chapter thirty-four
Wren
“What a mess,” Dad says as he pulls a pair of slacks and a polo out of his closet.
“Yeah, it’s like you haven’t even brushed your teeth yet,” I tease.
He shoots me a tired Dad look and goes into his bathroom to change. I sit on his bed while he takes a quick shower. I listen to the water running and stare at the picture of him and Mom on his nightstand. It’s my favorite picture of them. Dad had just proposed to Mom in an Olive Garden on Valentine’s Day. It was before he made his start as a mogul in the tech industry. She worked at a wildlife sanctuary and he was fixing computers. The picture is a grainy selfie taken on an old digital camera. Mom’s cheeks are rosy from crying and they both have the biggest, goofiest smiles on their faces. Now, as I look at it, tears fill my eyes.
Her loss isn’t recent, but her loss started this whole thing. It’s the whole reason I’ve been hidden away my entire life and guarded twenty-four seven. Losing her is inextricable from the decisions Dad made for my security. And now, as my security is being called into question, her loss feels fresh again. It’s been a while since I have cried about losing her, but right now it feels like I’m being forced to face that grief again.
I decide now that if I’m going to face grief head on and publicly, then I’m going to do it honestly. While he’s showering, I step out and flag down one of the public relations staff members, a woman named Sarah, who has her hair in a topknot. She looks like someone who will get the job done. I ask her for a printout of as many articles that have been posted since my reveal. Good or bad.
She smirks and hands me a manilla folder. “This is everything up to date as of fifteen minutes ago.”
I knew she’d be the one. I thank her and hurry back to Dad’s room. He’s coming out of the bathroom, dressed and looking more refreshed. Dad glances at me, to ensure I am still present and safe, before moving to the same picture of him and Mom I’d just been looking at. He touches the frame fondly before opening the drawer of his nightstand. He pulls out a small, clear cube. It’s the size of a ring box and I can see something inside. He gestures for me to sit in an armchair near the window. He sits in one opposite, both of us still quiet.
The cube is placed on the small coffee table between us. It’s solid, maybe resin or glass, and suspends rings and a blob of metal. I look at it and recognize Mom’s wedding and engagement rings fused together and Dad’s wedding band overlapping them slightly. The metal blob is ugly and looks like—I gasp.
“That’s the bullet that took your mother’s life,” Dad whispers.
I move away from the offensive cube with a scowl and tears.
“It’s upsetting to look at, yes,” Dad agrees, his voice tight. “But it’s important to our discussions today.”
I relax only slightly and use the collar of my button-down blouse to wipe my tears.
“Wren, I need to first start our conversation with an apology. I know life hasn’t been as easy as many would think our wealth affords us. And I know it’s because of decisions I’ve made and the prices I’ve inadvertently paid for us both. Your individual freedoms are part of that. I’ve always felt being claustrophobic and safe was better than dead. You have not felt that way, and I guess everything is about to be put to the test. I am sorry if my choices have made your life uncomfortable.”
“I’ve never not understood why,” I say and gesture at the bullet and rings.
Dad nods solemnly.
“I get it. Why would you risk losing me in the same way you lost Mom? It makes sense and I’ve always been very aware of that. But I don’t think I’m at risk in the same way she was. You were getting threats before she was killed. When was the last time you received a threat?”
“Wren, I receive threats every single day,” Dad insists. “I am one of the richest men in our country. That comes with the territory of being wealthier than the rest of our population. It doesn’t matter how much I donate, how much I give back, there will always be someone resentful and hurting. There will always be someone who thinks hurting me or my family will give them relief or more success.”
“Sure, I’m not saying we don’t need security in general. But let’s look together at all the recent articles posted since I got revealed,” I say and open the manilla folder.
Inside is the original article ousting me. Its tone is neutral, with minimal information and very little speculation. There are a few photos of me, clearly cropped from a photo where Gemma was the focus, and one with her and me together. To be fair to Gemma, the only time I was photographed in public was when someone had recognized her , so naturally she was in these photos. And naturally, there are articles questioning who we are to each other. There are articles identifying brands of clothing, makeup, and accessories I’m wearing in pictures. I’ve never been so unsure of my personal style as I am in this moment, but I flip to the next article. This one questions my role in Dad’s business and correctly identifies me as Wren Angelica, the charity coordinator at Taylor Industries. This leads to speculation and investigation on the publicly declared charitable donations Taylor Industries has made and pins my name to the person who does it all. It’s not just me working in that department, and I make a mental note to correct that.
