They Poisoned My Father, So I Bankrupted Their Billion-Dollar Empire

Chapter 2: The List

Jack sat on an overturn bucket, the renovation forgotten. He flipped through the pages, his calloused fingers tracing lines of data that looked more like a corporate ledger than a personal diary.

The pages were filled with shift logs from the 1990s. Chemical formulas. Ventilation failures. And names.

Dozens of names. Next to each was a handwritten status. Miller, Thomas - Lethal Exposure, Sector 4. Johnson, Ray - Lethal Exposure, Sector 4.

"Dad," Jack whispered. The pieces of the puzzle slammed together. The chronic cough his father developed in '98. The denial of his workers' compensation claim because the company doctors insisted it was "genetic." It wasn't bad luck; it was gross negligence.

Jack scanned the margins. There were notes about liability insurance caps and internal memos discussing the cost-benefit analysis of upgrading the filters versus paying off widows. It was a blueprint for wrongful death.

The vibration of his phone against his thigh startled him. He pulled it out. It was his mother.

"Hey, Ma, I'm just finishing up at the house—"

"Jack," she wheezed. The sound was wet and ragged. "I can't breathe. There's... there's blood on the pillow."