Ethan
I cleaned up the bottle of wine; Oliver was going to be pissed. It was a collectable bottle of a vintage he’d only managed to get a few bottles of. Hopefully he wouldn’t notice, but, even if he did, there was nothing that could be done now.
I turned all of the lights off downstairs and went back to the bedroom. The sheets were still messy from earlier in the night when I’d been sharing the bed with Becka, and I shook my head, flipping on the television. I did think for a moment about knocking on her bedroom door; I knew she had gone to the room at the end of the hall. But, her threat was loud and clear in my mind, and the last thing I wanted to do was have another scene. If she started thinking rationally, I’d have a real problem on my hands. Best for her to go to sleep angry, wake up angry, and go back home.
The news was more of the same. Damn Oliver, I shook my head and poured myself a scotch from the bar. He was messing everything up, and, just when things were coming to a head, he’d bailed. Not a lot of what I’d told Becka was the truth, but my not having any idea where Oliver was happened to be true, unfortunately. If I’d known where he was, I would have flown to get him and dragged his sorry ass back to face everything that was going on. Such a chicken shit.
I sat in an overstuffed leather chair and watched the talking heads on CNN rip Neurotova apart from every side. There was a panel discussion focusing on the financial impact of business on food science and on the American diet. The heads were saying that scandals like what was happening, where aspects of animal cruelty came into play with food that we put on our children’s tables, was one of the unfortunate aspects of the culture in which we lived. Of course, an argument ensued about how if the billionaires in charge of businesses like Neurotova were as rich in ethics as they were in dollars, it wouldn’t be an aspect of our culture… and blah, blah, blah.
I zoned out, letting the voices wash over me along with my scotch. When my first scotch was done, I refilled it. I walked by the door and, again, thought about going to Becka’s room and knocking on her door. It seemed so strange to be in Oliver’s house to begin with, but then to have Becka sleeping so close and not be near her seemed downright wrong.
I thought about my lips on hers, how we had finally kissed, finally connected, and how intense our connection had been. Regardless of her past with Oliver, I was sure that I somehow had a future with Becka. But, as I sipped my drink, I heard my brain negating that very idea. It was so unlike me to even be thinking of her. I had never gotten caught up in a single woman, certainly not to the point of distraction. All of the decisions I’d been making lately seemed to be relating only to Oliver and Becka and having nothing to do with myself and my own wellbeing. That had to change.
I knew that Becka could never know the truth. Oliver hadn’t told her, of course, outside of letting her know that we were brothers. That was plenty, and I’d had to take him to task for it. Our fight in his office had been long overdue, and it all came as a result of him telling Becka more than she was entitled to know.
The trouble was, she was smart. She was smarter than any woman I’d been interested in for at least the last several years. I had never needed to worry about women asking about my past, my family, even what I did for a living. I met my women at fundraisers and business functions; all they cared about was that I was a billionaire, nothing more.
Becka didn’t give two shits about my billionaire status… and that, I realized, made her the most dangerous woman I’d ever known. I needed to ensure that she didn’t know any more about Oliver, Neurotova, or me than she already did. She already knew far too much.
Becka
I woke up early the next morning, and I was sure I was up before Ethan, since the sun had just risen. Still, I grabbed my purse and phone and, as quietly as I could, I snuck past his room and down the hall. I didn’t hear any noise from his room and was grateful that I was able to sneak out. Though a night of sleep had helped my mood, I was still highly pissed. I felt like I had a good plan moving forward, though: I was going to go back to school and focus on my dissertation. Though I was technically still Oliver’s assistant, while he was underground, I was as well. I had no intentions of showing up anywhere near Neurotova until I heard from him. I reasoned that if he wasn’t going to tell me where he was, then he could very well live without an assistant until he was willing to do so.
I walked into the kitchen and grabbed an apple; I was starving. Then, I walked into the entryway. I had gotten all the way to the front door and had one hand in my purse when I realized: I had my keys, but I had no car. Lisa had dropped me off the night before. Shit.
