Chapter 44 Helena #2
“Maybe so. But I would still do absolutely anything to protect him. Perhaps one day, when you have children of your own, you’ll understand.
” She took the folder from the seat and set it down on her lap.
“You’re an intelligent young woman, Helena.
Much smarter than your sister and, above all, much more loyal.
I’m going to give you the chance, here and now, to salvage everything your family has been building for decades.
All you have to do is end a relationship that you don’t even know is going to survive into next week.
” She gave me a penetrating stare. “It’s your decision. ”
I couldn’t deny it—what she’d said about my parents’ company frightened me.
As did the fact that Trish Coldwell was clearly not above taking extreme measures to break Jess and me up.
But I wasn’t going to take her deal. And not just because I felt something like hope for the future again, for the first time since Valerie died.
Not just because I was desperately in love with Jess.
But also because I didn’t trust this woman one inch.
She was manipulative; she was evil—and she had my sister’s reputation on her conscience.
No matter what she said, I would never believe a single word.
“Right, it’s my decision,” I replied in a firm voice, aware that the car had stopped near our apartment building.
Perfect timing. “And I’m saying no. My parents will find some other project to get them back in the black, I’m sure.
” And if things were really that bad, our net worth was still high enough that we’d be okay somehow.
My family was from a long line of forbears who were very good with money. They’d pull through.
Trish bowed her head slightly. “If that’s what you think.” Her lips twisted into a smirk that sent a shiver down my spine. She took a business card from her bag. “Call me if you change your mind. The offer stands until this evening.”
I wanted to refuse the card at first, but in the end I took it, and got out of the car without a word.
My hands were trembling and there was a knot in my stomach as I walked the block to the apartment building.
My conversation with Trish had drained all my strength.
What I wanted to do most was call Jess, but I knew he’d flip out the moment he heard what his mother had tried to do.
I wanted to be with him in person when I told him.
I threw the waffles in the trash can next to the entrance—I’d been holding them the whole time—and walked through the door the attendant was kindly holding open for me.
The elevator took forever to arrive, but when it finally did, it was mercifully empty.
I could really do without having to make small talk with the neighbors right now.
I dug around for my keys on the way up but needn’t have bothered—just as I stepped out of the elevator, someone came out of the apartment: Harold de Rosso, our family’s longtime financial adviser.
“Helena,” he said when he saw me, giving me a smile that did nothing to diminish the concern on his face. “Now that’s quite an outfit for broad daylight.”
“Yeah… it’s a long story. What’s going on, Mr. de Rosso? Is there something wrong?” There was no way he was here on a Sunday just because the coffee was so good.
His smile faded. “I’m sure your mother will be able to explain.”
Just then, Lincoln appeared in the doorway. “Len, finally! What took you so long? Get in here right now.”
I didn’t answer his question but nodded goodbye to Mr. de Rosso before hurrying inside. “Where’s the fire?”
My mother stood in the living room along with Dr. Gregory, our family doctor for the last few years. They were talking quietly but stopped abruptly when I came in.
“Thank you, Iris,” said Mom. “Also for your discretion in the matter. I’ll call you.”
The doctor nodded to me as she passed me on her way out. The door snapped shut, and I was left alone with Lincoln and my mother.
“Where’s Dad?” I asked in alarm. “Is he upstairs? Is something wrong with him?” Why was our doctor here, and why was Mom talking about discretion?
My mother and brother exchanged a glance. When I saw that, my last shred of patience disappeared. They had been hiding all kinds of problems from me for months, maybe even years. What else didn’t I know about?
“For Christ’s sake, will you tell me what’s going on!” I yelled at them.
“Your father is… he’s not here. He’s at Mount Sinai. He’s out of danger, but they have to keep him for observation for a few days.”
I gasped. “He’s in the hospital? Why? What happened?”
“We don’t know exactly.” My brother pursed his lips. “He didn’t come home last night; he stayed at the Mirage since he had a late meeting with some investors. But in the early hours of this morning, he was hit by a car two streets away. The driver said Dad just stepped out from nowhere.”
