–Travis: I need a contract!
–Me: Offer, consideration and acceptance is sufficiently binding. Ask your lawyer.
–Grandfather: Sebastian’s correct, Travis. Is that all you need? Our support for Lucienne Peery tomorrow?
–Me: Not just tomorrow, but as long as she needs.
–Mom: And the trust funds will be back under our control.
Mom’s eyes are always on what’s most important to her, but that makes her easy to manage.
–Me: Yes. But you won’t be able to direct anything to Preston. That I cannot allow.
–Mom: Why do you hate him so much?
–Me: It’ll be better for him to learn how the real world works. Otherwise, he’ll squander all his money and be left destitute. Remember—you needed me to run Sebastian Jewelry regardless of who owned it. You know Preston doesn’t have what it takes, and it’s mainly because he was never personally accountable for anything.
I wait a beat. Mom loves Preston, but she loves herself more. She won’t hesitate for long when I’ve provided the perfect excuse.
–Mom: Very well. I accept.
–Grandmother: I suppose it’s time Preston grew up.
–Grandfather: He’s a smart boy. He’ll learn.
Good.But there’s still one holdout.
–Me: Travis?
–Travis: Sometimes fathers have to make difficult choices for their children.
I snort. He’s just happy he doesn’t have to beg me for money. He knows I’m not a fan.
I drive through the brightly lit streets, drumming my fingers on the steering wheel.Should I tell Luce what I’ve done, so she can be prepared?But I can’t be sure if she’s really going to lose her CEO seat. I ran some simulations. If at least sixty-two percent of the unknowns side with her—or abstain—she can stay as the CEO, especially with me and my Comtois family voting to support her.
But sixty-two percent is a lot. Roderick’s already done his work, turning many against her. Just because they didn’t overtly say anything doesn’t mean they’re going to be on her side.
Anxiety winds around my heart like poison ivy. The hold only tightens as I park my car and step inside the huge mansion. The light’s on in the living room. It was supposed to be a temporary residence until our marriage ended. But now, it feels like home.
Luce is sitting cross-legged on a couch, reviewing something on her tablet. She looks impossibly young and cute in a white T-shirt and yellow shorts, her feet bare and her hair twisted into a topknot skewered by a pen. In front of her on the coffee table is the purple and white bouquet I sent to her office. She put it in a vase.
“Hey,” she says with a smile.
“Hi.” I bend and kiss her. I search her face for signs of tears or grief. There’s nothing except a smile, but that doesn’t mean anything. I’ve seen her mask before. I wish she would trust me enough to let her shields down.
She might never do that after tomorrow.
No. I did everything I could to fix it. It will go fine. It has to.
“Everything go okay at work?” I ask.
“As okay as could be expected. Bianca’s gone.” She sighs. “Apparently, I was only being nice to her to make myself feel good.”
“That’s absurd.”
“Everything I did made her feel small, and there’s nothing I can do about her feelings. So.” A corner of her lips quirks up in a lopsided smile. “Guess that’s how things go.”
“She never deserved you.”