Well, I knew I’d walk to town before I’d go knock on Ethan’s door and ask him for a ride. But, I also knew that Oliver had a driver, and he had several cars at his disposal in his private garage. His garage, of course, would be coded with some security password. No matter, I would figure it out. I walked out to the front lawn and began to explore around me. I went to the back and tried the garage; of course, it was locked. I looked for a motorcycle (not that I knew how to ride one), a scooter, hell, even a riding lawnmower. Nothing.
I walked back toward the front of the house and sat on the stoop for a minute, trying to collect my thoughts. I could text Lisa to come and get me. Or, I could go wake Ethan. Neither of those possibilities seemed like real answers, for the same reason: both involved having a conversation with Ethan before I was ready to do so.
I sighed, not knowing what to do. My eyes wandered across the driveway and, as they came across Ethan’s car, I nearly slapped myself in the forehead. Of course; I could take Ethan’s car. He wouldn’t mind, right? I snickered at my cleverness. I walked to the driver’s side and peered through the tinted glass. I didn’t see any keys, which wasn’t a huge surprise. I walked back in the front door and tiptoed through the foyer into the kitchen. Jackpot! There, on the counter, was a set of keys. They had to be Ethan’s. I grabbed them, and quietly snuck back out of the house. I half expected Ethan to come jumping out at me, but luck was on my side and he didn’t.
I found the right key immediately, thank goodness for those huge, gaudy fobs every car touted these days, and, in three minutes, I was on my way down the driveway in Ethan’s Alfa Romeo. I looked back when I reached the end of the driveway and grinned; Ethan had awakened at the sound of his engine revving, and he stood in the doorway in his boxers shouting at me.
I waved in the rearview mirror, knowing I was already too far for him to see me. It felt good; it felt like at least a minor victory. My phone began to light up immediately with calls and texts from Ethan; I shut my phone off and hid it under the seat.
My plan was to drive straight to school. I hadn’t showered or even changed clothes from the day before, but my desire to feel something normal, something like home, was overwhelming. I wanted to see Dr. Evans, to sit in her office and have a conversation like I was just a plain old ordinary student once again.
That plan changed the moment I drove onto campus. I had never been more clandestine in my life; there was no way a grad student like myself could possibly afford the car I was driving, not to mention my lack of showering had left my hair looking like, well like less than its usual sheen. I put on my sunglasses and drove through the campus, my stomach sinking as I did.
The media was everywhere, swarming not just the food science building, but the student center and every other building on campus. A helicopter sounded overhead, and I had to stop several times for photographers who were running across the street, peering into my car as if they were expecting me to be Oliver or Ethan, or… me.
There was no way I could get to Dr. Evans with these crowds, and I realized for the first time that my life as I’d known it before, before Ethan and Oliver, was largely over. The college was suffering for the actions of Ethan, and my involvement with him and with Oliver hadn’t helped. I felt nauseous, and I knew a panic attack was close at hand. I pulled over, locked all my doors, and I took out my phone.
I hadn’t listened to my me
ssages for more than a day, since I’d checked when I was with Lisa. I still didn’t have any messages from Oliver, and I had plenty from Ethan about the theft of his car, but I also had a number of messages from Dr. Evans, wondering where I was, wondering if I was okay, asking me to contact her, giving me her personal number, telling me to stay away from the campus if I could, that everything was a nightmare.
I watched the carnage, the media frenzy, knowing I had partially caused it. I drove through, faster than I should have for someone not wanting attention, and I drove toward my apartment. I didn’t have any idea if Lisa was home or not; all I knew was, I needed a safe place to be.
I drove home quickly, not bothering to stop anywhere along the way, though I was dying for a coffee. I knew I had coffee at home, and I reminded myself that I could live without it, though I also felt quite strongly that, at minimum, I deserved a cup of damn coffee for everything I’d been through in the last twenty four hours. I pulled up into the parking lot of my complex, sped into the building, and sighed with relief as the elevator doors closed.
