Chapter 14
Everett
When I pull into the company lot, the building looms against the sky, its glass walls slick with rain. It used to look like legacy. Tonight, it looks like a crime scene. The lobby smells of lemon polish and betrayal. The floor numbers flicker like a countdown as we take the elevator up in silence.
By the time we reach my father’s office door, the adrenaline has sharpened into something quieter—resolve. Not rage. Not grief. Purpose.
I don’t knock. I open it and walk straight in, drawing strength from Ariel’s hand clasped tightly in mine.
He’s at the window, hands tucked behind his back, surveying the empire he built on lies and greed. His eyes meet mine as he turns, then narrow on Ariel at my side.
“You,” he hisses, his lip curling in disapproval.
“Me,” she says firmly, raising her chin and holding his gaze.
I’m not sure I’ve ever been prouder.
We cross the room toward him. “I know what you’ve done.” I wave a hand around me. “How you built this company.”
“What the fuck are you talking about, boy?” he sneers.
“You threatened Ariel. Threatened the lake. You said you’d fund dumping, buy silence, sabotage cleanups if she didn’t leave me.”
His expression doesn’t change, but the air in the room does, buzzing with a dangerous energy. “That’s quite a story,” he drawls. “I trust you’ve got proof.”
“You told me yourself,” Ariel says quietly. “All the terrible things you would do if I didn’t leave. You even offered me ten thousand dollars to disappear.”
He tilts his head, his expression sardonic. “A homeless tramp and a son scorned. Very compelling witnesses.”
Something inside me snaps—the last fraying thread of patience and years of swallowing what I should have screamed.
In two strides, I’ve crossed the space between us. My hand fists his collar and slams him back against the edge of his ridiculous mahogany desk. A picture frame rattles. His eyes widen for a split second before the arrogance slides back into place.
“You don’t get to talk to her like that,” I snarl. My knuckles tremble with the effort it takes not to hit him. “You don’t get to poison what’s left of this world and dress it up as business. You don’t get to lie to me about saving lakes while you’re the one killing them.”
He doesn’t flinch. “You’re making a fool of yourself, Everett. This tantrum might play well in the tabloids, but it won’t save your—what is she, exactly? Charity case? You’ve always had a soft spot for strays.”
I shove him harder, the fabric of his suit bunching beneath my hands. “She’s the reason I thank God I’m not like you,” I bite out. “She’s the reason I still have something left worth fighting for.”
Ariel’s voice cuts softly through the static in my ears. “Everett.”
Just my name, but it’s enough. The rage stutters, and I step back, releasing him, chest heaving.
He casually smooths his collar. “There it is,” he says, voice dripping with contempt. “Emotion. You’ll never survive in business with that bleeding heart of yours.”
I glare at him, my pulse still hammering. “Then maybe business isn’t what I want to survive in. You think this is a game I can’t win,” I say, surprising myself as a welcome calmness settles over me. “But I don’t have to win. I only have to call a press meeting and tell the truth.”
My father smirks. “You can’t prove a story you invented.”
“Actually,” Kara says from the doorway, “we can.”
We all turn. Kara steps in, holding a tablet in one hand and a folder so thick it may have gravitational pull in the other.
“I’ve been watching you for a while,” she says to my father, almost polite.
“Last quarter, your ‘soil amendment’ subsidiary started placing orders that didn’t match any project timelines—too much volume, too fast, at odd hours.
Meanwhile, small spills surged up around inlets you’ve been courting for new contracts.
I assumed incompetence. Then I looked closer. ”
He laughs, but I can hear the uncertainty in it. “You looked closer, Kara? Who the fuck do you think you are?”
“I’m the person you employed to protect this company’s interests, even if it meant protecting it against you,” Kara says coolly.
“As I was saying, I looked closer. Used drones. Thermal, night-vision. I witnessed dump runs at two a.m. into protected coves. The same trucks showing up on both your shell company’s invoices and the ‘independent’ contractor rosters for cleanup.
I have emails, Ev,” she says, glancing at me with an apology in her eyes.
“This was the ‘project’ you were working on,” I state, remembering interrupting her the other day.
She nods, and her expression softens. “I’m sorry I couldn’t say anything before.
I wanted to be sure, considering who was behind it.
” Her eyes harden as they return to my father.
“He approves the spending, then bills the cleanup at a premium while calling it community service. He manufactures crises to sell salvation.”
