Chapter 26 #2
Grey’s voice is low and controlled, but there’s an edge to it that makes me wince. “You put Amelia in danger. You gave Langley access to her home, and he hurt her. You stole from her, even if you didn’t do it directly. We should call the police on you right now.”
Hendricks just nods, his gaze flickering toward the closed door where Willow had disappeared.
If something happens to Hendricks, what will happen to Willow?
She’s already struggling, and the thought of her being left alone makes my stomach churn.
“You never wanted to hurt me, right?” I ask softly, and his eyes snap back to me, filled with a mixture of guilt and desperation.
He shakes his head vehemently, tears brimming in his eyes.
“No, Stanley, I swear I didn’t. I genuinely thought I was helping you, protecting you.
I was worried about you. But when I realized I was the one bringing you harm and that they were the good ones…
it was too late. I was trapped in my own mess. ”
I glance at Misha and Oliver. They’re both still tense, but there’s a flicker of something else in their expressions—conflict, maybe. They’re angry, but they also understand what it’s like to be driven by fear and desperation. I take a deep breath and turn back to Hendricks.
“I’m willing to forgive you,” I say, keeping my tone steady.
“But only if you’re willing to speak up and testify against Langley…
with Elysium, with the police, with whoever needs to hear the truth so I can get my work back.
And if you do, we’ll make sure nothing bad happens to you or Willow. We’ll protect you.”
Hendricks looks up at me, hope flickering in his tired eyes, but he quickly shakes his head. “You can’t promise that. The law is the law. What I did… there are consequences.”
I smile at him, a small, reassuring smile, and then look over at Grey.
The guy who can hack himself into everything.
The guy who can lie his way out of the Pentagon.
“We can, Hendricks. I promise you, we can.”
Grey meets my gaze, and after a moment, he nods. “If you cooperate fully, we’ll make sure the authorities understand the full context of what happened. But you have to be all in. No half measures.”
Hendricks looks like he might collapse from relief, nodding vigorously. “I will. I’ll… I’ll do anything to make amends. A-anything,” he stammers, his hands trembling slightly.
Just then, the door to Willows’s room creaks open, and she comes back into the living area. “Dad, I’m hungry,” she says, her voice still tinged with that sharp edge, but there’s a vulnerability there too.
Hendricks immediately pulls her to a side hug, holding her close as if she’s the most precious thing in the world. His eyes meet mine, filled with a silent plea. “As long as Willow will be okay… I’ll help with whatever you need, Stanley.”
Willow looks up at me, curiosity flickering in her eyes before she rolls them dramatically, crossing her arms over her chest. “For the hundredth time, it’s so weird that you guys are friends and still call each other by your last names.”
I smirk, grateful for the break in the tension.
Misha chuckles, nodding in agreement. “Yeah, seriously. I’ve been wondering about that too. What’s the deal with the last names?”
I shrug, glancing at Hendricks with a small smile. “Honestly? I’m not sure. I think I just went along with it because he started it.”
Hendricks smiles back at me, pulling Willow closer, though she quickly pushes him away and stands beside him with a bit of distance.
Typical preteen.
Hendricks doesn’t seem fazed, though, as he begins to explain, “You know, there’s something subtle but significant that happens when we talk about people, especially in professional settings.
When men achieve something noteworthy, we often refer to them by just their last name.
Darwin, Dickens, Shakespeare. But when it comes to women, even those who are equally accomplished, we tend to use their full names.
Marie Curie, Emily Dickinson, Jane Austen.
It’s as if there’s an underlying bias that suggests a woman isn’t as widely recognized or deserving of prominence, so we feel the need to specify her full name.
But by doing that, we can unintentionally diminish her standing, as if she’s not on the same level…
” He pauses, locking eyes with me, and there’s a depth of sincerity in his gaze that makes my breath hitch.
“So, when I call Stanley by her last name, it’s a deliberate choice.
She’s brilliant, already doing incredible things, and I have no doubt she’ll accomplish even more in the future.
I want to acknowledge her the same way I do with any other male colleagues I respect…
by her last name alone. And honestly, it’s not just about her.
It’s about the kind of world I want my daughter to grow up in.
I want Willow to see that women can be recognized and respected just as much as men without needing extra qualifiers.
Stanley deserves that recognition, and I’m committed to making sure she gets it. ”
His words hang in the air, and for a moment, I’m stunned.
I’ve always taken the last-name thing in stride, never really thinking much of it.
But hearing Hendricks explain it like that—knowing he’s thought so deeply about it, about what it means for Willow and me—makes me see it and him in a new light.
It’s not just a habit. It’s a statement.
A small but powerful way of showing respect and equality.
I realize that despite all the mess he’s created, his intentions were rooted in something good, something I can forgive.
We’re all here, flawed and struggling but trying to do right by each other. A soft smile forms on Willows’ lips as she steps slightly closer to her dad again.
We’re all trying.