Chapter 21 - MILO’S QUESTIONA week passed.
Then another.
Milo stopped mentioning Chase every day.
That was progress.
The toy launcher returned to normal rotation with Legos, baseball cards and a collection of plastic dinosaurs Milo insisted were “scientifically organized” even though Aaron could find no recognizable system.
At school, Milo's teacher emailed again.
He seems like himself.
Aaron read the sentence three times.
Claire framed it as a joke.
“You've reviewed billion-dollar acquisitions with less attention.”
“Those have spreadsheets.”
“So does Milo if you let him.”
“Absolutely not.”
Life moved.
Barron Mobility implemented its governance changes.
Chase stayed CEO.
But now every large expense had to be justified.
His first request for a company-funded trip to Monaco was rejected.
He paid personally.
His second request for a luxury vehicle lease was denied altogether.
He drove the repaired black supercar instead.
Oddly, he enjoyed it less.
People still photographed it.
But now he noticed the valets.
The parking attendants.
The assistants carrying bags.
The workers cleaning tables after events.
He had always seen them.
He simply hadn't considered them.
Lillian, his coach, challenged him weekly.
“What's changing?”
“My board is controlling everything.”
“That's external.”
“What do you want?”
“Internal.”
Chase sighed.
“I haven't yelled at anyone this week.”
“That's absence of behavior.”
“Isn't that good?”
“Yes. What's present instead?”
Chase thought.
“I asked Martin why he disagreed.”
“And?”
“He told me.”
“What happened?”
“I didn't fire him.”
Lillian smiled.
“Revolutionary.”
Chase rolled his eyes.
At home, Milo asked Aaron a question over dinner.
“If Chase is being nicer because people are watching him, is that fake?”
Claire looked at Aaron.
Aaron had learned that parenting involved unexpectedly complex moral philosophy between bites of macaroni.
“Maybe.”
Milo frowned.
“That's not an answer.”
“Sometimes people start doing the right thing for the wrong reason.”
“Like what?”
“You clean your room because I tell you to.”
“I hate cleaning my room.”
“Exactly.”
Claire laughed.
Aaron continued.
“But if you do it enough, maybe you learn where things belong and like having a clean room.”
“I won't.”
“Bad example.”
Milo smiled.
“So Chase can be fake nice until he's real nice?”
“Possibly.”
“What if he never becomes real?”
“Then people around him are still safer while he's following the rules.”
Milo thought.
“Rules matter.”
“Yes.”
“But Dad?”
“Yeah?”
“If someone only says sorry because they're scared of losing money, does the sorry count?”
Aaron set down his fork.
Claire did too.
Milo had asked a version of this before.
Now he wanted a real answer.
“It counts as words,” Aaron said.
“Not as being sorry?”
“Being sorry is harder to measure.”
“How do you know?”
“By what someone does afterward.”
Milo nodded slowly.
“So we wait.”
“Exactly.”
That night, Chase received an email from a former assistant.
Her name was Sarah Kim.
She had worked for him three years earlier.
I heard about the changes at Barron. I don't know whether they will last. But I want you to know that when I worked for you, I was afraid every day that one mistake would cost me my job. You probably don't remember telling me I was lucky to be in the room. I remember.
Chase read it twice.
He remembered Sarah.
Barely.
That was the problem.
He called Gavin.
“I want to respond.”
“Legally?”
“Humanly.”
Gavin sighed.
“Show me the draft.”
Chase wrote:
Sarah, I do remember you. I did not remember saying that, but I believe you. I’m sorry. You should not have been afraid to work for me. I’m not asking you to accept the apology.
Gavin read it.
“No admissions of unlawful conduct.”
“Do we really have to do this?”
“Yes.”
Chase stared.
Then he sent the message almost unchanged.
Sarah did not reply.
He had to learn to live with that too.
Three days later, Chase drove to Riverside.
The old appliance shop had been sold.
Now it was a flooring warehouse.
He parked the supercar across the street.
For years, he had imagined returning to places like this as proof he had escaped them.
Now he remembered his father loading washing machines in August heat.
A man who never owned a luxury watch.
Never flew private.
Never had an investment committee.
Yet Chase could not remember him humiliating anyone who worked beneath him.
His father had less money than Chase.
And somehow more security.
Chase sat in the car for a long time.
Then his phone buzzed.
Martin.
Need your approval on the revised employee conduct statement.
Chase opened it.
One sentence stood out:
No employee's status, compensation, title, or perceived importance changes the standard of respect owed to them.
May you like
Chase read it again.
Then approved it without editing a word.
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