My boss scheduled a mandatory video call for 7 a.m. Everyone logged in—cameras on, mics off—just like always.

But he didn’t show up.

We waited 20 minutes in confused silence until HR finally ended the call. An hour later, a company-wide email landed in our inboxes: He’d died in his sleep the night before.

At first, I assumed it was just a glitch—maybe the meeting invite had been scheduled earlier and just auto-sent. But something kept nagging at me.

I double-checked the calendar.

The invite was sent at 9:12 a.m.
That same morning.
Over two hours after he was already confirmed dead.

And the subject line?
“Please be on time.”

I immediately contacted the IT department. They brushed it off, said maybe his account was hacked or a system glitch triggered a draft. But I’ve worked in IT. That’s not how our system works. Calendar invites don’t self-generate.

That message—it was written and sent after he died.

I tried to forget about it. But then something even more disturbing happened.

We had recently hired a new nanny. A quiet 24-year-old woman. My 7-year-old son took to her immediately. It was odd—he was usually shy, but with her, it was like he’d known her forever.

He cried when she was off. Refused to eat. Threw tantrums until she came back.

Yesterday, he told me something that stopped me cold. I was tucking him into bed when he whispered, “Dad… did you know Mr. Harrison [our boss] is still around? I saw him upstairs. He was talking to Emily.” (That’s the nanny.)

I froze.

I didn’t say anything. Just smiled and kissed him goodnight.

But I haven’t slept since.