The Other Side of Greed

by Lily Zante

  Speaking of getting back to normal. “He won’t be back,” I announce. They stare at me dumbfounded. “Brad. He’s not coming back.”

  “You mean Brandon,” Fredrich clarifies.

  “Whatever.” I don’t want to spend another moment thinking about that man. Not a second.

  “I don’t understand why—” Simona starts to speak, but falls silent. As it was with me, I now see the cogs of her brain trying to make sense of everything. Of why a billionaire’s son would ever consider joining a company like Redhill, on the pretense of working for free to do some good.

  The way she’s looking at me, I can tell that she has questions, but thankfully, she won’t ask me, which is just as well.

  I suck in a deep breath. “I don’t want to talk about what happened. I don’t want to dwell on it. Brad’s gone, and that’s the end of it.”

  * * *

  BRANDON

  * * *

  “She never wants to see me again.”

  Emma lets out a slow breath. She’s walking around on crutches, listening to me tell my story of woe.

  “I told you it wouldn’t end well.”

  Yeah. She did. She never approved of any of this. She warned me, but I blazed on ahead the way I do when I have set my sights on something.

  But it’s not sympathy I want, or I-told-you-sos. It’s the need to let it off my chest and to tell someone, so I’m at Emma’s place. Kyra refuses to answer my calls or texts. She asked to be left alone, and as much as it pains me to do that, it will make her hate me even more if I don’t comply.

  What I did was wrong and dishonest. I didn’t cheat on her, but I shouldn’t, in all honesty, expect her to forgive and forget.

  Without Emma in my professional life, and no Kyra in my life at all, I’ve reached a low point, someplace I never thought I would be. It’s not hunger that is slowly killing me, it’s not neglect, it’s losing someone I had finally come to care about.

  That’s what’s killing me.

  “What will it take to have you come back to work for me? You can pick your hours. You can pick your salary. You can work as few or as many days as you want but I need you back, Emma, whenever you’re good and ready.”

  Her eyes tell me all I need to know. “I don’t want to come back, Brandon.”

  “I’m a changed man,” I throw back, in case my morals are the things that are keeping her at bay. “I’m not going to be doing any more of that stuff. No more stepping over people in the name of making more money.”

  “You’ve finally realized that you have enough?” She stops walking around, her hands on her crutches as she waits for my answer.

  “I’ve learned a lot. I have plans going forward.”

  She groans, before slowly settling herself down into a chair. I rush over, but she shakes her head. “I’ve got this.” When she has sat down, she leans the crutches against the armrest. “Plans? I don’t have the stomach to hear your plans, Brandon.”

  “They’re good plans. Things you’ll be pleased about.”

  “I’ve been making plans, too,” she announces.

  “Oh?”

  I can see it in her eyes. Her mind is made up and I’ll never be able to convince her. She’s not coming back. She’s leaving me to fend for myself. I’ll get by. If not with this temporary PA, then with another one, and another one, and another one, until I find someone like Emma.

  It wasn’t just for her professional skills, but her sense of right and wrong and also her common sense. She grounded me, and that’s what I will miss.

  Like I miss Kyra. She started to heal the hole in my heart—the one that leaving Kane left behind.

  It’s not too late.

  I can fix things. I can find Kane. And I can win Kyra back.

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  KYRA

  * * *

  The food night is yet another reminder of Brad. No, Brandon. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to that name.

  It hasn’t been easy. To forget him, or to forget what he did. I question everything I said and everything he told me and everything I believed. I question my weekend with him and I’m left wondering if I will ever trust a man completely again.

  Trust is a huge issue for me, and Brad has smashed it into a million pieces.

  We’ve missed the extra help, especially on food nights, but it’s help we don’t want, I tell myself. True to their word, neither Fredrich or Simona have mentioned him. But Stefan did. He asked where ‘that guy’ was. I told him that he had left.

