Chapter 5: The Worst Thing Greg Ever Said
I didn't tell Emily about the call.
Not yet.
I told myself it was to protect her — she was seven months pregnant, the morning had already been overwhelming, and there was nothing she could do with the information before six o'clock anyway.
But the truth was simpler than that.
I didn't know how to say it out loud yet.
That the fire might not have been an accident.
That three people had nearly d*ed — an elderly man, a mother, a four-year-old boy — and that someone might have chosen that.
I spent the afternoon making calls.
Arthur had connected me with his lawyer, a woman named Grace Ellison, who spoke in short sentences and asked precise questions.
She wanted a written account of everything Greg had said on the doorstep that morning — the offer, the exact words, the presence of the camera.
"He offered you a deal in front of a news crew," she said.
"He didn't realize the camera was on."
"People rarely do." A pause.
"Write it all down.
Time, location, exact words.
Send it to me before five."
I was at the kitchen table writing when Greg called.
I stared at his name on the screen for three full rings.
Then I answered.
"You need to pull back," Greg said.
No greeting.
"Whatever Calloway told you this morning, you need to understand that man has his own agenda.
He's trying to shift liability for that building onto my company.
He's been planning this since the fire marshal showed up."
"His building caught fire, Greg."
"Buildings catch fire.
Wiring fails.
It's a forty-year-old structure." His voice was controlled but moving fast.
"I have lawyers who will bury this inspection dispute for years.
Calloway knows that.
So he's using you — the hero from the fire — to put a face on it.
To make it personal."
"Three people almost d*ed."
"And they didn't.
Because of you.
And I respect that, Daniel, I genuinely do.
Which is why I'm calling you directly instead of going through lawyers." He took a breath.
"I'll give you eighteen months' salary.
Cash settlement, no paperwork, no conditions.
You walk away, you say nothing to the press, and your family is taken care of while you find something new.
Your wife is pregnant.
Think about what that money means right now."
I wrote down the amount he said.
The time.
The exact words.
"And if I don't?" I said.
His voice shifted.
Just slightly.
Just enough.
"Then I start asking questions about why a waiter making twelve dollars an hour was the first person through that door.
Whether someone tipped him off.
Whether there's a reason he knew exactly where to go." He paused.
"Mud sticks, Daniel.
Even when it's not true.
Especially when there's a pregnant wife and a kid in the picture and reporters looking for a more complicated story."
The kitchen was very quiet.
"Are you threatening my family?" I said.
"I'm describing how these things go.
I've been in this industry for twenty-two years.
I know how stories get rewritten."
I didn't say anything.
"Think about it," Greg said.
"You have until tomorrow morning."
He hung up.
I sat with the phone in my hand for a long moment.
Then I opened the voice memo app.
May you like
The recording light was still red.
I had started it on the second ring.
