He drummed his fingers anxiously on the steering wheel. “I almost wrote a letter to Santa like I was eight again, asking for him to drop dead.”
I laughed despite myself. “That’s festive.”
“It would’ve been a beautiful Christmas miracle. The board would have to put you in as CEO and all would be right with the world.”
“That’s dark.”
He scoffed. “It’s also true.”
I didn’t say what I felt, which was the same as him. I had that same hollow ache every morning when I woke up, the same twist in my ribs that told me everything that had happened in the last five years was just so fucking wrong.
But I swallowed it all down because protecting Colin was more important than voicing my own fears. Out of all five of my brothers, I was closest with Colin. We were only three years apart, and although he would never admit it, I knew he looked up to me.
All my brothers did, unfortunately. I hated it. Because it meant I couldn’t fall apart. I couldn’t scream or rage right along with them. I always had to keep it together. Growing up, while our parents had been busy with parties, money, and life in general, I’d had to step up.
It had often just been us when Dad had stayed at the office and Mom had been off in Manhattan, partying or attending some event for a foundation. I’d been damn proud when Colin had made CFO, but I knew he didn’t feel ready, even now, after a year in the role, and it had been a shitty year at that.
The fourth quarter had ended up being a killer in a bad way and Colin was taking the heat for it. As COO, I was responsible for keeping production and internal operations up to par, but that was easy compared to dealing with the investors now breathing down Colin’s neck.
So I lied. He didn’t need any more stress than he already had. “He just needs to find his footing. Andrew isn’t malicious. He’s just overwhelmed.”
I couldn’t tell Colin that I saw our uncle’s ambition gleam like a blade, aimed right at everything our father had built. Instead, I dug deep into the part of myself that had spent years twisting logic into politeness and anger into diplomacy.
“I honestly understand why the board didn’t vote me in.” My voice was steady, but I’d practiced this speech. “I’m young. I didn’t work for the company until recently. I spent my twenties in school. Slaving away. Sitting in lectures where I was the only woman and they called me ‘Legally Blonde.’ Everyone thought it was hilarious.”
Colin glanced at me, his jaw tightening, but I continued before he could interrupt.
“And I still graduated at the top of my class,” I said, grinning like a porcelain doll to hide all the cracks. “I thought that meant I could take over Thayer Steelworks, but Andrew made a better impression with the board.”
I didn’t look at Colin when I said it. If I did, I’d crumble, so I just winked in his direction. “Board shorts, flip flops, beer-stained Hawaiian shirt and all.”
Colin shook his head hard, staring out at the snowy road ahead like he wanted to drive straight through the storm and throttle our uncle with his bare hands. He didn’t say anything, but the silence radiated off him in thick waves, filling the car and frosting the windows.
I understood it, though. Andrew had spent his entire adult life, well into his sixties, on the beach in the Bahamas after barely graduating high school. The head of the table was the last place he should’ve been.
We turned down the long, winding drive toward the Westwood mansion, and even though I tried not to react, a familiar—recently familiar—heat crept into my cheeks. I forced myself to keep breathing normally, ignoring the way the sight of those stone pillars made my stomach dip.
The car crunched over fresh snow as we pulled up, and suddenly, a butler wearing an impeccable suit was rushing out to greet us. Doors were opened with practiced precision, our coats whisked away like our family wasn’t clinging to life support behind the scenes socially.
I’d gone to dinners before, meetings, and the occasional gala. Every once in a while, I would sit with the owners of the plants or shake hands with dignitaries, but I’d never dived this deep into Chicago’s wealthy social circles.
Not like this. Not inside one of the most powerful families’ private home.
Sure, I knew about the Westwoods. Who didn’t? They practically ran half the city, especially now that their young CEO had taken over shortly after I’d stepped into my role as COO. He was making all kinds of moves to expand the Westwood and Sons’ name into other industries.
Once we’d been swept into their ball-room-sized foyer, Zachary Westwood stepped forward to greet us with a bright smile, twinkling green eyes, and effortless confidence, his blondhair shining like the angels themselves were smiling down on him.
“Colin. Mrs. Thayer,” he said, sounding genuinely happy to see us. “You must be Jane.” He took my mother’s coat with perfect manners. “Welcome to our home.”
Home. Right.
Their familyhomelooked like a museum and a cathedral had procreated and birthed this place. Everything gleamed, smelling faintly of cedar and wealth when he led us further inside.
Colin had pitched this as a friendly dinner, unrelated to business, but the second I caught the glint in Zach’s eyes, that hungry, calculating gleam, I knew that was bullshit.
He smelled blood and my family had been dead in that water for years, but I still followed behind Colin and my mom as Zachary led us through the lowest level of the house. Honestly, I was curious about what Colin and his friend had cooked up.
It was warm and candlelit in here, with shadows dancing along the stone walls. The storm outside made the glow feel almost romantic, like we’d stepped into a place where powerful families plotted futures over crystal glasses and imported wine.