  The evening passes smoothly enough. I see that we are running low on some of the food items. Fredrich is slacking today. Usually, he’d be the first one to make sure everything was replenished. I look around but can’t find him.

  Walking back to the van to fetch the replacement containers, I see him. Talking to Brad.

  Fury rises like a poisonous gas.

  Why is he here? I told him to stay away. I asked him to do that one thing for me.

  “Hey, look who showed up.” Fredrich’s tone tells me he’s oblivious to everything. He’s lacking a woman’s instinct to pick up on things.

  “We’re out of pasta.” I open the doors and start to look around for more containers of pasta. Behind me, I hear the two men whispering. Just as I’m about to turn around and glare at them, Fredrich taps me on the shoulder and announces that he will take over. “Brandon wants to talk to you.”

  The speed with which he’s able to use a different name shocks me. “I don’t want to talk to him.”

  “Just give the guy a chance,” he pleads and picks up a food container, then leaves. I stare at Brandon defiantly, hating that he came here in a public space, where he knew I wouldn’t be able to voice my hatred of him.

  “I told you to stay away from me.”

  “You told me to stay away from Redhill.”

  Smart-ass. I want to slap that look of smug satisfaction off his face. My teeth clench together so tightly, I’m in danger of locking my jaw. I hate that he is here, in my face, staring at me as if he cares about me. That puppy dog look on his face doesn’t fool me. What I see before me is the same cocky, arrogant guy who strolled in here on that first day, asking for a job.

  “I’ve got nothing to say to you. Nothing. Oh, except this: You will never own so much as an inch of Greenways. We’ll fight you. You can buy the best attorneys and have as many corrupt officials in your pocket as you see fit, but we’ll stand up to you at every turn.”

  “I don’t want it, Kyra. I don’t want anything, but you.”

  A scream from the tables catches both our attention, and I run. But the smell of smoke in the air sends shivers up my spine. I look around frantically. Flames spiral out from the bottom of the factory floor.

  “The factory’s on fire!” I scream, running towards it.

  “Noooooooooooooo!” Fredrich’s voice behind me starts a chorus of people screaming and shouting. Cries of “Call the fire department!” chase me all the way to the factory.

  Heat rolls up and through the air, making it harder to breathe.

  A fire in the factory?

  Our products. The supplies.

  Our people. The blood in my veins freezes. Surely there’s no one in there now? And then I remember Dayna. She usually works late. “Is anyone in there?” I scream, rushing towards the main door, my mind a riot of confusion.

  “My kids!” Yvette’s piercing scream cuts through the air and sears into my chest.

  “What?” I yell. “Your kids are in there?”

  She’s a blubbering, stuttering mess. Shivering and shaking, she can’t even get her words out. People have gathered around, a group of them, poised to go in, but the flames are licking out of the ground floor. “My kids!” Yvette cries, screaming again.

  Simona’s face wears a haunted look. “Someone said they went to the storeroom to fetch water bottles.”

  “Both of them?” Brad yells. Incredulity stretches across his features.

  “Stefan and Holly, they went in tog
ether,” someone else confirms.

  In the heat and confusion of the moment, people are bringing blankets and pouring water onto the flames, as if that might help. We can’t get to the fire extinguishers inside because we can’t get into the building. Flames fan and lick around the entrance.

  Yvette screams, and people panic and yell. Commotion fills the air with chaos. I throw a blanket around myself and rush towards the door, determined to get to the children. But someone pulls me back hard and pushes me into the crowd. Before I can say anything, Brad disappears in front of me, through the flames.

  Chapter Fifty

  BRANDON

  * * *

  My arm hurts. I can’t lift it. Everything hurts. My back and sides feel numb. But I can move my toes. At least it’s something. It must mean that I’m not dead.

  “You were injured in the fire. You have first, second and third degrees burns, and you’re suffering the effects of smoke inhalation.”

