My uncle’s warning resurfaces.Better answer the next time he calls.
Slipping out from beneath Violet, I step into the hallway and answer the phone. “You do know what time it is, don’t you?”
“For you? No,” my dad replies. “And I don’t really care.”
“So thoughtful,” I mumble. Pulling the phone from my ear, I check the time. “It’s four thirty in the morning, by the way. In case you’re curious.”
“Already told you I wasn’t. Hong Kong’s beautiful this time of year. I’d say you should plan a visit, but at this point, I don’t feel like paying for it.”
What a dick.
“You stopped paying for our things a long time ago,” I remind him.
“Around the same time you stopped listening.”
His words feel like a cheese grater against my ear drums. I’m really starting to regret listening to Uncle Judge and answering this stupid phone call. “Can I help you with anything, Father?” I can’t help the derision tainting the familial title, though he doesn’t comment on it. Hell, maybe he’s so used to it, the word would sound weird without the derision. Or maybe not. Honestly, I’m too tired to care.
“Am I not allowed to check in on my oldest?” my father counters.
For a guy who’s an incredible liar—it’s literally how he makes every single dime—the lack of sincerity in his voice is almost disappointing. Rubbing at the corner of my eye, I point out, “Not when you’ve neglected me for years.”
“So ungrateful,” he mutters under his breath. “How are your classes?”
“Fine.”
“How’s your sister?”
“Fine.”
“And your brothers?”
“Also fine.”
“And working with Donahue?”
Feeling like a broken record, I repeat, “Also fine. Anything else, or can I go back to bed?”
“Have you asked him about writing a recommendation for your internship?” he prods. “Mercer Consulting doesn’t take anyone off the street.”
Mercer Consulting. Even after all these years, I don’t miss the slight undertone of resentment as the business’s name rolls off his tongue. Talk about a small but poetic morsel of justice. My dad begged my mom to found the company under his name, Harden, telling her there was no use using her maiden name when they’d be married one day. Thankfully, she stuck to her guns and titled the company Mercer Consulting anyway.
Mercer Consulting was my mom’s brainchild from the very beginning. She wanted to create an actuarial firm that wasn’t all about profits but about people. Then, she met Dad in college and brought him on after graduation. Outside of marrying the bastard, it was her biggest mistake.
If it wasn’t for my mom’s legacy, there’s no way I would even consider working there. Trouble is, she founded the business, and my brothers and I refuse to let Titas Harden ruin it forever. It might take a while to undo everything he’s done, but if we don’t work there, we never will.
“Not sure why a letter is needed,” I mutter. “You’re the head of the board, after all.”
He’s also been pushing us since before we could walk to follow the family legacy, but I keep that part to myself.
His low chuckle grates on me. “And you say you don’t use the family name to get what you want.”
I bite my tongue to keep from pointing out how it must be genetic, considering he insisted on moving back to Harden Heights as a way to soothe his ego from the sting of the company not carrying his precious name. My dad might not have foundedHarden Heights, but his great-grandparents did, and he’s had no issue riding on their coattails for his entire existence. Yeah, he’s definitely one to talk about using his family name to get what he wants.
“Donahue already sent his recommendation via email,” I announce. “Maybe ask your secretary to check it when she isn’t sucking your dick before you call me next time.”
It’s a low blow, but I don’t regret it. Even when Mom was alive, Titas was known for dabbling in the office roster on late nights. It didn’t come out until after she passed, but it happened nonetheless.
I hate him.
