Chapter 23 #2
This time around, though, I recognize his promise for what it is: a Marvel movie. Same script. Different villain.
I’m not interested in playing the part of his superhero sidekick.
But I’m not above using the manipulation tactics I’ve learned from him and Malcolm to get what I want.
“Bran, if you really love me, give me time to fix the problems with Sanctuary,” I say in my romantic lead voice. “I would have already stopped what they’re doing if I’d known.”
Brandon scoffs. “You don’t have the power, Frankie. You’re a silent partner.”
His condescension raises the hair on my neck, and I have to bite back the words I want to say. Words I’ve held back for years.
But my silence gives him space to continue.
“That’s always been the problem, right?” Brandon says.
“You sign your name to something because you trust the wrong people. Then, when it blows up, you act like you don’t bear any responsibility.
You have to know what you’re signing your name to.
It’s not just your name on the line. It’s your integrity. ”
He’s given me this lecture before. When we were married. Before he published all the stuff about Malcolm.
“I kept your name out of the BIG story, Frankie. I can’t do it again.
That’s why Malcolm was able to come after both of us.
My integrity as a reporter was questioned because I didn’t say anything about your part in BIG.
” His voice doesn’t rise, but his words grow sharper, intended to hurt until he ends with a final jab.
“I tried to protect you, and you left me for it.”
His words cut, but I’ve grown a much thicker skin since leaving him.
“Is that your motivation? Revenge for my leaving?”
His breath is heavy on the other end. “It’s about doing my job, Frankie. That’s it. Nothing else.”
And for whatever reason—maybe his blatant hypocrisy—I decide it’s time I tell him the story I uncovered before I left. The story that left me shattered and questioning who I could ever trust again.
“Bran…I know about the money you got from Malcolm.”
He goes silent. I sink onto the stark white loveseat at the foot of my bed, not from the weight of what I’ve said, but from the relief of having let it go.
“Only to protect you and to get what was yours,” he stammers, sounding more desperate than believable. “I knew I wouldn’t be able to keep your name out of any more stories about Malcolm, but if I didn’t publish, I couldn’t get paid, and with Malcolm freezing your trust, we needed money.”
The more he says, the more convinced he sounds. Not convincing. I don’t believe him, but he believes himself by the time he’s done.
I let out a short laugh. “Yeah, nah. I don’t buy it, Bran. I reckon you saw an opportunity to make some money, and you went for it. Problem is, beyond breaking my heart, you let Malcolm believe I was part of your extortion attempt. That’s why he went after me full scale.”
He’s silent again, and I’m good with giving him a minute to let everything sink in.
“How long have you known?” he asks finally.
“About the money? Since the day I left you. Malcolm only just told me he thought I had a hand in getting money from him.”
“Why didn’t you tell me then? I could have explained if you’d given me a chance. Instead, you disappeared.” There’s desperation in his voice again. “You can’t trust Malcolm. He misunderstood me. I never said you had anything to do with the money.”
I watch the ceiling fan spin and try to sort out my thoughts.
He could be right about Malcolm misunderstanding, but it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t change the fact he used me for more than just money.
I can’t deny being in love with Brandon when we eloped. Or at least thinking I was. But he was also a way out of the relationship Malcolm was pushing me to be in with a business partner of his and, most of all, a way to hurt Malcolm for hurting me.
My relationship with Brandon was as transactional as my relationship with Malcolm. His series of articles about Malcolm were even more sensational because he’d fallen in love with the bad guy’s daughter while he was writing them, while the inside info the daughter—I—gave him, legitimized the story.
And I got to hurt Malcolm through Brandon.
Which didn’t fix anything.
Brandon’s articles didn’t stop Malcolm or BIG. I did. But hurting Malcolm only ended up hurting me more. Not just because of everything he paid to print about me, but because of the seed I’d planted. No beauty comes from revenge or hate.
If you sow hurt, you grow hurt.
I take a breath, then answer his question. “I didn’t tell you because I’d realized you manipulated me in the same way Malcolm did, and I knew you could talk me into staying. And I couldn’t, Bran. Not if I was going to be more than a pawn. Not if I was going to survive.”
“That’s a lot of big accusations, Frankie. And none of them fair.” For the first time in the years I’ve known him, Brandon lets anger slip into his voice.
I shrug. When my shoulders come down, a wave of relief rolls over me, taking with it the shame I’ve carried for years. Shame for trusting men I shouldn’t have. Shame over running from them. Shame for not being strong enough to stand up to Brandon or Dad.
I shed it all, like a thick winter coat that’s served its purpose.
Except the only purpose I can see for all that shame is that it drove me to Serenity Cove. And that’s where I found family. That’s where I found Cal.
“Don’t ring me again, Brandon. Don’t even think about contacting me. Not by mobile. Not by letter. Not by email. Not even by telegraph.” I push end, block and delete Brandon’s number, then sink into the couch cushions.
My hands shake. This is the first time I’ve really stood up to Brandon.
Hopefully it’s the last time I’ll ever have to.
But I’m grateful I had the chance to. Besides regaining another piece of the confidence I once had, I’ve had a bit of a revelation about Cal and what’s different about the way he treats me.
There’s no manipulation. Only support. Even when he thinks I’ve done something to hurt Serenity Cove and his family.
Then all I can think about is Cal trying to take Junie to the beach he grew up on and not being able to because of me. And Jo-Joe losing their contracts for avocados and beef while they’re still paying solicitor’s fees from fighting BIG.
I want to fix this. I want to erase the mistakes I’ve made that keep threatening people’s livelihoods and the town I’ve come to think of as home.
But it’s going to take money—lots of it. Money I don’t have.
Or, at least, money I don’t have access to.
Even if I did have access to my trust, I have no clue how liquid it is. Most of the money was put into stocks and other investments. I don’t even know how much is in the trust. There may not be enough to buy out the other partners in Wild Coast.
The only solution I can think of is to go to the one man who has the power and influence to stop what’s happening with Sanctuary. The same man, ironically, who set all of these problems in motion. And the last man on earth I ever thought I’d go to for help.
My dad.