Chapter 18

CHAD MALCOLM

Chad Malcolm stood on the roof of the Corville headquarters of Leviathan Inc.

This morning was the first time he and Darcy had gotten into a real fight.

The catalyst had just been the stress, he figured. All of the pressure from having to deal with the whistleblower's claims and now Charlie Springs having named the disease Arkreyitis, a name that held absolutely no evidence behind it but that had begun to stick in the minds of the general public.

Darcy didn't mean it. He certainly didn't either.

She just needed some space, and he just needed some fresh air.

They would be back together as good as new soon enough.

So why did it hurt so much?

Chad laced his fingers together, forearms on the railing. A breeze blew through, ruffling his hair.

"Why were you so upset, Darcy?" Chad whispered. "What had you so angry?"

They had been working in their joint office, each typing away on their computers, trying to work through every PR hoop to make all the right statements and take all the right actions to show people that Leviathan Inc. really could be trusted, just like they always bad been. The disease was horrible, but it wasn't Leviathan Inc.'s fault. The whistleblower was wrong. Charlie Springs was wrong, too.

Leviathan Inc. was innocent.

Chad had asked Darcy if she had a moment to go over a draft of a statement he was writing. He had almost repeated himself since she was hunched over in front of her computer and looking at the screen, a slight furrow in her eyebrows in a focused expression that Chad found gorgeous on her.

"What do you need my help on?" Darcy had replied, sitting up to focus her attention on him, and her hair swished back over her shoulders and cascaded down her back in gently waving locks that gave her the appearance of a goddess.

"I'd like your opinion on a draft of a statement regarding Charlie Springs's statements at the Waverwell News interview where she named the disease Arkreyitis."

Darcy had stared at him for several long moments, eyes narrowed in a squinty expression.

And then she scoffed. "Why does it always have to be me doing everything?" she snapped.

Chad had flinched. "I... I'm sorry?"

"Why can't you do something on your own for a change? God."

"Are you alright? What has you feeling upset, honey?"

"Don't honey me, Chad."

Darcy had stood up and walked over to his desk.

Chad had pushed back his chair and stood up, allowing his wife to sit down in it when she read through the drafted statement. Darcy adjusted the monitor so it was lower. She looked it over, scrolling through the document, before spinning around in the chair.

"This is fine, Chad. You didn't need me to look it over. In the future, don't ask me to come check on things like this. You know we both have just so much to do."

"What's going on, Darcy?" Chad blocked her when she tried to return to her own desk. Whatever it was, he wanted to fix it. Whatever might have been bothering her, he could help. He just wanted her to tell him.

"Nothing. I'm fine."

"Please, Darcy. Something is wrong. I want to be there for you and help in any way I can."

"I said I'm fine."

A pang of hurt lanced through his chest. Darcy had never spoken to him like that before, and he didn't know what was wrong.

There was a coldness in Darcy's gaze Chad had never seen before. A hollow stare he had never once seen in her eyes. She stared at him evenly, and Chad didn't know what to do.

They stood there in silence beside his desk. Chad wracked his brain for anything that might tell him why Darcy was so upset. Perhaps it was just a simple reason— she had gotten into an argument with an employee, she hadn't slept well, she had eaten bad food and was feeling ill, something small that could be easily worked out. Maybe it was just that, and Chad hoped it was.

"Would you like some space?" he had asked, voice soft as he tried to keep the hurt hidden. "I can give you some time to yourself if that's what you want right now. I want to know what I can do, Darcy."

"Sure." Darcy's voice was hard, a blade of steel.

Chad had taken a moment to ready himself and then nodded. "Ok, I will give you some time to yourself. I will be up on the roof if you need anything, and I will have my phone with me. Just call or message if there's anything I can do."

Darcy had continued to stare straight forward as Chad grabbed his jacket and walked around her before he'd made his way to the elevator to go up to the roof deck. She didn't look his way.

What had gotten her so upset? Chad didn't know, and he wanted to fix it. But he couldn't help something he didn't know.

A breeze blew through, nipping at his skin through his shirt, and he pulled on his jacket.

Maybe Darcy was just tired. Maybe it was something so simple like that.

Chad had been tired. He hadn't been sleeping well. Everything going on at Leviathan Inc. had been weighing on him, stressing him out as he tried to figure out the right way to lead his company forward.

He pushed himself off of the railing of the roof deck and paced back and forth a few times.

The fairy lights strung up over the seating area shone right in his eyes as he sat down heavily on one of the couches and leaned back. Chad glared at them but then folded an arm over his face and took a deep breath.

