My Big Fat Fake Wedding(100)

I can hear Courtney tapping on her phone, and I turn to look at her incredulously. Angrily, I demand, “I’m pouring my heart out over here and you’re working? You really are Dad’s daughter, aren’t you?”

She literally snaps her fingers at me, and despite myself, I freeze in shock at the rudeness. She gets up, walking around my desk to stand at my side, looming over me. “I am my father’s daughter, which means that when new information presents itself, I make adjustments accordingly. For the good of all involved. He’s not the monster you seem to think he is. I told you that he was pressuring you for your own good. Surely, you can see that in the last two weeks, even if it started as some scheme, you’ve changed in positive ways. You’re finally growing up and putting someone else’s wants and needs over your own, and that’s all Dad wanted for you. A future, a family. He didn’t want some fake convenience woman on your arm for a hot minute for appearances. He wants you to have what he has, a family he loves and takes pride in.”

Her words are sharp barbs, poisoned for maximum pain, because she’s right. So many times, I’ve butted heads with my father, thinking him old-fashioned or feeling like he was forcing me in directions I didn’t want to go. But maybe it’s because he was happy with that path, and since it’s all he knows, he’s guided me that way too.

“Maybe,” I concede.

“Progress,” she proclaims with the barest hint of a smile, but I’m unable to return it, which makes her lips fall again. “Look, I just want you to know that I love you, and whatever you’ve done, that doesn’t change. Especially knowing what I know now. You’re my big brother, and though I’m just your annoying little sister, I love you.”

“Thank you,” I mouth before finding my voice and repeating myself. “Thank you.”

Courtney holds her arms out in invitation, and I find the strength to stand up and hug her tightly. She hugs me back, and in her arms, I find the ability to release. The tears start slowly, and I never devolve into full on sobbing, but with each hot tear, Courtney hugs me tighter. For the first time in our lives, she’s the one supporting me and I’m the one needing strength and comfort.

It’s a short storm, a summer squall of the agony I’m in, but it helps. When I’m done, Courtney wipes her thumb under my eyes like Mom used to before standing on her tiptoes to kiss my forehead, again, just like Mom.

“Thanks. I think. Though let’s never discuss this again,” I say awkwardly. I sigh and straighten my spine, falling back into my comfortable role. “Can you do me a favor?”

“Anything.”

“Work with Kaede on the damage control letter. I’m going to talk with Dad.”

“You sure?” Courtney asks.

I nod, adjusting my tie a little. “Yeah. The sooner, the better. No use in prolonging this and letting others control my destiny. I did that for too long.”

I leave Courtney and Kaede and head upstairs to my father’s office. He’s here too, of course. Most of the senior management’s dealing with the PR fallout of yesterday’s insanity. They all want to be here, both for the good of the company and because everyone loves to see the prince taken down a notch. I can feel their watchful eyes—curious, amused, shocked, angry.

But yet, they work to minimize the impact, even if the majority of the responsibility is sitting on my shoulders, and everyone is waiting for Dad to decide what he’s going to do.

But professionally, I still don’t care. Yeah, I don’t want Kaede, or Courtney, or anyone in the company to be hurt or lose their jobs because of this, but as for me?

I don’t care. This corporation’s in good hands with Dad in charge, and if the future of this place doesn’t involve me . . . I can live with that. I don’t want it to come to that, but it’s not the most important thing in my life right now.

Violet is. She’s all I care about.

Dad’s sitting behind his desk when I walk in, his face still thundery. “Dad?”

“I assume Courtney found you?” Dad says, his voice so tight that I’m afraid he’ll snap a tooth if he bites his words off any harder.

“She did. I wanted to say I’m sorry.”

“So you’ve said. But sorry won’t cut it this time. Do you even realize what you’ve done?” he growls, slamming his hand to his desk as he rises to his feet, pacing about the room.

“I’ve got board members yelling about stock prices, which have dropped by eighteen percent in the last twenty-four hours. That’s people’s lives, Ross! Their life savings shot because of your shenanigans. The shareholders are bitching about morality clauses, demanding my own son’s dismissal from the company I started from nothing. I’ve got lawyers calling, police calling, and the media . . .” He shakes his head. “The fucking media! Showing that sniveling shit Radcliffe on the news first thing this morning. And it’s trending on social media too. Congrats, you’ve gone viral,” he says sarcastically.

“Dad—” I say, trying to get a word in edgewise, but he’s on a roll.

“What is it your mother calls them? Culture vultures? They smell blood in the water and they’re hunting like sharks, hunting you, Son. And what am I to do about it?”

“Nothing,” I say sharply. “Let me fix this. I’m the one who fucked up. Let me fix it. At least I can drown myself in work and be useful for something.”