Elias sat in the same chair, took her hand again, and this time, he spoke out loud even though he knew she couldn’t hear him.
«Maya, it’s Daddy. I came late, I know. Too late, as always. You were right when you said I’m always late. I was late to the wedding. I’ve been late to your whole adult life. But I’m here now. And I promise you one thing: He will never touch you again.»
He squeezed her hand gently.
«Not him. Not his father. Not his whole family. They think they can buy everything in the world. That money solves every problem. But there are things you can’t buy. There are people who don’t give a damn about their money. And there is a truth that eventually comes to light.»
He fell silent, still holding her hand. Outside, it was getting dark. Atlanta was turning on its lights, indifferent to the small human tragedies unfolding behind each of its millions of windows.
Somewhere in this city, Julian Sterling was celebrating at another party, drinking champagne, hugging models, and not suspecting that his life had already begun to crumble. The first stones had already broken loose from the mountain and were rolling downhill, bringing an avalanche with them.
Elias’s phone vibrated. He looked at the screen. An unknown number. Then another call. And another. He didn’t answer. He just watched the screen light up over and over, allowing himself a small, grim smile. It had begun.
Vera poked her head into the room and signaled that it was time to leave. Elias leaned over his daughter and carefully kissed her forehead, being careful not to touch the wires and tubes.
«Hold on, Maya. Daddy’s here. Daddy’s going to fix everything.»
In the hallway, he took out his phone and looked at the missed calls. Seven in the last ten minutes, all from different Atlanta area codes. He picked one at random and called back.
They answered almost immediately, and the voice on the other end was clearly agitated.
«This is Elias Vane, father of Maya Sterling. Yes, I’m the one calling.»
«My name is Andre. I’m an investigative journalist. We received materials about the Sterling family. Very serious materials. They indicate you are the contact person. We want to ask you some questions.»
«Ask.»
«Is it true that Julian Sterling systematically beat your daughter? That she was repeatedly hospitalized? That his family covered up the incidents every time?»
«It is true. Every last word of it.»
«Are you willing to give an official interview?»
«No, but I’ll give you something better. On my daughter’s phone, there is a video where her husband forces her to say to the camera that she fell down on her own. If you want, I can send it to you.»
A pause on the other end of the line.
«That would be… that would be very important for the story, for the investigation.»
«Then write down the email address.»
In five minutes, the video was sent to the indicated address. Then to another, and a third. Elias returned calls to all the numbers that had contacted him. And it turned out they were journalists, bloggers, and editors of investigative media.
They had all received the same packet of documents about the Sterling family’s financial maneuvers. They all wanted confirmation of details, comments. And Elias gave them all the same thing: The video from his daughter’s phone and his dry, factual testimony.
He didn’t dramatize. He didn’t sob into the phone. He didn’t curse his son-in-law with the worst words. He simply laid out the facts like a man who for 15 years had been a crew chief on the northern rigs and was used to clear language. Date of the first hospitalization. Nature of the injuries. Words of the nurses. Reaction of the husband.
It all fit into a complete picture that was chilling.
When the calls finally stopped, Elias went down to the lobby and stepped outside. The cold city air burned his lungs, and he coughed long and heavily. The cancer was making itself known, not letting him forget that time was limited.
But now, that was almost a good thing. Each coughing fit was a reminder that he had nothing to lose. And a man with nothing to lose is capable of things inaccessible to those who cling to life, career, and reputation.