He could figure this out. He didn't know how, but he knew he was capable. He just needed the right information —that key piece he did not yet have— and then everything would fall into place.

There was a path forward, he knew it. Things just weren't quite clear yet.

xxxx

Chad's phone buzzed in his pocket, and he fished it out. A message was waiting for him from Freya Fisk, the receptionist at the Corville headquarters of Leviathan Inc.

Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

A letter was waiting for him.

Chad frowned. He wasn't expecting a letter, but the CEO of a company as big as Leviathan Inc. often led to mail from a wide variety of people, including those who simply were curious and wanted to ask questions. Many more of the letters he now received were hate mail— harsh sentences hashed out in bold text, demanding answers Chad couldn't give.

How could you do this? Was it just some sick desire for money? Was the whistleblower right— did you really create this disease? Is your head so far up in the clouds you can't see what it's like for the rest of us? Have you forgotten what life is like when you don't have endless money to throw around?

Chad wished he could have a chance to talk with every single person who sent a letter like this. He wished he could tell them that Leviathan Inc. was not at fault. That he wanted the disease gone just as much as they did. That he had looked over every safety report to ensure everything was working as it should be. That the disease was horrible, but Leviathan Inc. was innocent.

What benefit would Chad get by destroying the lives of countless people in Waverwell? Including customers?

Chad stretched his arms up over his head, then stood up from the couch, straightening his shirt.

The elevator ride down to the lobby was quick and direct.

Only a handful of people milled about in the lobby, scattered across the room. Some sitting on the couches and chairs, others moving to their destinations. But even with more people than Chad had seen in a while, the numbers were still a fraction of those he had once seen. The row of doors to the Corville headquarters of Leviathan Inc. remained still. Closed.

They will start up again, Chad told himself. They will start moving once more.

He gave the doors one last look before crossing the lobby to Freya Fisk's desk.

She wore a loose blouse printed with butterflies, and her frizzy hair had been pulled up into a half bun, a few locks hung down in front of her face.

"Hello, Freya," Chad said. "You messaged me about a letter a few minutes ago?"

Freya stared at him for just a moment before nodding.

"Oh, hello, Mr. Malcolm," she said, closing a notebook and turning her attention to him. "Just give me one moment, please."

"Alright."

"It just arrived right before I messaged you." She sifted through a divider drawer of mail before finding the right one.

Freya held out the letter, and Chad took it. There was no return address, simply Chad Malcolm, Leviathan Inc. Corville Headquarters written in neat, uniform text. Seemingly anyone's handwriting.

"Did you see who brought in the letter?"

Freya paused, before offering a sympathetic smile. "No, I'm sorry. I don't remember what they looked like. Well... I guess I remember that they had blue eyes, but I don't know how helpful that would really be."

"It's ok. I was just wondering." Chad gave a tight-lipped smile in return.

He took the letter opener Freya gave him and cut open the envelope. There was only one sheet of paper inside, folded into neat thirds.

Don't you remember?

Do you not remember?

They're digging, Chad.

They're digging.

And they can't be digging now, can they?

Chad was grateful for all of his experience at steeling his expression and not reacting. Those skills came in handy now, although he knew Freya would never ask what the letter was.

He started to walk back toward the elevators after a brief thank you, but then stopped and returned to Freya's desk as a thought crossed his mind.

"I was wondering," Chad started as he folded the letter back up into the envelope and stuck it in his pocket. "Have you seen Felix Fisk recently?"

Freya shook her head. "No, I have not, Mr. Malcolm."

"Where is he? I heard on the news about what happened, and I wanted to see how he was doing. Please make sure he knows that he doesn't need to worry about his job— it's his whenever he feels ready to return, and he will continue to get his usual paychecks for as long as he needs time off. There is absolutely no rush. It's not much, but it's what I can do."

Freya held his gaze for a few moments, then looked down at her desk, absently shifting papers into various piles. She chewed on her lip.

"I would pass the message along," she murmured, "but I haven't spoken with Felix in a few days. Almost a week."

Chad felt bad for asking. "Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to pry."

Freya waved her hand in a dismissal. "No, no, I didn't mean it like that, Mr. Malcolm. With everything that's been going on, people are worried about the Trinity. The Moonfall Precinct is keeping him safe, and part of that means I can't speak with him. No contact at all, and I can't know where he is."

"Do you need some time off? Don't worry about vacation days. Just paid time off for you to do whatever you feel is needed, with no strings attached."

