Page 18 - TruthAboutLyingFinal

The Truth About Lying
Logan was thirty-four, though no one at Cerulean said it out loud anymore. They had stopped noticing his age once they realized he was usually the smartest person in the room.
“Why wasn’t it fixed?” Henry asked.
Logan didn’t blink. “Eighty million dollars.” No one spoke.
There it was.
Not fate. Not bad luck. Not a tragic accident. A budget decision.
Henry looked back at the names.
A maintenance supervisor.
A night-shift cleaner.
A single father of two.
A woman six months from retirement.
Forty-three others whose lives were now a legal exposure, a communications problem, and a threat to shareholder confidence.
“Can you help us?” one of the executives asked. Henry should have stood up.
He should have walked out.
Instead, he opened his tablet.
“Yes,” he said.
The relief in the room was immediate.
That was the first thing he hated himself for. Not the plan. Not even the words.
The relief.
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