by A. E. Radley
“But, how? How can he afford to do that?” Olivia furrowed her brow, unable to grasp what was happening. Her business, her father’s business, was unravelling at the seams. Everything she’d worked so hard for was being taken away.
She started to replay previous conversations with Marcus in chronological order—always her go-to response when something went wrong. When you had a knack for saying the wrong thing, you quickly learnt to analyse interactions to see if the root of the problem could be found.
But she found she couldn’t accurately recall what had been said. Confusion, hurt, and loss clouded her memory as she struggled to comprehend what was happening. Her first thought had been that Simon was mistaken. What he was telling her was simply unthinkable. It wasn’t long before it became clear that it wasn’t a mistake or a joke.
“I don’t know,” Simon admitted. “But clients are leaving in droves. And resignations in the London and New York offices are flying in quicker than Human Resources can process the paperwork. Some people just haven’t shown up. Those who are handing in notice, I made the decision to ban them from the office and remove their access.”
“Good.” She nodded. “He’s always been gunning for me.”
“I didn’t want to tell you yesterday; you were too out of it,” Simon repeated.
She looked at him. The remorse in his eyes was unmistakable, even to her. Taking his hand, she gave it a gentle squeeze. “You did the right thing. Who knows what mess I’d have made of things yesterday.”
Simon breathed a sigh of relief.
“But today’s a new day. And we need to take stock. I want a list of accounts, worldwide. We need to see who has left, who may leave, and who we can rely on. And staff; I need to know who’s gone, who’s working notice, and who’s staying.”
“And who can be trusted,” he added.
“But…”
“It’s dog eat dog now, Olivia. I know you hate office politics, but we have to assume that there are people in the office who will send sensitive information out to their former colleagues.”
“You’re right.” She sounded beaten. She felt beaten. When was enough, enough? Emily, Henry, the plane crash, and now this. What next? She shook off the maudlin thoughts and focused again on what needed to be done. You can’t fix a problem by lamenting over it. “We need to have an accurate picture of events.”
“It’ll be okay.” He didn’t sound certain.
“We’ll see,” she replied distantly.
CHAPTER 11
Emily looked at her watch and tapped her foot impatiently. When she’d left her job at Crown, she’d hoped, and assumed, that her days of serving beverages were behind her. But standing in a long line at the local coffee shop with a list of the company director’s requests proved that was not to be the case.
She’d been in her new job for a week, and, on the whole, it had been positive. Crown had called her the evening after she’d started to tell her that her services were no longer required. Normally such news would have devastated her, but all Emily could feel was relief that she had swallowed her pride and taken the position Seb had helped to set up.
The job wasn’t exactly demanding. Answering phones, fetching files, getting drink orders, and so on. Nothing that she couldn’t do in her sleep. The pay was better, the benefits were great, and the working hours were amazing. Finally, she was working a nine-to-five job in the city, where she could be home within an hour.
Usually, that would have meant spending more time with Henry. But, as soon as Emily had started working, Seb and Irene had pounced.
Just two days after starting the job, she saw Seb in the office, chatting with Marcus as if they were best friends. Before leaving, Seb had stood in front of Emily’s desk and requested that he be allowed to come see Henry the next day. She’d wanted to decline, but Seb had made it impossible by asking in front of Marcus. Knowing that her employment was somewhat dependent on Sebastian Brennan’s satisfaction, she’d decided not to rock the boat just yet. With Marcus watching her, she’d begrudgingly invited Seb and Irene to dinner the following evening to meet Henry.
As expected, Henry hadn’t taken to them at all. Emily had attempted to claim that it was simply a matter of a lot of changes in a short space of time. But of course, she knew that wasn’t true. If Henry had been younger, then maybe he wouldn’t have picked up on his grandparents’ awkward interactions and lack of social skills. But Henry was five and easily saw that the new interlopers were trying too hard, offering him sweets and toys in exchange for cuddles and smiles.