Chad dipped his head in acknowledgement when someone greeted him as they walked by in the lobby.

"I greatly appreciate that, Mr. Malcolm. That is very generous of you. But this is distracting me. At home, there is nothing I can do except hope and pray that Felix will be ok. But here I have my job to do and people to keep my mind elsewhere."

Chad couldn't say he understood. He could get work being a distraction, at least to an extent. But he had never been in Freya's situation before. If she said paid time off wasn't what she needed, he would accept that.

"Ok," he replied. "If you need anything at all though, please don't hesitate to ask. The offer still stands if you change your mind, and if you need to leave early or come in late, you may do so. All I ask, though, is that you let me know so I can ensure someone is working here. But take as much time for yourself as you need. I cannot imagine how stressful this whole thing is for you, and I don't want work to add any more stress."

Freya nodded. "Thank you, Mr. Malcolm. I appreciate it."

"Of course. It's the least I can do."

"Thank you."

Chad glanced back at the elevator. He didn't want to return to the office yet. Darcy had seemed so upset. If she needed space, the last thing he wanted to do was to cause her more trouble. Maybe that was all she would really need— some space.

"Do you have somewhere you need to be? I don't wish to keep you if you have places to be, Mr. Malcolm."

Chad turned back to Freya, and he shook his head. "No, it's not that. Darcy just had a meeting and wanted me out of our office."

It felt wrong lying to Freya, but it also didn't feel right sharing something so like a fight. What if Darcy was having some personal trouble?

Freya tilted her head to the side, then nodded. "Alright. You know, there is one good thing about my job."

"What's the good thing about it?" Chad took the bait.

"I know when people aren't being truthful. And that's not me pushing you for the truth— it's your business, not mine."

"So your job lets you be like a human lie detector?"

Freya twisted her mouth as she pondered the question. She leaned back in her chair. "Not exactly. More it's that my job is one that allows me to often get overlooked. No one really looks at me twice, if they even notice me at all. I'm a people watcher, and they don't watch me back."

"So you just watch people all day?"

Freya smiled, and inclined her head in a slight nod. "Well, when you put it that way, it sounds a bit creepy. I don't watch people and just stare at them, but I notice things. I spend all day in the lobby of this building, so I see pretty much everyone who comes into the Corville headquarters. This job is a lot of work— pointing people in the right direction of wherever they're going, signing off on mail slips and making sure packages get to the right desk, restaurant recommendations for tourists, and answering phone calls and forwarding said calls to the right person. But it also has some down time, and it lets me interact with many people for just a few brief moments all day. You'd be surprised what people will say to me and what secrets I know."

Chad raised an eyebrow. "Really? What have people told you?"

"I've heard about cheating spouses or how they're finding their coworker so very attractive. People have told me about how their pets are eating shoes or how their children are coloring on the walls. More than a few times someone has come in and shared complaints about how their spouse is doing this or that and it's driving them up the wall."

"So it seems you know a lot of things," Chad said.

Freya shrugged. "I suppose. It's mostly a lot of pretty harmless things like that— a significant other doing something annoying or a kid acting out because they're just at that age."

Chad hummed, nodding. "Yeah, I can see that. Well, I'd best be going. It was very nice talking with you, Freya. And please, let me know if there is anything I can do. I cannot imagine what this time has been like for you and Felix."

"I will, and thank you. Have a nice rest of your day, Mr. Malcolm."

"You too, Freya."

Chad made his way back to the elevator, and the letter was a lead weight in his pocket.

They're digging. And they can't be digging now, can they?

He didn't like that. It didn't make him feel good. But there was some way to fix it all. To make everything go back to how it was. A smooth engine running efficiently, just as it had been designed to. Not the smoking, faltering thing it was now.

He would figure out what had made Darcy so upset, fix it, and then turn his attention to Leviathan Inc.

Maybe he would have to make some trip back out to Cat's Cradle. Return to the Night Owl to take a look at every part of his company.

Perhaps it would let him see if there really was some festering sore in the side of the serpent that needed to be removed.

If there was some rotten part of his company, if there was some shifting demon hiding within the depths of Leviathan Inc., if there was some skittering little spider hiding within the walls, then Chad would find them. Rotten flesh could be cut out, a demon captured, a spider crushed beneath a heel.

Leviathan Inc. could rise again. It would rise again. Chad could see his goal off in the distance; he just had to find a way to cross the valley —this rough patch in the road— first.