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“The plan? Because this wasn’t the fucking plan, Dane.” I turn to face him. “The plan was she falls in love with you and you get access to her money, name, and reputation to build an empire which you’ve fucking done. So why can’t you just be happy with that?”
“You want me to settle?” he scoffs. “Rich coming from someone born into billions.”
“No, I want you to live your life and stop being a piece of shit. Last week was the last time you’ll ever call me to come bail you out of a pile of cocaine and hookers that you can’t pay for at my own club.”
“Oh no,” he says, his tone mocking, “did the poor little rich boy suddenly grow a conscience after being a heartless asshole his entire life?”
He’s not wrong. I have a reputation for being cold and heartless; my entire family does. We aren’t the altruistic, do-good billionaires who pulled ourselves up by our bootstraps. We’re the ruthless ones, the cutthroat, step on everyone to get ahead billionaires with ties to organized crime. In fact, my father’s nickname wasSatan’s right-hand man, a nickname he took great pride in.
“Forbes just named you as one of the most successful entrepreneurs of our generation with a projected net worth of one billion by the age of forty-five. That isn’t good enough?”
“Good enough? Is that good enough?” He spits the words at me, his face red with rage almost instantly. This is Dane. This is the real Dane that nobody ever sees but me. He’s a master of disguise, a true psychopath if I’ve ever seen one. “No, it’s not fucking good enough. I deserve the same wealth as you and Emery. My father would be CEO at Piedmont Financial right now had that lying sack of shit old man not fired him. It’s not good enough to make a billion, Mads. I want control of the company. I want the shares and her trust fund.”
A leap if I ever heard one. It’s the same narrative that Dane has clung to since I met him in college. He told all of us how his father had been one of the first hires at the now multibillion-dollar financial powerhouse Piedmont. And that Niles Piedmont Sr., who founded it, was a lying, money-hungry piece of shit who fired his dad without cause when he was just starting to rise within the company. It seemed unfair and we fell victim to his stories until we found out through others that his father was stealing from the company and risked their entire reputation when he was caught conducting fraud.
He was poor then, at Yale on a scholarship, but he was driven, more driven than anyone I’d ever met. He hung out with all the elites, rubbing elbows to learn tricks of the trade. He hung on to our every word, trying to fit in, to look like he belonged. He even spent summers with my family in the Hamptons and the South of France. He came into college looking every part the poor young man from Iowa and left looking like he was born and bred into generational wealth.
“And then,” he says around a cigar in his mouth as he lights it, “I’ll be richer than any of you.” He laughs, inhaling the sickly sweet smoke and smacking me on the back. “Isn’t that the American dream? To squash every person you can to rise to the top, taking every fucking cent and opportunity even if it was never yours to begin with?” He curls his hand into a fist as he speaks, like he’s a politician convincing a crowd. “I think your father would be proud of me.”
That’s what this has always been about for him. It wasn’t that he wanted to better himself and secure a future for his children… It was domination. He never felt like he fit in with us, even under all the designer clothes and high-end cars, partying in the hottest places, and staying in the most luxurious of accommodations, he was still that kid from Iowa. In his mind, the only way to become one of us, was to beat us. And there’s only one family that has more money than mine… Emery Wagner’s.
“So,” I say, my stomach churning, “what’s the new plan, then? Since you clearly don’t plan to stop fucking around and being a piece of shit to Emery behind her back… How are you going to gain control of her father’s empire and her trust? Knock her up?” Even saying that sentence makes me want to puke.
He doesn’t respond immediately. He takes a few more long puffs of the cigar before putting it out on the railing and turning to face me.
“Simple.” He smiles, his eyes void of any emotion. “I’m going to kill her.”
“That seems like a stretch, even for you.”
“It’s the perfect solution. The prenup I was forced to sign when I married her stated I would only receive her trust and her shares of the company if she died.”
I try to tell myself that Dane was a different person when I met him, but I don’t think he was. I think he fooled me, just like he’s fooled Emery. By the time I realized who he really was, it was too late. She was head over heels in love and I couldn’t leave her alone with him. Yeah, it was fucking selfish—it still is that I haven’t told her what kind of man he really is, but I know if I do, I’ll lose her. I’ll lose any tie or contact I have with her.
“Why now?” I ask, not really sure he even has the balls to go through with murder.
“The prenup states I only get access if we make it until our fifth anniversary.” I feel my eyes widen. He notices and laughs. “You didn’t believe me, did you?” He reaches over and squeezes my shoulder. “Don’t worry, I’ve taken care of it already, but if you think for one second that you’re going to warn her, to tell her about my plan, I’ll make sure she knows that this was all your idea.”
I jerk my shoulder away. “My idea? I guess I missed that version of our history.”
“I didn’t. In fact, I remember you being the one who pointed her out to me. You’re the one who told me her father had just died and she was vulnerable, that I should get her to fall in love with me so I could use her.”
“Yeah, which is what you’ve done, but I never said to fucking kill her.”
“Well, yeah, I had to pivot, add my own demands on the deal. What kind of businessman would I be if I didn’t renegotiate the terms?” He smiles again, all his teeth showing like I’m supposed to be impressed.
“You’re a psycho, Dane, you know that?”
“Nah, I’m just highly motivated. And don’t think I don’t know why you’ve stuck around all these years, getting me out of tough spots and covering for me so Emery doesn’t know what I’ve been up to. If you think for one second that she’s going to run to you if you tell her, you’re a fucking moron. She’ll want even less to do with you, if that’s possible, when she realizes you’ve been cleaning up my messes all these years.”
“You’ve already taken care of it?” I ask, ignoring his comments.
“You think I’m going to tell you when it’s going to happen?” He laughs. “So you can save her?” He laughs again as he walks toward the door. “I know you’re in love with her, Mads; I’ve always known, but Emery will never be yours.” He walks through the door and closes it softly behind him.
He’s not wrong. I know I’m fighting a losing battle. There’s only one way this ends. Dane Ashford has to die.
3
EMERY
