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Shouldn't he feel a surge of triumph? This was a victory wasn't it? He'd won. He couldn't count the number of times he'd celebrated after a hostile takeover or a major business coup. Since he was a kid he'd dreamed of this moment, ached for it, imagined it a million times in his head. And he'd plotted his every move like a master chess player orchestrating a championship match. So why then did he feel so empty? Why did he feel so utterly lost?
The look on Olivia's face had gutted him. He'd seen the surprise, the disbelief, then the shock and utter devastation in her eyes. She'd looked like a wounded bird – fragile and broken. Defeated. She'd trusted him and he'd betrayed that trust by undermining her family’s legacy. He'd made a fool of her father – a man who was now his mother's fiance. His future stepfather. How could he have done such a thing? Why hadn't he changed course once he came back to town and fell back in love with Olivia and his hometown? Why hadn’t he confessed all after Simon’s phone call?
Although he had been on the verge of calling off the stock acquisition, it had been too late. He had been defeated by his own plan.
And now he’d lost the woman he loved.
Love. The very idea of it terrified him. It always had. For him love had always been tied up with unimaginable loss, and he'd never been brave enough to take a chance on loving anyone other than his family members. But n
ow things were different. He was different. He was so tired of running. Coming back home had shown him that there were many things in life his millions couldn't buy. Love. Family. Roots. A soft place to fall.
Olivia.
“Give me one good reason I shouldn't punch you into next week!”
Hunter turned around and saw Braxon barreling towards him, his hands fisted at his sides, his face as dark as storm clouds.
Hunter squared his shoulders and let out a harsh laugh. “You couldn't do it when we were kids. What makes you think anything has changed?”
Braxon took a step toward him, his movements full of power, his face a mask of unbridled rage. “While you've been sitting in an office ruling your kingdom, I've been living in the real world. I have a feeling it's been a while since anyone has challenged you.”
“Give me your best shot, little brother,” Hunter snarled as he met his brother mid-stride and stood chest to chest with him, so close that they could feel each other's hot breath on their faces. As if out of nowhere, Joshua stepped between them, pushing them away from each other with a rough shove of his palms.
“Enough!” Joshua screamed, his voice exploding in anger.
“What kind of stunt was that?” Sadie exploded as she crashed through the door, waving her hands wildly as she made her way toward her brothers. “Is it true what Marcus said?”
“Give him a chance to explain,” Joshua said tersely, his eyes searching Hunter's for an explanation. “You can explain this, can't you?”
“Yes, son. Explain.” His mother's voice cut through the noise, demanding all of his attention. “Explain why you would do this. Why would a man who has everything in the world need to kick another man when he's down?” Mae's face had a stricken appearance, as if she'd been traumatized. The eyes that usually greeted him with warmth and compassion now glittered with resentment and cold, hard anger.
“Mama,” he said in a pleading voice. “It's not like that. It wasn't personal. I made a business decision to take over a failing company. I do that all the time in my line of work.”
“Really?” she said in an incredulous voice. “You do this all the time? You stab friends in the back without a thought to their feelings? You come back to town under false pretenses, all the while planning to take control of Jack’s company? Is that really what you do, son? Because if that's how you comport yourself, I can't ever recall being more ashamed of anyone in my life.”
He watched Mama shoo Braxton, Sadie and Joshua out of the room, presumably so she could talk privately with him. As soon as they departed, she moved toward him so that there was no space between them, no distance separating them. She reached for him, placing his hand firmly in her own.
“I raised all of my children to be righteous, God-fearing, honest and caring. Can you honestly say that there was anything righteous about what you did? Was it honest? Were you caring for Olivia when you toyed with her heart, all the while knowing you were going to pull the rug out from under her?”
Hunter turned his head sharply towards his mother, surprise flowing through him at the realization that she knew all about his relationship with Olivia.
“Yes, son, I know all about you and Olivia. I always have. You didn't fool me back in the day and you surely aren't fooling me now. You've had a light in your eyes ever since you've come back home. I know that has everything to do with Olivia. That girl has always thought the world of you. And, whether you're ready to admit it or not, she's always brought out the best in you.” Mae let out a weary sigh. “I've always been proud of you, Hunter. You've achieved so much in your life. I know it took a lot of sacrifice and hard work to get there. But, what good is it all, if you've lost your soul along the way?”
The verse from Matthew 16:26 washed over him. For what is a man profited, if he shall gain the whole word, and lose his own soul?
It seared him like acid. Was he that man?
He’d always strived to be a good man. Righteous. Hard working. Honest. How had he failed so miserably?
It was all becoming too much for him. For all the times he'd envisioned buying Renault Industries he'd never imagined the fallout. The heartbreak in Olivia's eyes. The disappointment on Mama's face. The utter humiliation oozing from Jack's every pore. When Marcus had shown him the paperwork Jack had resembled a broken man, his wide shoulders slumped in defeat and pain. He'd done that single-handedly. His grand plan had finally come to fruition, and instead of feeling victorious, he felt ashamed of himself. Petty. Small. Mean-spirited. Unworthy.
He covered his face with his hands, his breathing sounding shallow and choppy to his own ears. Sweat was breaking out on his forehead and his heart was doing a fast tap dance inside his chest. He was having a panic attack! The attacks began after his father's death, during a time when he'd been holding all his emotions in and being the stoic child. The grief he'd felt over losing his father had been soul-shattering, yet he'd never been able to express that sorrow in any tangible way. There'd been no outlet for all the pain and devastation he'd felt. There'd been no way to channel the feelings of hopelessness and the fierce rage he'd felt against the man who'd taken his father's life.
He hadn’t experienced a panic attack since he was in business school. Over the years he'd learned how to control them and hold them at bay. There were simple exercises he utilized to minimize their impact. Even so, the thought of being swept up in a full-fledged panic attack scared him senseless. Breathe, he urged himself. Just breathe. He could feel Mama's soothing hands across his back and shoulders, along with her sweet voice crooning words of reassurance.
“Take deep breaths, son. Nice and easy. This too shall pass,” she said as she motioned for him to focus on his breathing and take deep breaths.
