by Claire Adams
I somehow got myself home and walked into my house. I needed to come up with strategies on how to tackle this, but right now all I could do was cry. I curled up on my couch as I thought about the first night we shared together. How electrifying it felt for his lips to hover over my forehead. I’d wanted to raise my head and connect it with his lips just to see how they felt against my skin, and I remembered the disappointment that flooded my veins when he pulled back and went upstairs.
My body hummed as I remembered what it was like to walk up those stairs. How terrified I was that he was going to reject me and send me crying from his room in nothing but my underwear. I reminisced on how I shed my clothes, leaving them in a trail across the carpet of his bedroom before I lifted the sheet and slid in beside him.
My body warmed at the mere thought of being next to him, and the waterworks started up as I cried myself to sleep.
Now, the sun was up, and I was standing in the mirror looking at myself. I saw the dark rings underneath my eyes and the redness of my irises. I felt how much my joints ached with guilt that continued to pound my body. It hurt to shower, and I styled my hair into a bun instead of taking the time to wash it. In these moments, dry shampoo was my friend, but I couldn’t even muster the strength to press the button on the top of the can.
I didn’t bother with makeup, nor did I bother with jewelry. I threw on the first things I could grab from my closet. I bit down on my bottom lip driving into work, trying to keep my crying at bay. I felt wholly exposed. I felt my emotions pouring from my cold, icy body. I felt years of being cooped up and years of being strong eroding from the very temple I’d considered my body to be.
I was spiraling down, and I could feel it.
I walked into the shop, and the woman behind the counter eyed me curiously. I headed toward the back to do inventory, pulling sheets of paper from the filing cabinet as I sighed. People would come in chattering and laughing, only to turn the corner and see me there before they stopped. Word must’ve gotten around as to what had happened with the company, because now the employees were giving me the cold shoulder.
And they had every right to.
I was petrified of going to the office. I waded through the inventory as I tried to haul boxes, grabbing at ways to keep my mind off things. I’d put myself into this situation because of my blinding rage, and I convinced myself that I deserved this. I deserved their looks and I deserved Christian’s absence. I deserved the guilt and the toll it was already taking on my body. It took me three hours to inventory the back before I had a running list of things I needed to order, and as I started back through the store, all the employees fell silent.
They watched me like I was doing the walk of shame out of my ex’s house, and I kept my head down until I felt my shoulder shove into the door. The bell rang, announcing my leave, and I heard the conversations start back up again.
“Did you hear what she did?”
“How could she do that?”
“Christian ran this place better than her father.”
“She’s selfish.”
“She’s grieving.”
“She’s a bitch.”
I allowed the tears to trickle down my face while I walked over to the office. I left my car parked in front of the store, half-expecting employees to key it in retaliation. I held the papers under my armpit while my hands swung at my sides, and the only thing I could think of was how I was going to approach Christian. I was going to use my toe to knock lightly on his door, then speak to him through it. I couldn’t expect him to open the door and face me, but at least he would be cornered enough to listen.
I’d tell him I didn’t want the company. I’d say I made a serious mistake because I was a grieving daughter and things had changed. He ran the business better than I ever could, and the employees adored him. I would tell him this was what he was born to do. Going forward, I would listen and take his instruction just like I did in the park.
I was going to tell him the lawyer blindsided me with this. That I didn’t give him the go-ahead, and he was the one that called me. His phone call was what made me so sick, and I was a coward for not telling him. I’d admit to him all my faults and get on my knees and beg for him to forgive me.
But, when I got to the office and saw that his door hadn’t even been unlocked, much less opened, I started to cry once more.
He didn’t even come into the office today.
I knew I’d ruined things with him. I walked into my office and placed the inventory sheets on the coffee table before I flopped down onto the couch. The room still smelled of him, his cologne from where he sat here last. I breathed him in, closing my eyes while my hands throbbed in my lap. I could feel them swelling to their breaking point, and part of me hoped they would just burst.
If they did, I wouldn’t be able to do shit with this company, and Christian would have no choice but to come back.
He was this company’s life support, and I would be its eventual downfall.
I was never going to get him back. I was never going to see him again. I’d fucked up so royally and so profoundly that I’d never be able to fix this. I wanted to scream and cry. To retreat and give up. I wanted to fight and claw my way back to how it was before. I wanted to do so many things at once, but all I had the energy to do was lay down on the couch and curl up like the scared little girl I really was inside.
Then, a knock came at my door.
“Miss Harte?”
Great. My fucking lawyer again.
“I thought I fired you,” I said.
“You did, but not before something came across my desk. Figured I’d hand you the information before I told the person on the phone that I was no longer in your employ,” he said.
“Just leave it on the coffee table along with the statement of your final bill. Your services will no longer be needed,” I said.
“Maybe you’ll reconsider when you see this,” he said.
“What is it?”
I sat up and looked at the papers he set on the desk. There were only two: a statement of intention and a notarized notice to appear in court.