After an uncomfortable meal, Seb and Irene sat side by side on the sofa in the living room. On the opposite sofa, Emily, Henry and Lucy faced them. The atmosphere was charged.
“Why are you wearing that tatty old thing?” Seb asked Henry, pointing to his giraffe hoodie.
Henry screwed up his face, clearly displeased with the negative comment on his favourite item of clothing. He brought Tiny up to his ear, wiggled the giraffe’s head and listened intently.
“Tiny says it isn’t tatty.”
Irene sighed. “I don’t think that’s healthy.”
Emily knew Henry’s recent insistence on speaking via Tiny wasn’t ideal, but she wasn’t about to be criticised by Irene for it. The woman hadn’t been a part of Henry’s life and didn’t know him.
“A lot of children his age do it. It’s perfectly normal,” Lucy interjected.
“There’s an easy way to stop it,” Seb pointed out, watching Henry with a calculating look and obviously debating the best way to snatch Tiny from his grasp.
“It’s just a cuddly toy,” Emily said firmly, smoothing her hand through Henry’s hair to soothe him. Henry tensed and turned away from Seb and Irene to lean into his mother’s side. He seemed to have made up his mind instantly, as children often do. He didn’t like them, and he didn’t want anything to do with them.
Where many adults would have changed their approach and attempted to curry favour, instead they pushed him further.
“Come now, Henry,” Seb pressed. “We’ve come a long way to see you.”
“You’ve hardly spoken to us,” Irene added.
Henry silently fidgeted against Emily, moving his head to avoid eye contact with them. She could understand both points of view. Henry was obviously uncomfortable with the Brennans, and they were clearly trying to make a connection. They weren’t being malicious, just clueless.
She knew it would be up to her to attempt to fix the rift. It was obvious that the Brennans wouldn’t be giving up anytime soon, so it was in everyone’s best interest to get along, or at least project the impression that they were getting along.
“Do you still have dogs?” she asked them.
“Yes, two Labradors.” Irene seemingly picked up on Emily’s tactic. “Bertie and Max.”
“Wow, did you hear that, Henry? You love Labradors, don’t you?” Emily said with as much enthusiasm as she could.
Henry didn’t say anything, instead burrowing farther into Emily’s side.
“We have horses too,” Irene tried.
“You love horses! Maybe you could go and see them sometime?” As much as she hated running a publicity campaign for the Brennans, Emily knew it was necessary.
Henry held Tiny up into the air and slowly blew out a raspberry. Lucy excused herself to the kitchen to get more coffee, clearly trying to not laugh at Henry’s staunch refusal to participate.
Knowing space would be the best way to move forward, Emily announced that it was time for Henry to go to bed. The Brennans agreed and quickly left, relief visible on their faces.
Later that evening, Emily had mulled over the events. She hoped—and assumed—they would understand that time and space would eventually win Henry over.
Sadly, Seb seemed uninterested in that tactic, and the very next day he’d returned to the office and pushed for more time with Henry. In front of Marcus, he’d suggested taking Henry to the park without Emily, to force Henry to interact with them without t
he security blanket of his mother. When Marcus approved of the scheme, Emily felt she couldn’t say no.
So, some days while she worked, they took him to the park, with Lucy’s supervision. They bought him lunch and attempted to buy his love and trust with toys, which Emily really hated. She’d worked hard to have Henry understand the true cost of things, and now that was being torn down in an attempt to buy him.
The real challenge had come over the weekend when they had suggested taking him for the night. Emily had pushed back against the idea.
“I really don’t think Henry is ready,” she had whispered, hating that the conversation was, yet again, taking place in the office.
“If we wait for him to be ready, it will never happen,” Seb had argued. “Sometimes children need to be pushed outside their comfort zone.”
“It seems too soon.” Emily had shaken her head.