When they opened on my floor, I used my key to open my door, but, to my surprise, my door was open.
“Lisa?” I called as I pushed the door open.
“Not Lisa,” Oliver said. He stood in my living room.
“What the fuck?!” I asked, incredulous, a little scared, and, okay, a little excited as well. “What are you doing here? How did you get in here?”
He walked to me and embraced me. “Becka, I’m so sorry about all of this. I’m just so sorry.”
I pulled away, the flash of anger I was feeling mirroring that which I’d felt for Ethan the night before.
“Don’t apologize and try to hug me like everything is just okay. What the hell are you doing here, where the hell have you been, and what the hell is going on?” My voice rose with each question, and Oliver held out his hands to quiet me down.
“Okay, I know you’re mad. You have every right to be mad, I agree with you. Please, let’s get you some coffee, I know you’re dying for some, and I’ll tell you everything.”
I glared at him, then, a sense of relief washed over me suddenly, an emotion I hadn’t expected, and I threw my arms around him. I felt tears poking at my eyes, but I refused to let them out.
“I thought something bad had happened to you,” I said. “I thought Ethan…”
“You thought Ethan hurt me?” He held me close, and the warmth of his body seemed to find all of the cold spaces in mine and sooth them. “Honey, Ethan is a calculating asshole, but he’s not a murderer. He would never hurt me.”
He pulled away and looked into my eyes. His concern was evident, and I made sure to let him see the full scale of how hurt I was, not just by Ethan, but by him not communicating anything to me.
“You didn’t call or text. I didn’t hear anything from you. And then I got to your house and Ethan was there, and there was blood all over the floor, and what was I supposed to think?” My voice came out of me in a tumble and I realized how grateful I was that he was alive… and that it meant Ethan had been telling the truth. If he was telling the truth about Oliver’s wellbeing, then maybe he was telling the truth about other things as well. Maybe I wasn’t such a huge misjudge of character after all.
“I am so sorry,” he said. “I never meant for any of this to happen, not like this. And you were never supposed to get involved to the level that you have been.”
“My career is all but ruined,” I said. “My dissertation… I mean, my advisor is barely speaking to me, my college is crawling with the press, and I’m being accused of things I can’t even explain because I don’t know what they are! I mean, what the fuck!” I threw up my hands in exasperation, a gesture I felt was becoming second nature to me.
“Becka, honey, let me explain…”
Oliver
I knew that I owed Becka more than just a basic explanation.
“Go take a shower,” I said. “How did you get here?”
She smirked and looked at me out of the tops of her eyes. “I stole Ethan’s car,” she shrugged.
I laughed. “Well played! How many times has he called you?”
“I don’t know, fifteen? Twenty? I shut my phone off. After I realized I didn’t have any messages from you.”
I heard the bite in her voice. She was willing to joke, but only to a point. She didn’t want me to forget that she was angry.
“Ah. Got it,” I said. I needed to change the subject. “When you’re done in the shower, I’ll have coffee and breakfast made. Then, we can sit down and I’ll tell you everything.”
She seemed satisfied with that, and she set her phone, Ethan’s keys, and her purse on the table along with her own keys. She disappeared into the shower. I heard the door lock, a final reminder that we were doing things today on her terms, no one else’s.
I had spent the last few days out of the country, away from the prying American media, but not a moment had gone by that I hadn’t missed Becka. I had thought it would be safer for me to leave her behind, but the more time I’d been gone, the more I had wished she was with me. Of course, saying that to her now amounted to no more than an empty platitude. I needed to prove it to her; I knew that.
She got out of the shower and she took her time getting dressed. She finally emerged from her bedroom in sweat pants and a tank top, her hair wet and hanging in strands around her shoulders. She looked gorgeous.
I had, as promised, prepared coffee, bacon, eggs, and toast. I asked her if she wanted pancakes.
