ROMAN #3
The silence that follows is loud as every single one of them turns their attention to her. Their gazes drag over her face, picking her apart piece by piece as they assess who she is, and whether they believe her.
“I was there,” a quiet voice cuts through. “When it happened. I… I was forced to watch it.” Robyn’s voice fractures as her eyes lift to Fae, and the look Fae gives back is almost motherly.
“Fisher is my dad,” she continues, still looking at Fae as her fingers twist in the hem of her jumper. “He took me a month before that. Moved me from place to place… for training.” Her bottom lip trembles as she forces the words out. “One day I woke up and Fae was there.”
Her breath stutters and the tears fall unchecked, “he was brutal… and I couldn’t do anything.”
She finally turns toward the men, with tight shoulders and glassy eyes.
“I couldn’t do anything,” she repeats. “I was tied up and forced to watch whilst my father raped my friend for ‘correction’. Every other day it was a beating or a rape. If it wasn’t her, it was me and I-I couldn’t do anything. I couldn’t save her. I didn’t… I didn’t save her.”
Her voice gives out completely as the last of it turns into a wail, and Felix is already dragging her into his lap as her sobs tear through the silence of the room.
Riggs looks like he’s about to lose control as his stare locks on his dad.
I know exactly where his head is, I can see it in the way his hands shake and the way the colour drains from his face, because his sister is in that story whether anyone says her name or not.
I’ve heard all of this before, every detail, every piece of it, but it doesn’t dull hearing it again.
The anger still burns through my chest at the thought of what they did.
A doctor, someone you’re supposed to trust, twisting their power into something unrecognisable.
My father, a founder, a man who stands in churches and all it was was a smoke screen for his monsters.
I lean forward, placing the files down on the table with enough force to cut through the moment.
“Everything you need is in there,” I growl. “Financial records. Transactions. Witness statements. Names. Locations. You name it, it’s in there.”
They don’t move straight away. Then, one by one, they lean forward, each of them reaching for a dossier.
The only sound is the quiet turn of pages and Robyn’s soft, broken sobs bleeding through.
My palms sweat as I drag my teeth over my lip, trying to steady the way my heart is pounding against my ribs.
Fae leans into me as her hand finds mine.
Out of the corner of my eye, I can see they’re still reading, low murmurs passing between them before the questions start coming.
They keep it controlled, almost casual, but there’s intent behind every one of them.
We answer how we agreed we would. Felix handles the operational side, Atlas takes anything technical, Victor covers tracking.
Riggs and I stay quiet unless it’s directed at us, letting the information land clean instead of muddying it.
They turn to the girls more than I like, pushing, testing, trying to find cracks, but Fae holds her ground with a calm that doesn’t match what she’s saying.
She doesn’t falter, doesn’t over-explain, just gives them what they need and nothing more.
Hazel does the same, stronger than I’ve ever seen her, and for the first time since we walked in here my lungs feel lighter.
I always knew I’d take my father’s seat one day.
That was never in question. I just thought it would look different.
I thought it would be handed over, after I earned it and he guided me.
I thought he’d be someone to lean on when it got heavy.
Instead, I’m standing here ready to rip it from him with both hands, knowing there’s no way back from it once I do.
It feels like stepping off a high bridge without knowing where I’m going to land.
Eventually, Parson sits back.
“Let’s vote,” he declares.
My heart twists, but I don’t let it show as I scan the men in front of me. Harding rises first and the look on his face makes my stomach drop. It’s not uncertainty. It’s intent. He doesn’t want me in that seat, whether it’s because of me or because of my name, I can’t tell.
“Nay,” Harding states, and I hear Fae’s breath catch beside me.
“Nay,” Bates follows, and I tighten my grip on her hand beneath the table.
“Aye.”
My eyes snap open to Parson, Atlas’ dad, and the smallest shift of relief hits me. I glance at Atlas to see his shoulders easing.
“Aye,” Snider adds.
“Nay,” Simmons says, still standing. “Sorry, son, but you’re too young. This isn’t about whether I believe you. It’s about what’s best for The Company, and you’re not even a graduate yet.”
He sits and I grind my teeth. What’s best for The Company? A man like my father running it is best, is it?
“Aye,” Buckley says, and the numbers even out again. Riggs’ shoulders drop beside me as his dad meets his eye with a small nod.
“Aye,” Lawson adds.
My pulse spikes.
Four to three.
There is only Victor’s dad left.
We all watch as Strickland stands, and I hold my breath. Every other father has backed their son. Hope pushes in, and beside me Fae shifts as her hand tightens in mine like she’s thought the same thing. Strickland exhales slowly, his gaze moving to Victor before settling on me.
“Nay,” he says, dropping back into his chair with a small shake of his head.
My jaw locks as Victor is already on his feet. “You son of a bitch!” he barks. “Girls, Dad. Girls as young as ten. What about Mum?”
“You’re speaking out of turn, Victor,” Strickland snaps as he glares back at him.
“No, you—”
“Enough.” The crack of Snider’s fist against the table cuts through everything, silencing the room instantly. “In the event of a tied vote, the wider council will be consulted. This is not over. We will reconvene in a month—”
“A month?” Riggs chokes with disbelief laced through it. “A month? He could have killed us by then.”
“Look,” Snider exhales, pinching the bridge of his nose, “it’s not ideal, but—”
The door opens, cutting him off mid-sentence, and every head turns at once.
My breath catches as my mum steps inside.
Her head is high, her shoulders back and she is dressed in sharp red that cuts through the room like a warning.
Her makeup is flawless and there is not a single hair out of place.
She barely looks at me, just a quick, dismissive flick of her eyes, and my stomach drops hard.
What the fuck is this?
“Hello, boys. You started without me?” she purrs, her attention drifting to the men as my brain scrambles to catch up with what I’m seeing.
The woman in front of me isn’t the one I know.
The soft, flour-dusted mum who moves around the kitchen in bare feet is gone.
In her place stands someone colder, sharper, someone who looks like she could break men without thinking twice.
Was she playing me too? Was she working with him all along?
My mouth hangs open as I turn to Fae. Her hand is clamped over her lips, tears already filling her eyes.
“Ah, Fiona. You’re late,” Harding says, adjusting himself as he leans back.
A familiar anger crawls up my spine as she walks past us, stepping behind the table and taking the seat my father should be in.
“Not too late, I hope?” she says, flashing Harding a look as she settles in, completely at ease.
It’s with that look that I realise… It’s over.
It’s fucking over.