“Nonsense.” Seb had waved at one of the finance directors as she passed, then turned back to Emily. “How are you settling in here? Well, I hope?” He’d smiled, but the question was anything but friendly. “Fortuitous that the role was available so soon after Crown terminated your employment. Especially with employment being so hard to come across at the moment,” he added.
It was a thinly veiled threat; one Emily couldn’t afford to allow him to follow through on. So she’d caved to their wishes and kept her head down. She’d resolved to work hard and gain much- needed experience. When she had a few months of employment under her belt, she’d be able to look for other work. It wasn’t an ideal plan, but it was all she could think to do.
She’d hoped that the weekend with Henry would cause Seb and Irene to realise that it wasn’t as easy to change the mind of a five-year-old as they thought. She’d hoped it would be enough to make them back off.
Henry had returned on Sunday afternoon more quiet and distant than before he left. Even Tiny didn’t have anything to say, a silent testament to how awful the overnight stay must have been for him.
As Emily took his bag from Irene, the older woman had suggested that they make it a regular thing, dressing it up as an opportunity for Emily to have Saturday nights to herself. There was even a suggestion of going out and meeting people.
Emily had forced down her anger, smiled, and left the answer deliberately vague. But she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that Seb would soon be on the case.
CHAPTER 12
Olivia hobbled through the office. Despite her crutch, she managed to skilfully dodge the various secretaries who attempted to prevent her from her goal. She threw open the door to the large office and marched in.
“Olivia!” Marcus looked up and smiled at her. “Do excuse the mess.” He indicated some unpacked archive boxes. “We’ve only been open a week. Still finding homes for everything.”
“Marcus,” Olivia greeted tightly. “We need to talk.” She wasn’t interested in fake niceties.
Marcus looked at Olivia’s crutch with a frown. “Did something happen?”
“I’m sure you’re already aware that I was unfortunately involved in a plane crash, but that’s not why I’m here.” She turned around to see one of the secretaries lingering in the doorway, awaiting guidance. Olivia pulled out the chair in front of Marcus’ desk, purposefully sat down, and waited silently.
“It’s fine, Tina,” Marcus dismissed the young woman and walked around his desk to take his chair. He regarded Olivia again and pointed to her forehead. “Nasty bruise you have there.”
“Nothing compared to the knife in my back.” She’d had enough beating around the bush. Pretence wasn’t her thing at the best of times, but now she desperately needed to get to the facts of the matter.
Marcus chuckled. “Now, now…”
“I get that you hate me. You always have. Even I couldn’t miss that. But are you so willing to destroy the business that you helped to build? You’ll be putting hundreds of people out of work. You’ll—”
“Be doing nothing of the sort.” Marcus leaned forward and interlaced his fingers on the desktop. “There is a place for everyone, right here.”
“Everyone of your clique,” Olivia pointed out with a nod towards the main office. She’d seen them as soon as she’d walked in: the obvious traitors, the opportunity-seekers, and the odd surprise deserter. Most had looked away from her, busying themselves with sudden phone calls or e-mails.
“Oh, you’ve seen the new corporate finance team?” Marcus drawled.
“You mean my corporate finance team?” Olivia asked. “The one we spent years perfecting—internal promotions, training, headhunting, internships. Why are you doing this?” Olivia had promised herself that she would remain calm and collected, keep the conversation professional. But Marcus had worked with her father; he knew how important the company was to her. This wasn’t just a business decision; it was a personal attack, and Olivia felt it keenly.
Marcus let out a sigh and leaned back in his high-back leather chair, regarding Olivia analytically. She held his gaze, not willing to back down from his scrutiny.
“Your father,” Marcus began, “was a kind man. But he was not a business man.”
Olivia opened her mouth to argue, but Marcus held up his hand to silence her. She closed her mouth, waiting to hear what he had to say before launching her counteroffensive.
“Your mother was the business brains, and I regret my decision to go with your father to London to set up the European office. Yes, he was a brilliant accountant, but he had no business acumen.”