  Something fell on it, something heavy. I didn't even feel the heat inside that furnace. Smoke, the smell, couldn't breathe, couldn't see, but I knew the kids were in there and I wasn’t going to let them down.

  I wasn’t going to let them die.

  They were crouched on the floor, at the far wall. I screamed out to them, realized that fear had paralyzed them. That’s when I scooped the boy up in my arms and was trying to put the girl’s arm around my waist so that I could somehow drag her out. That’s when Fredrich showed up, and grabbed her.

  I remember the desperate urge to survive. To make it out with all of us. We forced our way through the thick wall of smoke, coughing, struggling to breathe, my arm on fire. And then I made it out and collapsed onto a heap on the ground.

  I now look around the large clinical looking room and see a doctor looking at her clipboard. “I want to go home,” I announce.

  “You're suffering from the effects of smoke inhalation, and you have third degree burns on your shoulder, sir. You’re not going anywhere.”

  “I'm not staying here.” I wince as I try to sit up. A sharp pain shoots through my shoulder. My whole body hurts, but the pain in my shoulder is as if someone has hacked a machete through it. Still, I am not staying here. “No.” I pant through the pain, while attempting to turn enough to put my feet on the floor.

  “What do you think you're doing?” Kyra stands with a look of displeasure on her face. She has a bottle of water in one hand, and a backpack. “Is he being difficult again, Doctor?”

  “I hope you'll have better luck in persuading him. He can’t go home. He’s at an increased risk of infection and he needs to be under observation.”

  Kyra lifts the bottle to her lips and takes a gulp before screwing the lid on. “Don’t worry. He's not going anywhere.”

  The energy I've been trying to summon in order to turn my body, dissipates. Kyra's stern gaze has torpedoed that idea out of my head.

  That’s settled then.

  I'm not going anywhere. Kyra sets her backpack down, pulls a chair over from the other side of the room, so that it's facing me, then sits down.

  “Leave him to me, Doctor. He'll comply fully.”

  Kyra sits down.

  She's staying?

  “What are you doing?” Just to clarify the situation before I raise my hopes Mount Everest high.

  “Keeping an eye on you.”

  My hopes start to rise slowly.

  'Oh?' is the question I want to ask. Does this mean something? That she has forgiven me? And then I remember. “The children. How are the children?”

  “They’re fine. No burns, or injuries, just smoke inhalation. You saved them. You and Fredrich saved their lives.”

  I sink back against the bed, then cry out in pain because my shoulder touching the pillow hurts like hell. Kyra's up in a flash.

  “What is it? Shall I get the doctor?”

  I close my eyes and wimp out. I wish I was brave and could face her, but I have never experienced pain like this before. I breathe through it. Maybe the doctor was right. I can't go home tonight.

  “Brad.” She whispers. My eyelids slowly open. It's the sweetest sound I've heard in a while. Her saying my name like that, without anger. Without snarling. “I suppose I should call you Brandon, but it will take some getting used to.”

  She can call me what she wants, as long as she talks to me. I want to think that we are back to normal again but I dare not ask for fear of getting shot down.

  “It's just my shoulder. It really hurts.”

  “The doctor thinks you might need skin grafts.”

  I vaguely remember him explaining something to me, but my mind has been dazed.

  “He won't know for a few weeks,” she explains.

  “I don't care about the skin grafts. I just care that we saved those children.”

  Her smile is so deep, it leaps out of her eyes. “You did good, Brad, Brandon.” She goes to touch my arm, then pulls it away. “I don't even know where I can touch you.”

  “Do you want to?” I turn my head towards her.

  Her throat moves, as if she's swallowing, trying to compose herself. “What you did was heroic.”

  “Anyone would have done that.”

  “Not anyone. Not many did. Fredrich went in but only after you did.”

  My mind pulls out a memory. “You were about to go in there.”

  “But you pushed me out of the way and dove in.”

  “I was being selfish. I didn't want you to get hurt or die.”

