His lawyers will claim he delegated everything to Dunmore, or to subordinates, or to Gerald Maddox.”
“Then we need his own words,” Leo said.
Price studied him.
“Exactly.”
“There’s an event this Friday,” Carter added.
“The Southeastern Safe Schools Summit.
A formal banquet at the Grand Meridian Hotel.
Sloane is the keynote speaker.”
Leo felt something cold and bright settle inside his chest.
“He’s going to stand on a stage and talk about protecting children.”
“Yes.”
“While he controls the cameras that delete their complaints.”
“Yes.”
Anna, who had been sitting quietly in the corner, spoke.
“He’ll want to see Leo.”
Everyone turned.
“Victor doesn’t forget unfinished business,” she said.
“He knows Leo refused him.
He’ll want to try again.
Face to face, where no one can hear.”
Price shook his head.
“Absolutely not.
I won’t put a seventeen-year-old in a room with that man.”
“He won’t be alone,” Leo said.
“Samuel, if I don’t go, Sloane keeps hiding behind lawyers.
If I do, he’ll talk.
He thinks he’s smarter than everyone.
That’s his weakness.”
“It’s also what makes him dangerous.”
“I know.”
Leo touched the frame of his glasses.
“My father built these to preserve the truth.
Let me finish what he started.”
The room was silent.
Anna looked at her son.
Then she reached up and touched the small silver pendant hanging from her necklace, a plain teardrop Daniel had given her years ago, one she had never taken off, not even at the funeral.
“If he goes,” she said, “I go too.”
“Mom—”
“I’ll attend as Dr. Carter’s guest.
I’ll be in the ballroom.
Close enough to see you.”
“It’s too dangerous.”
“Leo.” Her voice was gentle, but there was iron beneath it.
“Your father died alone on a dark road.
I won’t let you walk into a dark room alone.”
He looked at her for a long moment.
Then he nodded.
On Friday night, the Grand Meridian Hotel glowed like a jewel against the Atlanta skyline.
Crystal chandeliers hung above polished marble.
Waiters in white jackets carried silver trays of champagne.
Leo wore a borrowed suit that fit slightly too loosely across the shoulders.
His old wire-framed glasses sat on his nose, as they always had.
Price and two plainclothes agents waited in a service corridor.
Carter sat at a table near the front, pretending to read a program.
Anna stood beside her in a navy dress, hands folded, face composed.
And somewhere in the crowd, Leo knew, Sloane was watching.
He didn’t have to wait long.
A voice spoke behind him.
“Hello, Leo.”
He turned.
Victor Sloane stood in a black tuxedo, a glass of sparkling water in one hand.
The silver watch gleamed on his wrist.
Behind him, a broad-shouldered man with a shaved head and a small scar above one eyebrow stood motionless, his hands clasped in front of him.
Dunmore.
Sloane smiled the way a man smiles when he has been proven right.
“I’m so pleased you came.
I’ve been waiting two years to see those frames again.”
Chapter 5: What the Frames Were Built to See
The private lounge on the mezzanine level smelled of cedar and old money.
Heavy velvet curtains hid the windows.
A fireplace burned behind a glass screen, casting restless orange light across leather chairs and a low walnut table.
Sloane closed the door.
Dunmore took up position beside it, silent as furniture.
“Sit,” Sloane said pleasantly.
Leo remained standing.
“You may as well be comfortable.
This could take some time.”
“I’d rather stand.”
“As you wish.”
Sloane crossed to a small cabinet and set his glass down.
He moved with the unhurried ease of a man in his own territory.
“I must say, I’m impressed.
You’ve made quite a mess for me.”
“I wasn’t trying to make a mess.
I was trying to eat lunch.”
Sloane chuckled.
“Yes.
I watched the recording.
Quite the throw.
I’d have liked to see Troy Maddox’s face.”
“You came to see my glasses.”
“Among other things.”
Sloane approached slowly.
“May I?”
“No.”
“Leo.” His tone remained courteous.
“I’m trying to be reasonable.
I could have done this another way.”
“Like you did with my father?”
The lounge fell silent.
The fire crackled behind its screen.
Sloane’s expression did not change, but something in the air shifted, a subtle pressure, like the moment before a storm.
“That,” he said, “is a very serious accusation.”
“It’s a question.”
“Is it?”
“Yes.”
Leo made his voice calm, the way his father had taught him.
“Dad wouldn’t sign the patent.
He said he’d expose you publicly.
Four days later, his brakes failed on a wet highway.”
Dunmore’s eyes flicked toward Sloane.
Only for an instant.
But Leo noticed.
Sloane let out a quiet breath and shook his head.
“You have your father’s mind.
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