My mother’s nostrils flared, and I understood why—it was a horrible reminder of the moment I’d learned of Valerie’s death.
“How could that have happened?” I asked flatly.
“His blood alcohol level was critically high,” Lincoln managed to say. He was wearing a ratty old hoodie and hadn’t shaved. “He’s been unconscious till now, but the bartender said he was ordering one scotch after another, and at some point he just walked out.”
“Why would he do that?” I thought about what Trish Coldwell had said. Was it true? “Is it something to do with the Winchester deal? You didn’t get it?”
My brother looked at me in surprise. “How do you know about that? It’s still absolutely top secret.”
“I have my sources,” I said simply, and would have laughed at the cliché if the situation hadn’t been so horribly serious. “So it’s true? The deal fell through?”
My mother nodded, stone-faced. “Your father was still trying to fix it yesterday, but it was too late. Trish Coldwell got the contract.”
“And what does that mean for us?” I had to know the truth. I had to know if Jess’s mother was only trying to manipulate me. Because if it was true, then… No, I didn’t want to think about what it would mean for me.
Mom hesitated, but before I could argue again, she seemed to decide that the days of protecting me were over.
“It means we’re ruined, unless a miracle happens.
We went in too steep on an investment and had a few liquidity problems. After that your dad tried to turn things around with some share purchases, but there was an embezzlement scandal, and the group went bust. So we bet everything on Winchester.
We closed deals with suppliers and construction companies in advance so our pitch was more competitive than Trish Coldwell’s.
But it was no good. She kicked us out of the race, and now the money’s gone. Along with our reputation.”
“How could you have been so reckless as to put all your eggs in one basket?” I’d only ever known my parents as savvy business-people who would never have taken such a big risk.
At least before I’d gone to England—and that was probably part of it.
“It’s because of Valerie, isn’t it? You went up against Trish Coldwell because of her? ”
“The woman humiliated us, Helena!” my mother hissed. “In front of our friends, our business partners, the whole world. We needed a win against her to get back in the game. We did everything we could.”
And lost it all. I raked a hand through my hair and took a step forward, but my dress kept getting in the way. It was only yesterday that I’d turned up at Jess’s door with nowhere to go with my grief, but it seemed like years ago.
My mother’s phone rang, and she answered in a panic. She said a few words, Lincoln and I listening in tensely, before hanging up again.
“Your father is awake. I’m going to see him.”
“We’re coming too,” I said quickly.
“No.” She shook her head. “Just me for now.”
I could have screamed, the way she still cared about keeping up appearances. We were completely finished anyway; why couldn’t Lincoln and I at least go and see him in the hospital?
“Len, I know what you’re thinking.” My mother gave me an exhausted look. “But if your father really did walk into the street in a drunken stupor, he’ll be ashamed about it. It’ll be better if I go alone first.”
I said nothing, staying behind with my brother while she frantically got her things together and left.
For a long time we just stood there, and I realized Trish was right.
My family was right on the brink; my father had even taken a step over the edge.
We’re ruined, unless a miracle happens—that’s what my mother had said.
A miracle was what we needed. One where Trish Coldwell pulled out of the Winchester plot and let my parents have it.
“I should get changed,” I told Lincoln, who nodded, falling onto the sofa and closing his eyes in resignation.
“Sure, go ahead.” I could only hazard a guess at everything he’d been through in recent years, everything he’d sacrificed for our family. Not least his free will over who he was allowed to love. But maybe that was our lot. Maybe we Westons were simply destined to be unhappy.
For a brief moment I considered letting Lincoln in on everything.
Telling him about Trish’s offer and what she’d demanded in return.
But I knew it would only hurt him even more.
So I said nothing and went up to my room, closing the door behind me and leaning back against it.
I let out a deep breath, and all the emotions of the last few hours began to flood in: love, happiness, fear, hate, worry, sadness.
But I held them off, at least for a little while longer.
I had to be a Weston, had to function. So the name would live on in the future.