“Mr. Gunn has hired a lawyer. To fight for the company, I assume. You are to appear in court next Friday,” he said.
“And you think I’m going to waltz into court with you at my side?” I asked.
“I was hoping you would come to your senses, yes,” he said.
“You can leave your final bill with me,” I said.
“Miss Harte, I really have to warn you.”
“If I have to hire a lawyer to fire you, I’m billing you for my time and the mess you’ve created. Leave me your final bill, then contact Christian’s lawyer and let them know you are no longer mine. Have him direct any calls his lawyer has to me,” I said.
“You can’t possibly go into court alone. He’ll take it all away from you,” he said.
“And that’s what he should do! This company is rightfully his!” I exclaimed. “Leave your bill, because if you walk out of here without doing it, you won’t see a cent.”
I watched as he pulled a piece of paper from his coat. I unraveled it and gawked at the amount of money I owed him, but I pulled out the company checkbook and cut him a check. I took photos of everything so he couldn’t rob me blind, then I shoved everything back at him.
“So I know you made the phone call, I’ll expect a confirmation call from Christian’s lawyer by the end of the day today. No confirmation call, no payment.”
“But, I’m holding your check,” he said.
“Which is post-dated for tomorrow. No phone call, I cancel it. And I’ll have no issues taking you to court as well,” I said.
“Fine,” he said, tucking everything into his coat, “I’ll make the phone call before I pull out of the parking lot.”
“Goodbye,” I said.
I shut the door in his face before I flopped back down onto the couch. I didn’t want the first time I saw Christian again to be in court. If he hired the right lawyer, I would
n’t even be able to address him. But, honestly? I missed him so much. I craved him at night. I called his phone just to hear the voicemail he’d shoot me to. I’d pretend he was talking to me and I’d close my eyes, imagining he was there wrapping his arms around me.
My tears dripped silently down my face while my entire body shook.
Seeing any part of him at this point would be worth it, even if he was ripping everything away from me. But, I didn’t care. He could have it. All of it. My father’s home, his stocks, his bank accounts, his company. The one thing I really wanted, the one thing that mattered to me, was gone.
And there was nothing I could do to get him back.
I needed someone to talk to. Anyone who would listen. I grabbed my purse and I headed for my car. My phone rang with a number I didn’t recognize, and I figured it was probably Christian’s lawyer, so I sent the caller to my voicemail inbox. I needed to go see Daisy, to talk with her and get her opinion.
I was no longer thinking clearly, but I knew she would.
“Hey there, Stella,” she said before her eyes studied my body.
“Oh my shit. What the hell did you do?” she asked.
My caring, beautiful best friend. With a heart of gold and the patience of a monk. I stared at her, not even knowing how to begin telling her what I’d done.
She would’ve never done this to someone she loved.
“Stella, if you don’t talk to me I’m taking you to see a doctor. You look like hell,” she said.
“I’ve ruined everything,” I said.
“Come sit down,” she said.
“I kept banging on his door, hoping he would open. I kept banging and banging and banging. I thought that if I knocked hard enough, he would just be there. That he would just answer the door. But he wasn’t there. He didn’t go home.”
“Greyson? Are you talking about Greyson?” she asked.
“I took the company from him, Daisy,” I said, whispering.
She paused, her hands cradling mine while her eyes searched my face.
“You were banging on Christian’s door?” she asked.
“He’s so angry, and he has every right to be. The company lawyer, he found a loophole. Unclaimed stocks or some bullshit my father didn’t allocate. It defaults everything to the courts until it can get settled, and the lawyer fought to have everything handed to me. I took the company from him, Daisy. Holy shit, I took it all from him.”
Tears poured down my face as she led us over to a bench, and I could feel her peeling back the bandages as I continued to talk.
“I didn’t mean to. In the beginning, that was all I could think about. Taking the company from someone who didn’t deserve it. But, he’s good at it, Daisy. Like he was born to it. Better than I ever thought he would be. And it’s all because I taught him, and he taught me, too. How to talk better to people when put on the spot. I’d never felt so alive than when I was in meetings with him. He’s nailed every one of them, too. Every meeting we’ve had since he took over. That’s his company, Daisy. My father did the right thing, and I didn't want the lawyer to go through with it anymore. But, he did. And Christian is out as a result. And now, he’s taking me to court to fight for the company because he loves it that much. It’s his company, Daisy! And he’s fighting for it! Do you know what this means?”
“What does it mean, sweetheart?” she asked.
“It means my father was right. He was the better choice to run the company. We work better as a team, side by side. At the very least, he would run it better than I ever could. I don’t want to take the company from him anymore. But, I can’t fix it. I don’t know how to fix it, Daisy. What do I do?” I asked.
“Stella, I don’t know. I don’t know how in the world you can fix something like this except to appear in court. Maybe if you go without a lawyer or something, that might show that you’re serious about giving him the company back, but that also leaves you vulnerable to him ripping everything from you,” she said.
“He can have it,” I said, whispering. “I only want him.”
