Chapter 2
PIERCE
The morning unfolds just like every other day, a comforting routine I’ve perfected over years of working in the corporate world. Arrive early, leave late, and get the job done better than someone else would.
My car glides into its designated spot as the dashboard clock approaches seven.
I spent years working for my father’s company, yet as the Van Stern Enterprises building rises before me, its glass facade reflecting the morning light, it somehow feels more like home than my old office at Dellcourt Holdings ever did.
The security guard nods as I pass through the lobby. “Good morning, Mr. Dellcourt,” Frank says with his usual crisp greeting.
“How’s Sarah doing with her college applications, Frank?” I ask, pausing briefly at his desk. His weathered face brightens at the question.
“She got into her first-choice last night, sir. Full scholarship.”
“Yale’s lucky to have her. Give her my congratulations.”
“Will do, Mr. Dellcourt. Have a good day, sir.”
I continue toward the elevators, already running through my scheduled meetings in my head.
Fiona looks up from her desk as I approach, her hair perfectly coiffed as always.
She’s been my personal assistant since I started here, and with her long career of working for previous CFOs, she’s been a lifesaver.
The thought of her retiring next week to help her daughter with newborn triplets has given me heartburn more than a few times.
“Good morning, Mr. Dellcourt. Your coffee is on your desk with your schedule for today and the notes you asked for yesterday.”
“Thank you, Fiona. I’m going to miss having you anticipate my every need.”
She adjusts her glasses with a knowing smile. “Well, someone has to keep you caffeinated and organized. I’ll be thoroughly training your new assistant on your coffee preferences. Though I can’t promise he’ll have my touch with the espresso machine.”
The thought of change makes my jaw clench, but I manage a polite nod before continuing to my office.
My new assistant started three days ago, but I haven’t met him yet.
He’s been rotating through different departments at my request, learning the intricacies of each division to better serve in his role.
My office is exactly as I left it, each pen perpendicular to the desk edge, the two monitors angled toward each other, not a paper out of place.
Part of me wants to knock everything onto the floor and bring some chaos into my life, but a more sensible part knows that doing what I want often has far-reaching consequences.
The door opens without a knock, and I don’t need to look up to know it’s Lior. “Your new assistant starts with you tomorrow,” he says, amusement coloring his tone. He leans against my doorframe, his presence disrupting the order of my morning.
“I’m aware.” My jaw tightens as I keep my eyes on the screen as it slowly comes to life. Change is an unwelcome guest in my usually ordered world, especially when it comes with Noah’s fingerprints all over it.
I swear he lives to remind me that he’s the one Lior really fell for.
Not in the same arrogant way I would have done if the roles were reversed, but in a nice, kind way, such as personally recruiting for my personal assistant.
The guy doesn’t even work at VSE. He has his own, very successful PR agency that he runs with his younger twin brothers Lex and Adam.
“Noah personally recommended him,” Lior continues, as if reading my thoughts. “Says he’s got potential, just needs the right opportunity.” There’s something pointed in his tone that makes my shoulders stiffen.
I look up, finally meeting his gaze. “Was there something else?”
“Everyone deserves a second chance, Pierce.” His voice softens slightly. “You should know that better than most.”
“The Q3 projections are on your desk,” I say, deliberately shifting my attention to my computer screen. “I’ve highlighted the areas that need immediate review.”
But Lior doesn’t take the hint. He stays in his relaxed position against my doorframe, that knowing look still in his eyes. “Meatball’s a great guy, Pierce. Just…keep an open mind.”
“What kind of name is Meatball?”
Lior’s lips twitch. “It’s a nickname. You might want to ask him how he prefers to be addressed when he starts.”
“I certainly won’t be calling him Meatball.”
“As you wish.” Lior smirks and nods before heading toward his office.
I turn back to my desk, my eyes catching once again on the résumé Noah personally sent to my inbox. Unable to resist, I pick it up for what must be the tenth time in as many days, as if hoping its contents might have somehow reorganized themselves into something more professional in my absence.
The résumé looks like it was formatted by a drunk octopus with access to every font available since 1995.
Comic Sans mingles with Times New Roman in an unholy alliance, while the email address—disaster.artist@—stares back at me like a personal affront to business standards, leaving me wondering how literal it is.
Thatcher Edward Charles III has a name that spells lineage and a work history that reads like a cautionary tale.
Six months at Johnson & Associates, terminated after “innovative improvements” to the office coffee system resulted in a loss of over five hundred dollars’ worth of IT equipment.
Eight months at Meridian Corp, ending with what’s diplomatically described as a “mutual separation” following an incident involving a paper shredder and what appears to be a company-wide reorganization gone wrong.
The list continues, each entry more alarming than the last.
No less alarming is that Thatcher could have left these details out of the résumé, but instead he included them, like a proud display of his incompetency.
Lior said everyone deserves a second chance.
His eyes had held that same look they had months ago when I did the unthinkable, and he still forgave me.
My betrayal almost cost him his rightful place at the helm of the company his grandfather started, yet he not only put the past behind us, but he also offered me a job.
I don’t deserve his kindness or his forgiveness, but I can accept whatever he throws at me. Financial reports, business trips he doesn’t want to take, so he can spend time with his new husband, or personal assistants with questionable references. I’ll take it all with gratitude.
