Final Negotiation

My wife, the city's top crisis negotiator, had saved countless hostages. But when our daughter was kidnapped, her negotiations failed, and the kidnapper killed her.

I sat on the cold floor, clutching our daughters blood-stained plush toy. She, meanwhile, calmly sorted her files, ready to leave the station.

"The kidnappers were irrational, their demands kept shifting. No one could have reached them. I did everything I could."

But that night, her young assistant Doug posted on his private Instagram story:

[First live negotiation and I messed upsaid the wrong thing, angered the kidnappers, nearly got the hostage killed. My mentor saved the day and comforted me.]

[Shes going to teach me all her secrets. A special perk just for me? My heart is fluttering~]

The photo showed her wrist, wearing the braided bracelet our daughter made for her birthday.

My hands shook as I typed a reply:

[No need to wonder. Let her husband answer: Yes, its a perk just for you.]

Seconds later, my phone rang. Monicas usually gentle voice was tight with anger.

"That was just the assistants dumb joke. Are you really overreacting? Youll ruin his career!"

"Youre not thinking straight. Delete that comment now, or were"

I hung up.

The people responsible for my daughters death were laughing and living freely. What right did they have?

...

An hour later, I had over twenty missed calls from Monica. I didn't answer a single one.

The text messages kept chiming. "Since you insist on blaming him for this, then there's no point in us continuing. I'll have the divorce papers sent to the house. Just sign them."

I stared at the screen for a long moment before replying with a single word: "Okay."

She went completely silent. No follow-up questions, no further threats.

I packaged all the photos from Doug's Instagram, the group dinner selfies, and a leaked audio snippet of him provoking the kidnappers during the negotiation. I tried to send the file to her.

"Monica, our daughter is dead. Are you really telling me he bears absolutely no responsibility?"

A red exclamation mark popped up. Message failed to send.

She had blocked my number.

When I refreshed Instagram, Doug's profile had been scrubbed clean. The previous stories were gone, replaced by a single new post:

[I was so nervous shadowing Captain Monica today. I misspoke and almost ruined everything, but thankfully her quick reflexes saved the situation. The team dinner tonight was just Captain Monica worrying that I might develop PTSD, so she was counseling me. I'm so sorry if anyone misunderstood.]

The photo attached showed him looking down, hands clasped in prayer, looking incredibly innocent.

Monica commented underneath: [Don't be scared. We learn from our mistakes. I'll guide you.]

A flood of comforting replies immediately followed.

"It's totally normal for rookies to make mistakes! Captain Monica is so protective of her team!"

"Someone is being way too sensitive, aren't they? Yes, it's tragic the kid didn't make it, but you can't just take it out on innocent people."

"Doug is so lucky to have such an amazing boss."

I forced a bitter smile, silently committing every single one of those names to memory.

Back then, I had pulled every string and burned every favor I had to get Monica transferred into the elite Crisis Negotiation Unit so she could realize her potential.

I exhausted my family's resources to build her case portfolio and establish her reputation.

Now she was an industry legend. Naturally, everyone around her basked in the glory, to the point where even a rookie assistant felt entitled to walk all over me.

They probably assumed that without her, I was nothing, forced to swallow whatever disrespect they threw my way.

Doug replied to every comment with a shy emoji, and to Monica, he sent an animated sticker with heart eyes.

When the doorbell rang, I was packing away my daughter's old photos and toys.

Standing on the porch was one of Monica's colleagues. He held a manila envelope and a small cardboard box.

"Captain Monica asked me to drop this off," he said, shifting awkwardly. "These are the divorce papers. And... Doug said you might be feeling down, so he told me to give you this to calm your nerves."

"The box says it's some kind of herbal sleep aid."

"Though, honestly, Alec, you look pretty calm to me."

I shoved the box back into his chest. "Tell him I am perfectly calm."

I closed the door, pulled the divorce papers from the envelope, and meticulously signed my name on the dotted line.

My phone buzzed. It was a message from the Director of the Negotiation Bureau.

"Alec, can you reconsider? The other transfers are fine, but how can you reassign Monica and Doug to the border conflict zone?"

"I know you're grieving your daughter, and I understand you're angry with Monica. But you can't be this reckless with departmental operations. This isn't a game. You're ruining two top-tier negotiators. Think about all the hostages who won't be saved without them."

I replied coldly, "You're right. I completely forgot about you. You are suspended pending review. Command will send someone to replace you."

Without waiting for a reply, I called Internal Affairs and instructed them to seize full control of the Negotiation Unit's personnel roster.

"Anyoneand I mean anyonewho pleads for leniency on behalf of Monica or Doug is to be immediately reassigned to the conflict zone rotation. If they refuse, terminate them and demand full reimbursement for their tactical training costs."

I stroked my daughter's favorite stuffed bunny, enunciating every word clearly.

Every single team member who had defended Doug in those comments had been recruited through my influence. I was the one who ran their simulation drills, analyzed their case studies, and trained them from the ground up.

Now, all they cared about was kissing up to Monica, completely forgetting who gave them their badges in the first place.

Birds of a feather. They were all sycophants.

People with corrupted morals have no business being crisis negotiators.

They needed to go to the most dangerous, volatile regions to test their courage and learn what responsibility and boundaries actually meant.

