Kelly scrolled her way through the news story on her desktop computer. Children were being hospitalized by the dozens because of side effects to medication. The main suspect? Mendacium. A spokesman for the company declined to comment. Kelly knew why.

She flicked a bittersweet glance to the family photos on her desk—the corporate reminder of a life being missed. She’d be able to spend more time with Milly if she quit her job—but leaving would carry a high price.

She jumped as her phone buzzed. Extension 664. Arnold. Kelly punched the screen. “Arnold, you’re on speaker.”

Arnold hesitated as if shelving a planned salvo. “My office.” Click.

Kelly took a deep breath and one last, lingering look at her cubicle before heading past Jasmine toward the office at the end of the row. Jasmine raised her eyebrows with a mouthed Good luck.

With a polite knock, Kelly walked into a withering look of disapproval from her supervisor. He pointed to his empty guest chair.

Kelly sat, hands folded in her lap. Perhaps her choice would be made for her.

Arnold stared, his silence demanding a blurted apology from her.

Kelly’s indignation rose. Why should she have to play games with this career middle manager? She wouldn’t give him the pleasure. “I’m getting questions about the links between Mendacium and these side effects the media is reporting. And to meet the Rubicon Pharma 110 percent customer service guarantee, I need some answers.”

Arnold sat bolt upright in his chair. “Links? What are they saying about links?”

A part of Kelly enjoyed watching the little man squirm. “I was looking forward to Mr. Gascon addressing that media attention like he promised, but I’m not sure he did—not in a way I can relay to my customers, anyway.”

Arnold flushed beet red as his neck veins seemed to throb. “As our chief executive and leader, Mr. Gascon is not to be questioned. On anything. You are just looking to destabilize our team. That much was obvious when you interrupted our CEO in front of the entire company.”

Kelly glanced around, horrified her snigger had escaped. “Arnold, I’m just trying to do the right thing. We’re dealing with people’s lives here. Children’s lives.”

Arnold oozed a greasy smile, leaned on his elbows, and drilled a gaze into Kelly. “No, we’re in business. We have products. People have needs, and if they want our help, they will buy our product. That’s how the marketplace works.”

“But in our case, I want to make sure the marketplace doesn’t make them sick—or worse.”

The oil from Arnold’s smile almost dripped down his chin. “While you’re signing your career’s death warrant, is there anything else?”

Kelly couldn’t help herself. “So this Restless Soul Syndrome . . .”

Arnold rocked back in his chair. “Yes?”

“Seriously? How much research and development went into that?”