I put the résumé back in my drawer and focus on getting ready for the board meeting later.
My phone’s ringtone cuts through the silence in the office, and I notice two whole hours have passed. My brother’s name flashes on the screen, and my stomach tightens. I consider letting it go to voicemail, but it’s worse not knowing what the fuck he’s up to right now.
“Pierce.” James’s voice drips with false warmth. “How’s life among the common folk?”
“What do you want, James?” My fingers drum against the desk.
“Can’t I check on my big brother?” The word “brother” slides off his tongue in a way that shows exactly what he thinks of my place in the family. “Though I do have a proposition.”
I don’t want to hear it. In fact, the less I know about my brother’s schemes now that I no longer work for the family company, the better. But I also know he’s a snake. After all, we both learned from the best.
“The board is pushing for a global distribution deal with VSE. You know it would be incredibly profitable for Dellcourt Holdings. But Lior’s father was always a hard one to do business with, and it seems the trait runs in the family.
Lior isn’t cutting us the deal we need.” There’s a pause, and when James speaks again, his voice turns sharp and accusatory.
“You were supposed to handle this, Pierce. You were supposed to marry into VSE and secure a merger. Instead, you failed the company. You owe us.”
I straighten in my chair, anger building inside me.
“No,” I say firmly. “I don’t owe you anything, and I’m certainly not jeopardizing my relationship with Lior for a business deal.
Whatever arrangement you have in mind, you can forget it.
Find another way to get your deal because I’m done being a pawn in Dellcourt’s corporate strategy. ”
“Work with me,” he continues, ignoring every single one of the words I’ve just said, “and you could be welcomed back at Dellcourt with open arms.”
“I’m not sure why you assume that’s something I want, James.”
“Your little experiment with Lior won’t last. When it falls apart, and it will, remember who your real family is.”
The line goes dead before I can respond.
My reflection in the computer screen looks tired, the silver in my hair more pronounced against the black.
My eyes drift to the wedding photo on my desk.
Lior and Noah radiant in matching tuxedos, my smile tight but still more genuine than any I managed in years of family portraits.
My father’s words whisper from recent memory: “You had one job. Secure the Van Stern merger through marriage. And you couldn’t even manage that.”
I straighten in my chair, gripping a pencil so tightly it almost snaps.
James may be right that I failed to marry Lior, but he’s wrong about one thing.
This isn’t an experiment. This is redemption, earned one careful decision at a time.
And if Noah thinks this Thatcher Charles deserves a chance, well…
I’m living proof that sometimes the most unlikely candidates can exceed expectations.
Too wound up to focus the way I like, I stand and walk to the window. Across the hall, Lior commands the conference room with easy authority, everything I once pretended to be and everything I’m still learning to become.
There’s one thing I’ve become an expert in over the last year: pretending that I’m in control.
So when the conference room beckons, I grab my folder and walk confidently into the meeting.
This is where Pierce Dellcourt makes no mistakes.
Life? Sometimes I feel like I’m failing the practice run.
Finances and money? This is where I excel.
But if I thought I’d have it easy, I am sorely mistaken. Board members’ questions come like arrows, each designed to make me stumble, to expose weaknesses in my work.
If I didn’t know better, I’d wonder if my brother’s influence has reached the most susceptible layers of the VSE board, but there’s no way James could have this much reach, so I stay professional even as I exchange a look with Lior.
His face remains neutral, but I know all his microexpressions. He’s annoyed that the board members still refuse to acknowledge him as the legitimate CEO of his family company because he refuses to be influenced by privilege and old money.
“These growth projections seem…optimistic,” says Richard Thornton, one of the older board members, his tone suggesting “delusional” would be more accurate.
“Perhaps we should discuss potential mergers,” suggests another one. “Dellcourt Holdings has expressed interest in a strategic partnership. The synergies could be quite profitable.”
The suggestion makes my jaw clench, and now I know James has definitely found a way in. I don’t know how he did it, but my gut tells me that this push from the board is more than just a good proposal.
Before I can respond, Lior’s voice cuts through the murmurs of interest with the authority of someone who’s already fought this battle and come out the winner.
“Under Pierce’s experienced accounting, Van Stern Enterprises has made more profit this quarter than in the entire previous year. I fail to see why we’d need to entertain merger discussions when our current strategy is clearly working.”
Thornton pushes forward anyway. “But Dellcourt Holdings offers market expansion opportunities that—”
“What Dellcourt Holdings is offering,” Lior interrupts firmly, his expression hardening with unmistakable finality, “isn’t something VSE needs right now or is looking for. End of discussion.”
The meeting ends with grudging acceptance, if not quite victory. Back in my office, I keep my head buried in work for the rest of the day to stop the spiraling thoughts about James and his newfound influence with the VSE board from affecting my productivity.
It’s already dark out, and the open-plan office outside mine is empty when I check my calendar one final time before turning my computer off. Tomorrow, Thatcher Edward Charles III will walk through that door.
His résumé practically promises he’ll be bringing chaos into my carefully ordered world. But perhaps that’s exactly what I need—a reminder that sometimes the best things in life come from unexpected directions. Just like that night months ago.