33. A Press Conference
A Press Conference
Electra
" F uck, you look like a mourning widow," Rosalind pointed out, standing next to me in front of the silver mirror. I rolled my eyes at her, adjusting the lacy collar of my black dress.
"Sorry for this, Electra, but I have to agree with Miss Bitchy here," Peter said apologetically, checking my appearance. "You look like you're going to announce his death."
"Oh, c'mon," I sighed, hiding my pale face behind my cold, sweaty palms. I was dying from nervousness. The outfit was the last thing on my mind.
"You need to look calm, collected, and a little more appealing," Rose continued, wrinkling her nose. I watched her from between my fingers, almost groaning in frustration.
I had to admit that the tight black dress with lacy sleeves and a high neckline would be good if I attended a funeral, yet it matched my feelings perfectly.
Bastian's condition hadn’t improved, and much to my horror, the doctors were more often talking to us about possible brain damage and its consequences.
They stopped giving him sedatives, hoping he would wake up, but it hadn't happened.
He was officially in a coma, and no one knew how to help him.
"I'm none of those things, Miss Adeline," I whispered, straightening my spine. "Bastian may never open his eyes again. I'm sorry for not looking like an advertisement for a fun fair."
"You don't need to be looking like he's already dead either," she hissed, turning on her heels, leaving me in a small dressing room with a frowning Peter.
"Change that dress, Electra," he suggested gently, placing his hands on my shoulders and squeezing them in a supportive way. "You should present hope, not grief."
"How?" I breathed, tears falling from my eyes at least for the millionth time. "He is dying."
I burst into tears, loud sobs escaping from my mouth. Peter instantly hugged me from behind and pressed me against his chest, holding me tightly while the pain, sorrow, and fear were trying to tear me apart.
"Don't lose faith, please," he begged, doing his best to calm me down, but it wasn't much use.
In the back of my mind, I started to think maybe I needed medication.
Every minute was getting harder to live through; days seemed longer and darker.
I didn't see an end to this nightmare. The vortex of horrible things sucked me into their spiral, and I was drained from fighting it and from believing I would see a rainbow after the storm.
"Leave me alone, Pete," I whispered, wriggling to get out of his hold. He let me go, but he clearly disagreed with my demand.
"No." He shook his head resolutely, turning me around to face him. "You're not—"
"I need to be alone," I interrupted, stepping back from his massive frame. I knew he meant it well, and his embrace was comforting, but I needed to find the strength to face the world alone.
"Are you sure?" he asked, scowling down at me with concern swirling in his eyes.
"Yes." I nodded, quickly checking my watch. "I still have ten minutes. I'll be okay."
My reassurance didn't change the expression on his face, but after a few seconds of quiet hesitation, he finally left.
Releasing a deep breath, I raised my head and connected my eyes with the zombie in the mirror.
I wiped my wet cheeks and covered my ghostlike skin with another layer of makeup.
It was the best I could do to hide the fact that I was barely functioning after the news we received about Bastian's condition.
Tracing my gaze up and down my body, I must admit that Rosalind and Peter were right.
Releasing the tension by crying helped me see reality clearer, and I was tempted to slap myself for agreeing with Miss I-know-better, but she had a point.
I looked like I had given up, and I couldn't allow people who depended on Bastian to believe he was losing the most important fight—the fight for his life.
The entire holding and everyone involved would be in trouble if I failed. I couldn't let that happen. Bastian worked too hard for his success, and I couldn't allow it to be destroyed by our accident. I had to persuade the public that he was stable and improving, even when I disagreed with that lie.
It was Andreas’ strategy, and his family was united behind it.
I wasn't in a position to oppose their decision.
They approved the statement for the press, and my job was to sell it.
I just hoped I didn't look like I crawled out of my own grave.
It certainly wouldn't help me to give the impression of a loving girlfriend who was happy about her boyfriend getting better.
"Are you ready?" Andreas asked from the door, and I winced in shock. I was so lost in my thoughts that I didn't hear him walk in.
"To lie to the entire country?" I finished painting my lips with nude lipstick. "What other choice do I have?"