  “Stop making it less heroic. You were brave. It takes guts to go into a building on fire.”

  “Guts, or stupidity.” I wince as the pain comes back. My shoulder feels as if its burning, and it pulsates in pain. I need more painkillers but I'm too scared to fall asleep now while I have Kyra here, talking to me, like this.

  We look at one another, questions floating in the empty space between us. The answers will come later, but there is a softness in her eyes that wasn't there before.

  “I need to tell you something,” I say, my heart beginning to thump. Telling the truth is hard but the lies, they come easily—at least they do to a man like me.

  “Don’t talk now. Just rest.”

  “But I need to tell you.” I want to tell her about Kane, my younger brother, and how we were separated when I was adopted. I want to tell her how the guilt of leaving him, and never looking for him, has haunted me ever since.

  I want to tell her that I want to help her company.

  But the pain comes again, and I squeeze my eyes shut. When I open them again, a nurse is standing beside Kyra.

  “You should try to get some rest,” the nurse tells me.

  “I'm not going anywhere,” Kyra adds, moving her chair away so that the nurse can get better access to me.

  “Promise?” I take the pills the nurse offers me.

  “I promise.”

  The nurse leaves us.

  “I have so many things I want to—”

  “Not now, Brad … Brandon.” She opens up her laptop. “Get some rest. We can talk later.”

  “I had a brother ...I have a brother.”

  She blinks, her mouth falls open. “Where is he?”

  “I don’t know.”

  She blinks again.

  “Kane. My brother Kane,” I say.

  Confusion makes lines criss-cross on her forehead. “But I thought you said ...”

  No sibling. That's what I told her. Because the lies, always the lies, they come to me so easily.

  “I abandoned him.” A pain shoots through me. It's not my shoulder this time, but the recall of the past. “I gave up on him and forgot all about him. That’s why I have no idea where he is or what happened to him.”

  “Brandon.” The word falls from her lips like a dying petal from flower.

  “I hate myself for it.” I wince and inhale a breath. It hurts. Everything hurts. It hurts all over. “I—I …” The words, the truth of what I have done, that doesn’t come as easily.

  �
��Don't talk, rest. We have all the time in the world to talk and you can tell me later, Brandon. I'm not going anywhere, but first you must rest and get better.”

  She’s not going anywhere, and because it’s Kyra, I know she’s not lying. Her word means something.

  I can rest now; now that she is here, but every time I close my eyes the doubt rises like a threatening cobra. I can’t help but remember Neville’s words, and the off the cuff remark he made about setting the factory on fire. That greedy son of a bitch didn't like what I said about not going ahead with my plans for Greenways. I wouldn’t put it past him to do something like that. I stopped him from tampering with Kyra's books. He hates her. I know what desperate men do for money and how greed corrupts. I was one of those men once.

  He blames her for me giving up on this. Because he stands to lose a lot of money. Setting fire to the factory would be a way of hurting Kyra, her business, and ultimately me.

  Son of a bitch.

  Chapter Fifty-One

  KYRA

  * * *

  “Philip Hawks saved me from one nightmare only to plunge me into another. I never looked for Kane after that.” Brandon recounts what his adoptive father said to him when he had dared to ask when they could go and get Kane.

  My heart has broken into pieces listening to Brandon’s story. He tells me slowly, in little snippets, as if he can only deal with small fragments of it at a time. I don’t push him, but listen.

  “I let my brother down.”

  “You didn’t. None of it was your fault. Your father is a billionaire, but a cruel one.” I don’t want to judge, but I don’t understand why a rich man couldn’t adopt Brandon and his brother.

  “He only wanted to replace the son he’d lost.”

  Philip Hawks isn’t just cruel, he sounds almost psychotic. No wonder Brandon grew up the way he did, thinking that money was the answer to everything. I can’t find the right words to say.

  “I was the older brother,” he says, “I’d always protected him, but then I was shown a better life, and I forgot all about him.”