We flip through a few more articles and see Sarah and the PR team have attached social media posts that have gained the most traction on multiple platforms, including QR code links to video posts. I use Dad’s phone and we watch all fifteen videos on various apps. There’s two that speculate something is wrong with me and that’s why I’m hidden away, and one says I’m a lazy princess. Part of me is offended, but I also know given the very little information they have of me, they are well within their rights to wonder something negative.
Overall, the reception is akin to finding out America has had a hidden princess this whole time. It’s giving Mia Thermopolis in The Princess Diaries. I used to make Hawk watch that movie over and over with me and told him it was his training material to watch Joe. I giggle at the thought and want to go get him to tell him the Queen is coming… to Grove High School.
“What are you laughing about?” Dad asks, looking at me like I’ve completely cracked.
“Just realizing how absurd this all is,” I say and shake my head.
“Well, I guess it’s as positive as we could ask for,” Dad says and scrubs his hands over his face.
“What are you thinking going forward?” I look out the window. I can’t see the crowds on the street from up here, but I can see the reflections of the police lights as they work to control the crowds. We should have the Sparrows bring down coffee and order lunch for them.
Dad is silent for some time. I know he’s thinking as he runs his thumb over his temple. “Well, my instinct is to put you up in a secure location. Somewhere in Europe, maybe. But I realize my instincts are purely fear based and selfish and how we got into this mess to begin with. So, my dearest daughter, what are you thinking?”
I smirk at his term of endearment and settle my eyes on him. He’s finally asking me what I want. Finally, considering my feelings. I will not waste this opportunity. “Security is important. I’ve never not thought that. And previously to being outed to the media, I would have said no more live-in, twenty-four seven Blue Jay. Use security for outings and special occasions. Door alarms on my house and panic rooms are fine. But now I’ve been outed, I think we can simply step down to unmasking our security and staff. That is the biggest thing that’s going to make people not trust us.”
“You know how I feel about that,” Dad says and shakes his head.
“Mom knowing Seamus and his family is not what got her killed, Dad.” I keep my voice gentle, but serious.
Tears well in his eyes and he looks away. “She spent her last minutes begging for his life, not hers!”
“Yeah, because she was a good person, Dad.” I try to keep the tremble out of my voice, but I fail. “That man had decided to kill them and nothing she said was going to change that. I believe if she had promised to hand over the entire company to him, he still would have killed her. When we make a statement, I’m sure the PR team is going to tell us we need to seem likeable and like good people. And having personal security that looks like bank robbers will not help.”
Dad rolls his eyes. “Many countries have law enforcement in masks.”
“Yeah, but not here . Do you know how often I have to buy people’s coffee or dinner because the masked, mountainous man behind me scared them?” I laugh. “Jay makes kids cry.”
Except our neighbor kids. They love him. But that’s not the point I’m trying to make.
“So, unmask Blue Jay and Hawk… and Crows and Sparrows?” Dad asks hesitantly.
“Yes.”
“For the purpose of not scaring people?”
“I think the word we’re about to hear a lot is ‘optics.’”
“You’re going to have to convince Hawk.”
“Well, I think I’ve already convinced Colton.”
“Who?”
“Jay.”
Dad groans. “Oh, Wren.”
“I love him, Dad,” I whisper.
“What?” Dad’s eyes are wide and hopeful. Not the reaction I was expecting after telling him I’m in love with my bodyguard, but I’ll take it. He reaches out to my hands and holds them tightly.
“I love him. And I want to be allowed to see him,” I say hoarsely around the lump in my throat.
Dad lets out a laugh mixed with a cry and pulls me into a hug on his lap. I feel both small and too big to fit on his lap at the same time. He kisses my cheek and my hair.
“You’re going to give me a heart attack with all this up and down today.”
“Well, crunch some aspirin, because your dining room looks like a war room.”