"It's not a lie," he objected, leaning against the door and crossing his arms over his chest. He wore a button-up shirt so white it hurt my tired eyes.
"So, it's a premonition. Are you a psychic?" I blinked a few times to clear my vision and turned to face an angry dragon. He wasn't breathing fire yet but was seconds from showing off his talons. Or, in this case, his sharp tongue .
"Stop with this, Electra," he warned, standing to his full height. I was barefoot, and he was towering over me like a mountain. "It needs to be done without the slightest mistake."
"I know," I retorted, annoyance evident in my voice. "But that doesn't mean I agree with it."
"Would you rather tell them what we know?" He narrowed his cold eyes at me, small wrinkles formed in their corners, making him look older than he was.
"We know nothing!" I spat, clenching my palms into fists. "The doctors know nothing!"
"Exactly!" he hissed, grabbing my arms and standing me still. I didn't realize I was shaking violently until he steadied me. "Do you think it's wise to spread panic? To tell them we have no idea what is going on or what will happen next? Is that what you want?"
"If it backfires, it'll be worse!" I countered, holding his hard glare. He was determined to handle this his own way, but I needed at least some reassurance that he knew what he was doing.
"Electra, I'll ask you a question." He let go of my arms, and his expression softened. I was afraid of what he was thinking. "What is Tesla without Elon Musk?"
I frowned, staring at him, totally confused. This conversation had taken such a rapid turn that my exhausted brain stopped working for a moment.
"What?" I peeped, hating my voice for sounding so thin and immature. And his lecturing tone only deepened my frustration.
"Answer the question, Electra. What is Tesla without Elon Musk?" he repeated, looking at me like I was some incompetent idiot.
"A company?" I answered hesitantly, shrugging, which earned a smirk from him.
"Of course, but would it be the same?" He strolled around me, sitting on the chair in front of the mirror.
While I was thinking about some clever response, he started to inspect my cosmetic bag and smell my perfume.
However, I didn't know much about Mr. Musk or his company besides the electric cars and his ideas about colonizing Mars.
"I don't know, Andreas," I sighed, my shoulders slumping. Talking to him always drained me of energy.
"Elon Musk is a brand by himself. He made the company the way it is, and his ideas, opinions, and sometimes irrational beliefs make it famous.
Tesla, without him, would never be the same as it is while he is the CEO.
" Andreas returned my belongings, turning to me while I was processing what he'd just said. "Do you understand what I'm saying?"
"Bastian is like him," I whispered, covering my face with my palms and scolding myself for being so stupid. I knew the basics. I understood he was important, but not so much.
"Derek, Frederick, and I don't have the knowledge or charisma to replace him," Andreas pointed out, standing up.
"We either tell the public that he is getting better, and we use that time to come up with a solution if he dies.
Or we can tell them the truth and watch it all crumble without any control. "
"What would he do?" I inquired, feeling lost. I had no experience with something like this. While I worked for Lena, there was a crisis at Thorn Enterprises, but the former CEO and the management handled it like pure professionals.
"His backup plan was always our father," Andreas answered, grimacing. "After Mom died, Dad could no longer take care of the business. It seems to me like he lost meaning in life."
"Maybe it would help him to return to work again," I suggested, buckling the strap on my shoes. "He would forget about the pain."
"Or maybe the environment would remind him of all the infidelities, lies, and mistakes he made," was Andreas’ cold response, and I stopped recommending anything. It was a sensitive matter, and with my family background, it wasn't my place to give advice.
"Will you be there with me?" I asked, avoiding eye contact with him, when I was finally ready. I felt ashamed of my weakness, embarrassment flooding my system .
"Look at me, Electra," he ordered, his deep voice similar to Bastian's, sending tingles down my spine. I raised my head. The expression on his face was so different from the blank mask he usually wore. "I won't leave your side."
I opened my mouth to thank him, but he was quicker than me, and before I could say a word, he destroyed the few seconds of calmness I'd gotten with the lecturing tone I grew to hate immensely.
"This dress is inappropriate," he stated, pointing at me. The other three were hanging on the closet door. "Take this."