The Call That Should’ve Waited

The living room was quiet—too quiet—except for the whisper of papers sliding against each other as I reorganized the mountain of financial files on the coffee table. I’d just gotten the evidence sorted, finally feeling like my heartbeat wasn’t trying to sprint out of my chest, when my phone lit up again. Mom Calling… Of course. Because nothing says “your life is burning down beautifully” quite like your parents calling for the third time in two days. I stared at the screen, jaw tightening. They never called this much unless someone was dying. Or worse—unless someone in Silicon Valley was talking. Which they were. I swiped to answer, pressing the phone between my shoulder and cheek as I flipped through a folder of transaction logs. “Renee,” my mother started, breathless like she’d jogged across the country just to reach the phone. “We heard something. Are you still with Victor?” There it was. No warming up. No hello. No how are you, sweetheart—just straight to the jugular, as always. I squeezed the bridge of my nose. “Depends what you heard.” A pause. Too long. Too telling. “You know how the Valley is,” she said, voice dropping to a dramatic whisper. “People talk. We thought you should know before it gets worse.” My father’s voice chimed in the background—loud, irritated. “Just ask her! This is serious! Investors are talking about a scandal—” I closed my eyes. That word. Scandal. A word that followed money like a shadow. A word that tore reputations faster than truth could catch up. A word that—after everything I’d been uncovering—felt like a match hovering over gasoline. “Renee,” Mom continued, “is Victor in some kind of trouble? Is that why you sound… stressed?” I laughed, a sharp, humorless sound. “I think stressed is an understatement.” Another pause. The kind that hinted they already knew more than they were letting on. “Sweetheart,” she said more gently, “whatever’s happening… you need to be careful. People are saying things. And if the rumors are true—” “And what rumors would those be?” I cut in, flipping a page that showed one of Victor’s “creative” expense reports. The numbers glared back at me like they were mocking. My mother hesitated. My father did not. “That he’s been hiding money,” he said bluntly. “That he’s moving funds around. And that someone close to him is going to pay the price.” My blood chilled. Not fear. Not surprise. Just confirmation. Because I’d already seen the proof. I swallowed hard. “I appreciate the warning,” I said quietly, “but I’m… handling it.” “Renee—” Mom began. “I’m handling it,” I repeated, firmer this time. I hung up before they could say anything else—before my mother’s worry could turn into guilt, or my father’s frustration could become interrogation. The file in my hand shook slightly. So the Valley was talking. Which meant the clock was ticking. And whatever Victor thought he could hide… The world was already starting to see.