“I want answers,” was her response.
I sighed. It was time.
I served her breakfast, then made a plate for myself and sat across from her at her breakfast bar. Then, I began to fill her in on the history of Neurotova, and my relationship with Ethan, and how it had all gone so wrong.
“When we’d started,” I said, “Ethan and I had had our hands equally in everything. It was a partnership, and it looked like we were going to pretty much run the world. We were the perfect partners: brothers, we knew the other inside out, we could communicate… we could even fight without it being that big of a deal. In short, it was perfect.” I sipped my coffee. I knew I had Becka’s full attention; she had barely touched her food. “But,” I continued, “after a few years, it became clear that his interest was more on the financial and business front, whereas mine was far more on the food science and chemical part. I should have known right then that bad things were about to happen. He was so greedy.” I shook my head.
“When I’d realized how greedy Ethan was, that he cared not about the production of healthy alternatives to some of our most harmful foods, I began to investigate him privately. Neurotova was booming at the time; we were considered by both Fortune and Time to be the next up and coming investment opportunity and our stock was rising daily.” I paused and looked at Becka.
“The success made me spend more time in the lab; I was there day and night, working with the scientists we hired to maintain quality and consistency, to make sure that every procedure was followed to the letter. I had visions of being not just the world’s most lucrative company, but the most ethical as well. It seemed that every other company, food science or not, faced scandal after scandal with corrupt CEOs, employee embezzlement, or unethical practices such as animal testing, human testing, or mislabeling of ingredients. I wanted more than anything to rise above all of that.”
“It had been a few years before I realized what Ethan was doing. He had covered his tracks so well. And, actually, it wasn’t me who ultimately found out what was happing; it was an intern from the local college, the same college you attend.” Becka perked up here; I could see the wheels turning in her head, wondering if she knew the intern.
“The intern had come to me with concerns about evidence of animals in the lab; he had found fur, feces, and scraps of little used for rabbits, rats, and other small animals.
‘What do you mean?’ I had asked.
‘I think, Sir,’ the intern had sa
id nervously, ‘that someone, or maybe more than one, is performing tests on animals in the Neurotova facilities. And trying to hide the evidence.’
Well, you can imagine my shock. The intern had been one of my best scientists at the time, regardless of his intern status, and I set him to work immediately on a private, separate assignment to find out what was happening in the lab. With use of video equipment, special access to the company emails and records, and an all access key to any lab and office in the facility, a month later, the intern had returned to me with a full report on what was happening.”
I stood up and began to pace around Becka’s kitchen, the emotion of the entire situation still raw, still active within me.
“I had been disgusted, almost physically sick, as I watched the testing going on in the labs after hours. Animals were, I’d realized, in cages in Neurotova that very moment, waiting until the majority had gone home and the lights had been turned off.”
“What did you say to the intern?” Becka asked.
“I asked him, ‘Who do these people report to?’
The intern looked uncomfortable, shifting in his seat and speaking quietly. ‘They report to Ethan, Sir,’ he had said. ‘There are agendas of meetings with Ethan’s name on them, and Ethan can be seen in some of the video footage. I can’t determine if he’s facilitating the experimentation, but he’s supporting it at the minimum.’
Well, you can imagine my rage. I destroyed nearly everything in my office that day, and I scared the shit out of that poor intern.”
“What did you say to Ethan?” Becka asked.
“First, I had to reward my intern. I told him that he’d done exceptional work.
‘Your work will be reflected in just a few weeks when you’re offered a formal position with Neurotova.”
The intern’s eyes had widened and brightened at the same time, a smile beginning to spread across his lips in spite of the situation.
‘Really, Sir?’
‘Absolutely,’ I had declared. ‘Your loyalty is unwavering and your research is impeccable. I’d have hired you regardless, but this investigation of yours shows me that you are exactly the type of person I want in this company moving forward. Because there are going to be some changes very soon.’
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