“That’s not true,” Olivia argued, unable to stop herself from defending her father.
“I’m sorry, but it is.” Marcus shrugged. “The man was a fish out of water without your mother. I mean, she convinced him to anglicise your name, eradicating every sign of your Puerto Rican roots because she knew L-E-W-I-S would be easier to present than L-U-I-S. And he let her. He was spineless, Olivia. Spineless.”
“How dare you!” Olivia got to her feet, grimacing slightly at the jolt of pain that rushed from her ankle all the way up her leg.
Marcus tilted his head indifferently. “It’s the truth. I made the business what it is today. He handed you that company like giving car keys to a toddler. And now I’ve had enough of playing the underdog.”
“The underdog? You were a senior partner. You managed three departments without a scrap of interference from me. You were given everything you wanted.” Olivia knew that they had never seen eye to eye, but she had always made sure to put personal feelings aside. For the sake of the business, she’d given Marcus power and autonomy, which he was now using to destroy her and the company. The company her father had entrusted her with. She couldn’t help but feel an enormous sense of guilt. She knew someone else may well have seen the signs and been able to stop Marcus long before things got to this point.
“Not exactly.”
“My father…” Olivia felt her voice falter and took a breath. “My father built that business up to an international, well-respected firm. You can’t take credit for that.”
“I can, and I will.” Marcus shrugged. “You were a child when the business was set up. You know nothing of the decisions we made, the long nights, the unpaid overtime, hell, the unpaid anytime! That business grew from blood, sweat, and tears, and not just your father’s.”
“Oh, please, you think I don’t know that?”
“I deserved more,” Marcus told her fiercely.
Olivia stared down at him, hit by the sudden realisation that she had no idea how to communicate with this man. She never had. He was a shrewd operator, and he had always known how to get under her skin and say exactly the right thing at the right moment. Marcus knew her inside out. He’d been manipulating her for years. But what bothered her most of all was that she’d let him.
The truth was, she had always been afraid of wrecking her father’s legacy. Despite her reservations, her father had believed in her ability to learn the skills needed to be a strong leader. Of course, he knew of her social difficulties, but he�
�d always had faith that she would overcome them. She never had.
And Marcus had always been on hand to remind her of her weaknesses, to point out any and every mistake she ever made. He’d served as a physical reminder of her fear of destroying everything her father had achieved. She’d known him practically all her life, and she knew with certainty that attempting to appeal to his sensitivities would be pointless.
“This isn’t over, Marcus.”
“I’m sure it isn’t, Olivia. But it will be.” He grinned. “Soon.”
Olivia picked up her crutch and leaned heavily on it as she quickly left, waving away the young secretary and making her own way towards the elevators at the end of the office. She glanced at the desks to either side and shook her head as she recognised countless people from both the London and New York offices. As she passed by, heads dipped in focused silence to avoid eye contact with her.
She stabbed her finger onto the button to call the elevator and pursed her lips in irritated silence while she waited.
“Olivia?”
She turned and looked at the older woman with a sigh. “You too, Kathryn?” Kathryn Morgan had been an office manager in New York for many years.
Kathryn looked apologetic. “I’m sorry, I really agonised over it, but Marcus made me such a good offer, and with both boys struggling after the property crash, I just…”
Olivia held up her hand. “I understand. I do. I just, well, I just wish it wasn’t this way.”
Of course she understood the practicalities. People needed to earn money; they needed to live. She just wished that it didn’t feel as if she was losing members of her own family.
“It’s nothing personal, from any of us.” Kathryn gestured to the rest of the staff. “He simply made us offers we couldn’t refuse. Once one up and left, it was like dominoes falling down. As I say, it was nothing personal.”
The elevator pinged to signal its arrival, and Olivia stepped to the side to avoid blocking the door. “I appreciate you saying so. I would hate to think everyone was unhappy.”