My father’s face freezes before morphing into fury. “You are out of your depth, little girl.”
Kara opens the folder and fans out glossy prints like cards—license plates, timestamps, metadata glinting under the office lights. “The Attorney General’s Environmental Crimes Task Force will decide what it shows,” she says. “I sent them copies an hour ago. They’re in the lobby.”
“Those pictures will show legal waste transfers. The emails will show nothing unusual,” he splutters. “You have no idea what you’re accusing me of.”
A brief knock on the door precedes the entrance of two agents and a uniformed officer with rain on his hat brim. They say names and agencies, voices neutral and professional, and then the words every crime like this requires: we have a warrant.
My father’s laugh is an icy bark. “You’re making a mistake,” he says to them. “This is a board-level dispute.”
“This is an evidence-level situation,” the older agent says, stepping past me to hand over the paperwork. “We’ll let the board know where to send your counsel.”
For a second, I think he’ll run. Then the reality of his mistakes closes in around him. He turns to Kara and snarls, “Why?”
“Because I care about the water,” she answers, and the simplicity of it fills my chest with fierce pride. “Because you forgot what the company is for.”
They read him his rights. He listens, impatient and tight-lipped, eyes flicking over the room like a trapped animal.
As they step him out, he turns to me. “You think you’ve won something,” he says. “But all you’ve done is burn the inheritance that would’ve kept you warm into old age.”
“I haven’t burned anything worth keeping,” I dispute. “And I’d rather be cold than dirty.”
He holds my gaze for several seconds before turning that look on Ariel as if he wishes he could set her on fire. She doesn’t flinch. The door closes behind him and his “escorts,” and silence reigns.
Kara exhales a long, shaky and gives me the barest smile. “So,” she says, “are we done pretending?”
“Yes,” I say. “We’re done. Thank you, Kara.”
She nods. “Thank you for trusting me, Ev.”
I smile. “Always.”
Ariel moves forward to hug Kara. “Thank you,” she breathes. “For everything.”
Kara squeezes her tight. “I’m so glad you came into our lives.”
Tears shine in Ariel’s eyes as she pulls away. “Me too.”
Her hand finds mine, fingers cool and sure. I look at her. She looks at me. The room, the rain, the mess—we stand inside all of it, and somehow, I know it’s made us stronger.
“You okay?” I ask her.
“No,” she says, honest and soft. “But I will be.”
I look at Kara. “This company is yours now.”
Her mouth drops open. “Ev—”
I hold up a hand, stalling her. “You’ve earned it. It’s always been more yours than mine.” I look at Ariel. “Besides, I think I’m gonna be busy keeping my future wife happy for the forseeable future. If she’ll have a disowned son without an inheritance.”
Ariel’s eyes shine with love as she looks at me. “I’ll take you any way I can have you.”
I pull her close and whisper so only she can hear, “Any way? I’ll hold you to that later, my little water nymph.”
Kara makes a sound of disgust. “Okay, get a room, you two. Or better yet, a boat.” She lifts the folder. “I’ll meet the board in thirty. I’ll tell them you’re resigning, Ev, and I’ll accept interim control, make sure you have a generous payout. We’ll put real cleanup first. No more theater.”
“Good,” I say. “I know you’ll do a great job.”
Kara glances at Ariel, then back to me. “Take the day.” She smiles. “Take your life.”
We leave the office together. Outside, the rain has gentled to a steady sheet.
In the car, we sit with our hands laced and the engine off.
“What happens now?” Ariel asks.
“Now,” I say, “we build the world we want.”
“And the lake?”
“We guard it,” I say. “Kara will rewrite contracts and vet partners. We’ll set up a citizen’s watch, fund independent testing, post the data for the public.” I tilt my head, watching her watch me. “And when your father looks up, he’ll see we’re not the enemy.”
She nods. A small smile that’s more relief than joy tucks into her mouth. “There might be a way,” she says. “To bridge the boundary. If the Council believes humans can be trusted to protect rather than destroy.”
“We’ll show them,” I say. “Every day.”
She leans across the console, curls a hand in my shirt, and kisses me, her tongue tangling with mine. When she pulls back, her eyes are as blue and bright as the shallow coves she came from. “I love you,” she murmurs. “I’m choosing you again. I’ll always choose you.”
“I love you. Always,” I say, because I’ll never get tired of telling her.
Outside, the storm breaks apart over Fable Forest, leaving the air washed clean.