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So many tried to shape me into the perfect image Mrs. Cade should be. My in-laws hired designers, stylists to mold my image, and publicists to teach me how to deal with the press. They taught me how to hide my emotional turmoil under the refined façade of beauty and calm decorum. Perhaps because my mental issues didn’t sit well with the Cades’ public image, or that I now represent their family.
Waking up after the car accident in the hospital with a partial memory loss wasn’t easy to deal with, especially when I looked nothing like before. Surgeons did the best they could to reconstruct my face and broken body. But it wasn’t my face that bothered me, it was the look in my family’s eyes that floored me. I could tell they were holding back a gale of secrets from me. I just couldn’t connect the dots. My brain was still recovering. To be honest, even years later, I’m still missing chunks of my memories.
Since my makeup hides all the scars from the public judgment, I exhale in relief and run my hands down the length of the dress, subtly accentuating my curves, giving a professional vibe I was going for.
Smiling at my reflection in the mirror, I remind myself, “You’ll do whatever it takes.” Going back to the way things were, isn’t an option. Not anymore. “You worked hard for the past two years, trying to carve a new path for yourself. This is your chance. Don’t screw it up.”
The tension between me and my in-laws is getting worse. I don’t blame them for trying to push me out of their business and treating me like I’m a burden. After all, I’m the one who survived the car crash, and their son didn’t. I’m the face of their family’s devastation.
The elevator softly signals, announcing my stop at the top floor. I straighten my spine. Casting one last look at the mirror, I turn around to exit. My pulse drums loudly in my ears, and I wipe my sweaty palms on the back of my dress. My heels click on the floor as I walk to another reception area, overlooking the city. I halt at the bay window and take it all in.
“Wow, this is incredible,” I breathe out my surprise.
“It is, isn’t it? That’s why we built our house here.”
I freeze at the masculine voice behind me appearing from nowhere.
“Because of the view?” I twist my neck to look at the lean but handsome male in his late thirties. I recognize him instantly. Dark brown hair styled to the side gives him a subtle impression of wealth, as does his shiny, expensive watch reflecting the light.
“Because of the vision.” Mr. Greer’s lips stretch at the corner and his eyes sparkle.
“And what’s the vision?” I probe, knowing I shouldn’t, but I can’t help it.
At this point, I’m intrigued by these young entrepreneurs who became very successful in this business in the past decade.
“You tell me, Mrs. Cade.” His features become animated with excitement. “You’re standing at the top of Fading Ink. What do you see?”
So, Mr. Greer decided to quiz me before I had a chance to see his office. Well, nothing I wasn’t ready for. I gather my arms in front of me as I watch the city laid out in front of us.
“I think this floor signifies a watchtower.” I glance at him. “You probably invite authors to this floor to let them get a peek of this view before you sign them up. It’s incredible. Your eyes are drawn beyond the zenith while people below are looking up and wondering what you see. It could represent your publishing house’s vision to shape the world with the help of another person’s imagination.”
After silently listening to me, he slowly beams at me. “Why Fading Ink then?”
“It beats me.”
He chuckles, amused at my response, and the skin around his chocolate eyes crinkles slightly, adding to the charm.
“But it could be related to the books.”
“Very well, let’s have this interview out of our way, shall we?” Mr. Greer places his palm at the small of my back, leading me into his office as soon as I nod, but he doesn’t explain to me about the name.
We enter a spacious room with soft leather chairs facing the dark wood table. The view is drawing me in, and the atmosphere is almost Zen-like, but I’m still way too nervous to settle down.
Calm down, just breathe. Everything will be okay.
“Would you like some water?”
I nod, feeling my throat getting parched. Mr. Greer grabs a bottle of water and pours it in a glass he brought from the tray.
“We need to wait for Mr. Lawson to arrive. He got stuck in a video call conference with one of the overseas companies.” He passes me the glass.
“I hope everything’s okay,” I inquire politely, sipping the water, and to my surprise, he answers.
“One of the print houses in Norway had some errors in the final product that needed fixing. Nothing Mr. Lawson hasn’t dealt with before.”
Before I can drill for more information, the massive wooden doors click open and through them enters the man himself. His masculine form—in a dark blue suit tailored to his well-built physique —looks sculpted from stone.
Since Mr. Greer stands up, I also rise from my chair, placing the glass on the table, before twisting around the seat to greet his partner. But I stay behind since they speak in low voices a little bit farther from me. I use the moment to compose myself.
