The silence in James's office lingered long after his father left. He remained standing, staring at the newspaper headline as if it were etched into his skin.
Son Found Clinging to Corpse.
He whispered the words like a confession. His hands trembled.
Across the room, Susanna tried to compose herself. "You're letting them twist this. You didn't kill her, James. She was already sick."
"She was getting better," he said hollowly. "She just needed rest. Attention. A doctor."
"She had a failing heart, James. We both know that." Her voice was softer now, coaxing. "You couldn't have saved her."
"I could have. I just didn't want to."
The admission dropped like a stone in water. Susanna's smile faltered.
James walked over to the window, watching the city skyline blur behind glass. "I ignored her. I let her suffer. And when George begged me—when he was on his knees—I threw him out. My son."
Susanna crossed her arms tightly. "You were under pressure. You had to protect me."
He turned sharply. "From what, Susanna? From a woman dying quietly down the hall?"
"From the media, from your reputation—" she began, but he interrupted her.
"No. You wanted her gone. You pushed me."
She stepped back, stunned. "Don't you dare pin this on me. You made your choices."
James's voice lowered. "Because you told me she was dangerous. That accident you staged... I believed you. I thought she lost control. You let me think that."
Susanna's eyes blazed. "I didn't make you do anything."
"No," he said. "You didn't have to. You just knew exactly how to twist the knife."
He looked at her now like a man seeing clearly for the first time—and not liking what stood before him.
A knock interrupted them. One of the board members entered quietly. "Mr. Green, the press is outside. They want a statement."
James nodded stiffly, but didn't move.
As the door closed again, Susanna approached him cautiously. "We need to face this together."
James looked away. "We? There is no 'we' anymore."