Gregory
Chapter thirty
It was late in the afternoon. The building was growing quiet, the sun setting over the city horizon. My tie was already loosened when I poured another drink. The amber liquid sloshed against the crystal as I leaned back in my chair, staring at the framed skyline across from me.
The papers on my desk blurred together. Projections. Revised projections. Investment tanks. Divesture of assets. All a part of Reid’s plan to fix everything. Rewrite the narrative. Be the fucking hero.
I downed the liquid, rage simmering under my skin as I welcomed the burn in my chest.
You’re losing control.
The door to my office opened without a knock. I didn’t bother looking back.
“You’re still here,” my father said.
His voice had that familiar tone restrained with a hint of caution. I finally turned in my chair as he closed the door behind him, his suit immaculate as ever, silver hair combed back, face carved from years of practicing stoicism while disappointment lingered underneath.
“Should I not be?” I asked.
He ignored that, as usual, and stood across from my desk. His gaze flicked to the empty glass in my hand, then away again. “You should go home,” he said. “Clear your head.”
I laughed under my breath and poured another drink. “That’s rich.”
“I thought we agreed you’d cut back,” he said.
“That was before he showed up.” Bringing the glass to my lips, I took another long swallow.
Raymond walked to the window, staring out at the city. “Perception matters,” he said after a moment. “Right now, Reid’s presence reassures investors, the board and the press.”
I stayed silent as I reached into the stack of papers and pulled out the folded article I’d been staring at for the past hour. I slid it across the desk toward him without a word.
Raymond skimmed it as he turned, his expression tightening line by line.
Kaufman’s Return Signals More than a Financial Revival.
The alcohol buzz in my mind began mixing with something darker as I stood.
“My fiancée… and son disappear to California with my brother,” I continued, pacing now, the words scraping their way out of my throat.
“She’s photographed at his headquarters.
Arriving with him at his charity gala. He’s showing up at soccer games, hospital appointments—” I laughed, sharp and ugly. “Playing house.”
Raymond’s jaw tightened. “Lower your voice.”
“Why?” I snapped, whipping my head around to him. “So no one hears how fucking embarrassing this is?”
He turned from the window, eyes narrowing as he glanced over at the closed door. Always trying to save face, always trying to hide the fucking truth from the world. “Gregory—”
“Don’t,” I cut him off. “Don’t say my name like I’m the problem here.”
Raymond exhaled slowly, the way he did when he was trying not to lose his temper. “You’re letting this get personal.”
“Personal?” I barked. “He’s dismantling my life in public—”
“Let’s not forget for the last three years you dismantled our lives. The family name tarnished, investments under, on the verge of bringing us to bankruptcy again.”
My jaw clenched. “He’s parading her around like she belongs to him. It’s insulting.”
“And now the relationship matters,” he said flatly.
I stopped short. “What?”
“Now,” he repeated. “You’re angry? Now you’re wounded? Now you want to act like Genevieve was sacred.”
My chest tightened. “She is—”
“She was convenient,” he interrupted. “And she tolerated you, chose you when Reid left.” The words landed hard. “Don’t stand there and pretend you cherished that relationship when you barely showed up for it.”
“That’s bullshit.”
“Is it?” he asked sharply.
Raymond stepped closer to me. I could see the rage simmering under his skin.
“When she needed you,” he continued calmly, “you were absent. When the board needed leadership, you deflected. When this company was hemorrhaging, you denied it… When she needed you, Gregory… where were you? Hmmm? Working late? Staying behind at the office and doing what exactly?”
My jaw clenched, his accusatory eyes glaring daggers into my soul. I answered, “Working.”
“Drinking,” he corrected. “Avoiding. Making decisions that could jeopardize everything we worked towards… You want to talk about humiliation?” he went on.
“I’ve spent the last three years explaining your mistakes away.
Apologizing for your oversights. Reassuring investors that my son isn’t incompetent. ”
I narrowed my eyes as he let out a bitter scoff. “And Reid walks back in and does in weeks what you couldn’t do in years.”
“And I’m sure you’re grateful he came back,” I pressed, stepping toward him. “Grateful the bastard son you shoved out the door is now saving your legacy.”
My father tapped on the newspaper, the smaller headline I’d ignored initially now in the light. “You have more important things to worry about than Reid fixing your mistakes… and I’m not going to be the one to pull you out of this mess.”
His eyes said enough, scrutinizing me without uttering another word.
But even as he stared, I realized what he already knew. The article didn’t just expose Genevieve with Reid. It exposed me with Cheryl. It showed the world what I’d chosen.
My father’s eyes glared daggers before he stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him.
My gaze dropped to the glass in my hand. The amber sloshing inside of it. The amount of times I’d poured myself a glass wouldn’t drown the noise. It was useless, pathetic.
Just like you.
I hurled it across the room.
The crystal shattered against the far wall, exploding into shards that skittered across the floor. Amber liquid splashed, dripping down the wall in slow, ugly trails.
My chest heaved.
I swept my arm across the desk, papers flying, folders hitting the floor. Projections crumpled under my shoe as I kicked the chair back hard enough that it slammed into the credenza.
“Fuck!” I shouted, the word tearing out of me raw and uncontained.
I grabbed another glass and threw it too. It hit the window and cracked, not enough to break through, but enough to spiderweb across the surface.
My hands curled into fists so tight my nails bit into my palms.
This wasn’t happening. This couldn’t be happening.
I was fucking losing it.
My eyes dropped to the mess on the desk, then to the photo frame near the edge.
Cheryl and the baby, Marissa.
She’d insisted I keep it there. So she feels included. Like that was the problem. Like the problem wasn’t the child wedged into the middle of a life already collapsing. And that everything I touched kept turning into something I couldn’t control.
I turned the frame face down hard. Could’ve sworn I heard the glass and wood crack under the force, but that didn’t matter.
I stood there for a moment, lungs still heaving, the room wrecked around me.
And slowly my thoughts started to line up.
Of course nothing made sense.
Nothing had since he came back.
If he hadn’t come back, this would still be manageable. The company, Genevieve, Cheryl, the baby…
I let out a slow breath, something close to relief settling in me for the first time all day. He didn’t have control of everything… not yet at least. But once I figured out how to get rid of Reid Kaufman, everything would make sense again.