The fact that this manipulative piece of my parents’ machinations has managed to worm its way into my relationship, my company, and every aspect of my future is infuriating enough.
The fact that it hurt Cece is unforgivable.
Even if I succeed in winning over my shareholders.
Even if they vote me back in.
Even if the market recovers enough for us to remove the taint my parents left.
None of that changes what happened.
Because somewhere along the way, Cece attached meaning to my decision. She thinks I’m removing the clause because of a reason I, unfortunately, planted in her head.
Because Cece thinks she’s a placeholder.
Because I’m preparing for someone else.
The thought almost makes my skin break into hives. The unrelenting urgency of this situation is juxtaposed with the helpless irresolution.
There’s no right decision anymore. Just the less painful one.
But feelings don’t care about facts. And now I’llspend the rest of my life proving it. Because somewhere beneath all that anger and hurt and bitterness, I know she’s still there.
My Cece.
The woman who once looked at me with quiet certainty, yet tremulous trust.
I finally end the meeting a little after ten-thirty. After what seems like a million run-throughs of the same exact risk-tolerant scenarios.
By the time I leave Astor Tower, answer two more calls from legal, and fight my way through Vancouver traffic, it’s nearly eleven-thirty when I step into my penthouse. “Cece?”
Silence greets me when I half expected her to stick to her fragile, new routine.
My stomach immediately drops. I toss my keys onto the console table and head farther inside.
The living room is dark. The kitchen is empty. Even the lack of an open whiskey bottle makes my chest tighten.
“Baby?” I try again, inching toward the bedroom.
Yet no light spills from the half-open door. All while silence thickens.
A hot knot of dread curls low in my gut. For a split second, my brain does what it always does now.
It catastrophizes.
I see twisted metal. A shattered windshield. Her tiny car wrapped around a tree somewhere in vast Greater Vancouver.
My breathing catches.
No.
No, no, no.
Jesus Christ.
I yank my phone out and immediately dialAmanda. Forcing myself not to spiral into worst-case scenarios.
The guilt hits me halfway through the second ring.
