Chapter 7
Grant talked before Lucia did.
Not because he was weaker.
Because he was angrier.
Men like Grant prefer betrayal when they can call it correcting the story.
“She started this after the harbor meeting,” he said.
Lucia stared at him.
“Shut up.”
He laughed.
“No.”
I looked between them.
“What harbor meeting?”
Grant turned toward me.
“The one where you refused to hand South Harbor to me.”
I remembered.
Two weeks before the attack.
Grant wanted direct oversight of a Santoro corridor he had never built and did not understand.
I said no.
He accepted it with a smile.
Apparently the smile had lied.
Lucia snapped, “This is not about the harbor.”
Grant looked at her.
“It became about everything.”
Good.
Keep talking.
He did.
“After you got hit, she said the family finally had time to breathe.”
I felt my expression change.
Lucia saw it.
Grant continued.
“She said if recovery took long enough, the captains would stop waiting for you.”
“When did medication enter the plan?”
Lucia finally spoke.
“There was no plan.”
Grant laughed.
“You changed the schedule.”
“To stop him becoming dependent.”
“You told me the worse he looked, the easier the transition.”
Silence.
Lucia went still.
I looked at her.
“Transition.”
She did not answer.
Grant realized what he had done.
Too late.
I leaned back in the wheelchair.
“To whom?”
Lucia lifted her chin.
“You were attacked because you refused to delegate.”
“That is not an answer.”
She looked at Grant.
Then me.
“To a council.”
“Led by?”
No response.
Grant answered.
“Her.”
Lucia closed her eyes.
There it was.
She did not need my chair forever.
May you like
At first.
She needed temporary command long enough for everyone to become comfortable without me.
