50. Time to Pay the Piper
WESLEY
The plane rideto Atlanta could go down in the record books because I had never zoned out so much during a flight. Nothing could cool the rage burning through me. A small part of me—the little boy inside who still wanted to believe his father loved him—tried to rationalize the money away. I had no concrete proof that Benedict Madden sent that money every month, but my gut told me I was right. Desiree didn’t know anybody else who would front that kind of cash.
We went straight to Madden Enterprises when the plane landed. I realized on the way there that I was still wearing the navy sweatpants and tight gray t-shirt I pulled on to sleep in the night before, but it wasn’t like confronting my father while wearing a suit would change the outcome. His secretary informed us he was in a board meeting and could not be disturbed. I walked right past her into the boardroom and proved her wrong.
Sixteen of the executives for our company sat along the long wood table, including Denny Carmichael, technically my boss in the legal department, and Elle Fielding, the only female and head of public relations. She was the mastermind behind all those paparazzi shots and TMZ reports because she very quickly realized how much our stock went up any time there was a Madden scandal in the newspapers. I got played like a fool my entire life.
For some reason, that fact, along with her presence for this moment, irked me today. I had to give her a show for the world to see.
“Wesley, we’re in a meeting!” my father yelled. He sat at the head of the table with a stack of papers in front of him. A screen behind him cast stock numbers and revenue charts for the board to discuss.
“Tell me it isn’t true!” I roared. My hands were already in fists at my sides, veins popping out along my forearm in restraint from knocking Benedict’s teeth down his throat.
My father cleared his throat, glancing around the room at the congregation of eyes on us. “Let’s schedule a meeting later. You’re clearly too emotional to talk right now.”
Way. Wrong. Answer.
“Did you know about my daughter?!”
Gasps broke out among the board, with whispers following. Elle’s eyebrows receded into her hairline as a triumphant gleam hit her eye.
My father turned a particularly hideous shade of puce. “Could you all excuse us for a moment, please?” he asked pointedly.
The room cleared in a matter of seconds, with the head of PR shooting me a meaningful stare on her exit. I hope she blasted this shit on every gossip blog within the next five minutes so that my father couldn’t blow off this conversation.
Benedict stood up and walked over to the bar cart, helping himself to a thumb full of scotch. “This kind of behavior won’t be tolerated, Wesley,” he growled. “You get entirely too worked up over things. You always have.”
“Yeah, Dr. Phil’s special is coming up,” I quipped. “Now what about my daughter.”
My father’s eyes darkened. “You should be thanking me. I saved you from ruining your life.”
Even though I expected it, the confirmation still left me dumbstruck. Instantly, I was a ten year old kid, watching his only parent leave the day before his birthday because dear old dad forgot and didn’t care. Benedict Madden had no regard for me. He truly didn’t understand what he had taken from me.
That’s why I didn’t hesitate to throw the first punch. Hell, I didn’t even reconsider the second or third. It wasn’t until I realized my father was huddled in the fetal position on the floor, blood trailing down the side of his head, that I thought maybe I had gone too far.
Maybe.
But then I remembered that I wasn’t there when Iris first entered the world. I never got to change a diaper or see her first steps. I missed her first day of school, her first dance class, her first recital. I never got to comfort her during a thunderstorm or check her temperature while she was stuck at home with the flu. She went to bed every night without a dad to tuck her in and scare away the monster in the closet.
And suddenly the ass whooping I gave Benny boy paled in comparison.
It took longer than I would’ve expected for security to arrive and pull me off him. Phillip might have blocked the door, though I had no proof. One of the officers moved to put me in restraints until Elle Fielding stepped inside.
“Just take care of Mr. Madden,” she instructed. “I’ll handle him.”
The officers picked Benedict up, his face bloody and bruised, and slung his arms over their shoulders. They dragged him from the room while Elle pierced me with a speculative stare.
“You’re not fucking spinning this for some story,” I barked at her. “That bastard knew I had a daughter and he kept her from me!”
Elle shared a look with Phillip. “And how much would you like to make Benedict Madden pay for that?” she asked.
“What?” I snapped. This was the last answer I expected.
She stepped forward and slid a flash drive across the boardroom table to me. “You’re not the only one who has suffered under the hands of Benedict Madden,” Elle told me quietly, examining her fingernails as she spoke. “It’s high time he was brought to justice.”
I turned to my assistant, holding up the flash drive. “What do you know about this?”
Phillip shrugged. “I’ve worked for your father my entire life. He’s the kind of guy who makes a lot of enemies.”
Nodding, I replied, “Then let’s knock him down a peg or two”.
It would take us hours to comb through everything on the flash drive. Elle had been amassing information on Benedict’s discretions against women, most of whom worked for him. Several former employees made allegations of sexual harassment and sexual assault, only to become suddenly radio silent. There was a thread to be unraveled in all the accusations, and my father was at the center of it.
Somehow Elle managed to get several classified financial documents, too. It looked like my father engaged in dirty dealing across the board, including fraud, tax evasion, and bribery. And we weren’t talking chump change; there was a paper trail for a quarter of a billion dollars that seemingly vanished into thin air.
“Get this over to our friends at the attorney general’s office,” I ordered Phillip. “Make sure they’re attorneys that aren’t on his payroll.”
He nodded. “What are you gonna do?”
“I’m heading back to River’s Run. It’s time this thing ended once and for all.”