need your confirmation by seven. Once we move, we don't pull it back. Be sure.

I've been sure for a long time. I was sure the moment Dom set the manila folder on the kitchen counter and used the words personally compelling. I was sure the night I sat on my mother's wrought-iron bench by the fountain and listened to her call my wife common. I was sure when I rented an apartment in Logan Square and sat in it watching Summer build a life that didn't require me. Signing the document is the only part that's going to feel like anything. The certainty has been here all along.

I type back.

Confirmed.Move at nine-fifteen. Send the cleanup checklist by ten. Don't loop me in on Sonny's response. I will handle that on my own clock.

I close my laptop, take a sip of my coffee and watch the camellias.

***

Bennet Ventures separated last week.

We signed the final document in a conference room in Chicago. Dom witnessed it. The notary was a woman named Renee who didn't know what she was witnessing. I signed my name, slid the folder back across the table, and Dom said, Congratulations,partner. We walked out and got tacos. We didn't toast. There was nothing to celebrate.

My father built one company. I built another. Last week I made mine legally separate from his, so that when his burns, mine stands.

Twenty people in a Loop office with a standing order at the Thai place on the first floor. A board that is two of us, plus Renee the notary's husband, who is a retired SEC compliance officer and the kind of man who reads bylaws for fun.

It's mine. It's clean. It's small. It's enough.

***

Nine-fifteen.

Dade's confirmation comes in minutes later.

Filed. SEC notified. The motion to compel is in. The DA has the criminal package. By eleven, we will have a knock at his office. By noon, this is the lead story on Charleston business news. By two, Bloomberg picks it up.

I read the email twice.

Then I close the laptop. Go to the bathroom. Splash water on my face. Look in the mirror.

The man in the mirror is still ten pounds lighter. He still has a beard but it is more manicured and his dark circles have started to fade.

I look at him.

I say, out loud, "It's done."

I just feel tired.

I pick up my phone. Text Dom.

Me

Filed.

He responds right away.

Dom

Stay off the news. Don't answer your mother.

Me

Wasn't planning to.

Dom