Page 39 of A Mistake of Worth
Inside, the lobby hummed with quiet efficiency. The security desk issued him a temporary badge and directed him to the top-floor boardroom, where EcoSphere’s leadership was already seated around a long polished table. Their polite greetings didn’t faze him. Henri had done this before, more times than he could count. But today felt different. Not because of the stakes. Because of the silence in his pocket where Marc’s voice usually lived.
He took his seat. And then he began.
Henri moved through the presentations with practiced confidence. Outlining La Sauvegarde’s vision for the merger, breaking down integration strategies, fielding questions with calm precision. Growth projections. Departmental consolidation. Logistics chains. Risk assessments. It all flowed, seamless and clean. This was his arena, where intellect mattered more than obedience. Where his voice carried weight because of what he knew, not who he belonged to.
After each meeting, he texted Michael.
Board meeting went well. No one fell asleep.
Michael’s reply had landed instantly.
Proud of you. But I expected at least one power napper.
The messages weren’t grand declarations, but each one made Henri smile. They grounded him. Reminded him there was someone out there who wasn’t keeping score, who just cared.
The technical review with EcoSphere’s VPs proved even better. Henri found himself immersed in discussions about production optimization and sustainable material sourcing. He leaned in,asked questions, took notes. This was what he loved. Watching the pieces of a company come together in better alignment. Seeing potential take shape.
His phone buzzed again.
You’re killing it, CFO.
It made his chest warm. Not just the words, but the belief behind them.
By the time they wrapped for a late lunch, Henri felt the first true sense of exhilaration he’d experienced in months. The CEO, who would become President after the merger, suggested a seafood place just down the block, and Henri agreed without hesitation. The air was warm outside, but not unpleasant. He let himself enjoy the walk, the easy chatter about upcoming integration milestones, the weight of the morning’s success settling around his shoulders.
At the restaurant, they were ushered to a quiet corner table. The conversation flowed effortlessly. Talk of hiring timelines, regional regulations, future growth projections. Henri even laughed once, surprising himself.
Henri was just raising a forkful of rare steak to his mouth when his phone buzzed on the table beside him. He smiled, already picturing another of Michael’s encouraging notes, some quip about charm stats or wooing investors.
But the smile vanished as soon as he saw the name.
It wasn’t Michael.
You aren’t wearing it.
Henri’s fork clattered against his plate.
The sound drew a few glances from the EcoSphere executives around the table, but Henri barely registered them. He forced a tight smile, tucked the phone face-down beside his water glass, and reached for the glass again, but his fingers were trembling. Trembling in a way they hadn’t in years.
His throat tightened. Phantom pain flickered through the socket, deep and cold.
He took a bite of steak he could no longer taste, chewing mechanically. Someone was saying something about production scalability. Henri nodded, smiled. Pretended.
Buzz.
Did you think I wouldn’t know?
His phone vibrated on the table. Henri kept his gaze trained on the napkin in his lap. He didn’t need to look. He knew the rhythm. This was the second stage. Accusation and disbelief. It would escalate quickly now.
Buzz.
Answer me.
The itch to obey nearly overpowered him. His fingers hovered at the edge of the table, torn between impulse and memory. Just a quick reply. Just enough to soothe the worst of it. But then Michael’s voice surfaced in his head:
That’s not love.
Henri dragged in a breath that shook in his chest.