After hanging up, I noticed over twenty missed calls from Monica.

She must have been going insane. She even sent a new contact request on a secondary app. The verification message simply read: ANSWER THE PHONE NOW!

As I was reading it, a new call came through.

The moment I answered, her rage exploded through the speaker.

"Are you out of your mind?! I'm about to be nominated for the International Crisis Envoy, and Doug is slated for the core tactical team! You reassigned us to a war zone?!"

"Alec, what happened to our daughter was a tragic accident! I am hurting just as much as you are!"

"Those kidnappers were complete psychopaths! No negotiator on earth could have saved her! It wasn't my fault, and it wasn't Doug's fault!"

"I've explained this to you a hundred times, but you just won't let it go! The reason I didn't let you listen to the audio logs was because I knew it would break you! And how do you repay me? You spread malicious rumors and abuse your administrative power to ruin his career!"

Her usually composed voice was trembling with fury.

I asked quietly, "When you rushed out that night, did you really have an emergency dispatch? And was Doug's 'slip of the tongue' truly an innocent mistake, and you were just giving him psychological counseling?"

"Or did you two plan it all along, using a field assignment as a cover for a date?"

The heavy breathing on the other end abruptly stopped.

Two seconds of dead silence passed. Then, she feigned outrage. "What the hell are you talking about... you're completely irrational..."

Then, I heard Doug's smug voice in the background. "Captain, don't argue with Alec. We finally got a chance to relax, let's not let him ruin the mood. When we get back, I'll apologize to him personally. I'll take whatever punishment he wants."

The call immediately disconnected.

I guess she didn't want this little argument ruining her romantic getaway.

I clutched the plush bunny to my chest, tears streaming uncontrollably down my face.

"Daddy is going to get justice for you, sweetie."

I didn't know how long I cried before I passed out. I only knew that when I woke up, my head felt like it was splitting open.

The next morning, rubbing my temples, I walked downstairs for a cold coffee.

Monica walked into the living room holding a storage box. Seeing me, she paused, her expression softening into forced gentleness. "You're awake? I organized all of Lily's drawings. See if this looks okay."

"I know how much these mean to you. I didn't let anyone else touch them. I drove back overnight to do it myself."

Before I could tell her I'd do it myself, a figure walked out of the guest room wearing my pajamas.

They were a matching set Monica had bought for us, something I only ever wore around the house.

He was holding a microfiber cloth and quickly jogged over to Monica. "Captain, take a break. Let me wipe down the tables. If Alec doesn't mind, I can help organize too?"

Monica shifted slightly, avoiding his hand, her tone slightly awkward. "No need. Alec can handle it."

She turned to me, offering a quick explanation. "It was pouring rain when we drove back. Doug's clothes got soaked. I told him to go back to the barracks to change, but he insisted on helping out to make amends, so I gave him a set of your clothes for now."

Doug wrung the cloth in his hands, speaking softly. "Alec, I am so sorry about yesterday. I didn't dare touch any of Lily's things. I just wanted to help dust. Please don't hold a grudge."

"Enough. The past is the past," Monica interrupted him, her tone softening as she looked at me. "Alec, he means well. Don't overthink it."

She paused, adding, "I cleared my schedule for next week. I'll stay home with you for a few days. We won't talk about work until after her memorial service."

I didn't answer. My eyes were fixed on the corner of a drawing sticking out of the storage boxit was Lily's family portrait. She had drawn the three of us holding hands tightly.

As Doug was wiping the table, his elbow 'accidentally' knocked into the box. A few drawings spilled out onto the floor.

He scrambled to pick them up, but he lost his footing and stepped squarely onto the family portrait. His shoe left a thick, muddy footprint right over the drawing.

"Oh no!" he gasped, his face turning pale. "I'm so sorry, Alec! I swear I didn't mean to!"

Monica frowned deeply, but her anger wasn't directed at Doug. She turned to me. "Look what happens when you don't secure the box properly."

She bent down, picked up the drawing, and tried to rub the dirt off with her thumb. Her tone was impatient. "Forget it. I'll get it framed later. The glass will hide the stain."

I watched her brush it off so casually, my entire body shaking.

"That was my daughter's last drawing." My voice trembled. "You told him not to touch anything. Is he deaf?"

Doug was still frantically trying to wipe the paper, his tears falling and blurring the crayon lines. "I really didn't mean to... Captain, I..."

"Enough!" Watching the drawing smear further, I violently shoved him backward. "Who gave you the right to touch her things!"

Doug lost his balance and hit the floor hard. Tears streamed down his face instantly. "Alec... I..."

"Alec! Are you crazy?!" Monica screamed. She rushed over and helped Doug up. "He just stepped on a piece of paper by accident! Did you really have to hit him?"

She glared at me with absolute venom. "Lily is gone. I am just as heartbroken as you are. But you can't act like a rabid dog, treating everyone like your enemy!"

She grabbed Doug's arm and dragged him toward the door, throwing one last threat over her shoulder. "Take my name and Doug's off the transfer list right now, or I'm filing the divorce papers tomorrow!"

I stared at the ruined drawing on the floor, my fingernails digging so hard into my palms they bled.

From the day my daughter died, I never wanted her back anyway.