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I’m now sitting worthless and sucking up the silence whenever Christopher steps in and takes over.

What an absolute shit stain of a situation. All down to Jack slinging his arm over my shoulder. One action and some stupid words that cost me my career on all but paper.

The first morning after the auction, Bill summoned me into his office before I’d even taken my coat off.

He questioned me for nearly an hour.

How long had I been advising Jack? What had I told him about the Parker family? Had I shared information belonging to Parker Capital? Had I used company time to assist The Gilded Table?

Had I introduced Jack to potential buyers?

Why the hell had I failed to keep that playboy idiot away from Alice?

That was the phrase he used.

Bill knew precisely where to place every accusation. He made it hurt.

“You were supposed to protect my daughter,” he told me. “You assured me you would.”

“I was trying to.”

“By helping Reid interfere in her life?”

“By helping her establish a career.”

“Don’t insult me, Bryce.”

Bill spoke about loyalty. Opportunity. Respect.

The years he’s invested in me. The faith he placed in me without the connections usually required to reach my position. My father is now nothing more than a long-term golf acquaintance apparently, not one of his closest friends. Relegated, just like me.

“You’ve been treated as part of the Parker family,” Bill said.

The words struck where he intended them to, because they were all true.

Bill did give me my first opportunity. He promoted me. Brought me into confidential meetings. Introduced me as the person he trusted to untangle problems and find solutions. He welcomed me into his home. Allowed me to sit at his table, sharing Sunday dinners. Trusted me with his daughter. Her safety. Her status.

I stood on trial that morning before William Parker with guilt building up like pulsing slime inside me, dump after dump of regret. I cursed myself that such a short burst of happiness had led to the dissolution of so much.

Maybe I had in fact betrayed Bill. Maybe the auction was never as noble as Jack made it out to be. Maybe Jack had indeed used Alice’s work and her need for recognition and turned it into another game.

Bill was very assured in his belief that Jack manipulated the auction room because winning mattered far more to him than Alice’s paintings, that much was obvious. Any fool could see that.

I remembered Jack’s paddle rising at one point two million. The limit he ignored. His arm around my shoulders afterwards. His deliberate revelation that I’d helped him. His refusal to consider what that performance might cost anyone else.

Bill had so many points that made perfect twisted sense for a man like Jack Reid. The casino owner who could happily risk a fortune because losing it wouldn’t alter his life. Not in the slightest.

Oh, the anger. The anger and the hurt. The pain. The shame.

I believed Bill that morning. I apologised for everything I did. I swore my allegiance to Parker Capital, and admitted the error of my ways. My stupid irresponsibility.

But then the punishment began anyway.

Nothing dramatic. Nothing I can point to as proof of cruelty.

Only distance.

A meeting moved without anyone telling me. Decisions made before I entered the room. Questions directed towards Christopher when I was the person who knew the answer. Bill not even looking my way.