“Then, I don’t know what to tell you,” she said, shrugging. “I don’t even know what I’d do. Have you eaten?”
“I will later,” I said.
“You will now, and I’m coming with you. Do you still go to that place all the way across town?” she asked. “The restaurant with the really good chocolate pie?”
“You don’t have to take me to eat.”
“If I don’t take you, you won’t go. We’re overstaffed today, so they’ll be fine. Go get in my car.”
“Daisy.”
“Now, Stella,” she said.
And as I walked to her car and hunkered down into the passenger’s seat, I pulled down the mirror in the car and really took a look at myself. I did look bad, and I was honestly shocked I had the energy to even make it to Daisy. My stomach was growling endlessly and my eyes looked glazed over. This was just what I needed. To look like a fucking wreck in court.
I wondered if Christian would even care.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Christian
(One week later)
The courtroom felt ominous. I had gone shopping and picked out a new suit, navy blue with white pinstripes, because the other two suits I had reminded me of Stella. I paired it with a crisp white shirt and a navy tie, then special-ordered a pair of patent leather shoes in the same navy as my suit. If I was going to appear in court and fight for this job, I was going to be presentable while doing it. I felt like I had lost my home, everything I had sunk my teeth into, and I wasn’t letting go of it easily.
I heard the double doors of the courtroom open, and I turned around to see Stella walking in. My jaw dropped when I looked at her. She appeared surprisingly haggard. Her sunken-in eyes with their dark circles contrasted against her milky white cheeks that were devoid of any rosiness whatsoever. As my eyes drifted around her presence, they stopped at her side.
She didn’t even have a lawyer with her.
It wasn’t until my lawyer jostled me that I could rip my eyes from her. I wanted to know what was going on with Stella. I wanted to know why she wasn’t taking care of herself. I wanted to wrap my arms around her and protect her. To breathe life back into her and tell her it was going to be alright.
Because she did not look alright.
“Miss Harte, are you well enough to have this proceeding?” the judge asked.
And all she did was nod.
“Mr. Gunn, you will have a chance to say your piece about the company,” the judge said.
“Thank you, Your Honor,” I said, standing up. “First of all, thank you for allowing us all to be here today.”
“Get on with it, Mr. Gunn,” the judge said.
“Your Honor, I understand the state of California has laws. Estate laws regarding how property should be allocated and how all property should be allocated before the estate is settled. It has also been explained to me that, while I was family, I was not blood-related, so the estate of my stepfather cannot fall to me because our DNAs don’t match.”
“You are correct,” the judge said.
“What you must understand, Your Honor, is that Charles Harte, my stepfather, was the only father I knew. He raised me from the time I was a small child. He took my mother in, loved both of us in the greatest capacity he knew, and never once called me anything to anyone except ‘his son.’ It didn’t matter to him that he wasn’t my biological father. In his eyes, I was his and solely his.”
I felt the courtroom’s eyes on me, and I couldn’t help but cast my gaze over to Stella. I wanted to see what she was doing. Was she listening? Would she even look at me?
I saw her staring at the judge intently, but whether she was listening to me or not, I couldn’t tell.
I had to take a deep breath to keep my emotions at bay.
“I have been informed that there is a 10 percent stake in the company stock-wise in Charles Harte’s name that has not been allocated to anyone. I would like to challenge
that,” I said.
“With what?” the judge asked.
“When I was going through some of my stepfather’s things, I came across a file of old papers. Papers from when he first started the company. In it, there is a basic allocation of stock from the company’s initial public offering, when their stocks first hit the public to be purchased and allocated accordingly. In it, there is a 10 percent chunk of stock underneath Charles Harte’s name. But, it is specified for a purpose.”
“Let me see the piece of paper,” the judge said.
My lawyer walked up to him and handed him the document in question, signed and notarized for our court date.
“The 10 percent chunk of stock is not designated for Charles Harte, Your Honor. It was taken out in his name so he could control whether or not somebody purchased it, but look at the purpose for the stock.”
I watched the judge scan the papers before his eyes settled on the line in question, and I could see a grin beginning to form on his lips. I looked over at Stella, whose eyes were cast down in her lap.
It was like she wasn’t even trying.
“That stock was purchased for the sole purpose of charity. The stock is sitting in a portfolio somewhere, waiting to be cashed in for his charities, Your Honor. That stock is not for Charles Harte; it is only controlled by him. However, one could argue that it’s technically controlled by the company, since it wasn’t for my stepfather’s personal use. With that argument, his estate becomes settled, because that type of stock would obviously default to blood-related family to manage just like the rest of his financial estate has been. So, I am here to argue that the company be reinstated back within my control, as per Charles Harte’s last will and testament.”
I saw the judge look over the piece of paper at me with a sly grin on his face. His eyes began to crinkle, and his nose started to turn red, and I heard Stella let out a long, heavy sigh. It was like someone was clued into a secret I hadn’t figured out yet, and I was growing a bit weary of the situation.
