10. Edward
EDWARD
It has been several days since the night of the gala, and the silence from Noelle is deafening.
Outside of the single, encrypted email I sent suggesting a way to secure Graham’s personal bank records, there has been absolutely no communication between us.
We weren't exactly besties before we ended up naked on my settee, so it isn't as if we spent our free time blowing up each other's phones with casual texts.
But this sudden change feels different, strange.
It feels like I’ve quit an addiction cold turkey, and my system is struggling to adjust to the lack of chemical stimulus.
I find myself drawn to Noelle for reasons I still can't fully articulate.
That night was simply the moment my emotions finally came to a head.
Perhaps I had been spurred on by a temporary lapse in judgment or a sudden surge of liquid courage. Between the multiple glasses of champagne I downed while waiting for her to arrive at the ballroom and the neat scotch I nursed while preparing her a glass, I wasn't entirely sober.
But that incident had not been a mistake. Buzzed or not, I had wanted to kiss her, and things had only escalated from there.
Over the past few days, she has kept her distance under the guise of working from home.
It is glaringly obvious that she is avoiding me, but I am not entirely ready for whatever definitive answer she might offer if I push the issue.
So, instead of demanding clarity, I distract myself and throw my weight into work, channeling my focus into uncovering my brother’s financial fraud.
I tilt my desktop monitor to the side, clearing my line of sight to Zach sitting cross-legged across my desk, entirely absorbed in the glowing screen of his smartphone. His thumb taps the glass with methodical precision.
“What are you doing?” I ask, my voice flat.
“Wordle,” Zachary says, not looking up.
“You know you should at least pretend to be a serious employee when the chief executive is in the room, right?”
“Pretence and fear are for people who don't want to be found out.” Zachary’s thumb hits the screen again, locking in another row of letters. “I do my work. I have no need to fear or pretend.”
I can’t argue with that logic. So, I change the subject.
“Do you think there’s a legal angle we can work here? Jordan how much more a large corporate consulting firm? If J&J is nothing more than a shell company designed to siphon money into Graham’s pocket, they won't have the infrastructure to back up the lie.”
I nod slowly, a cold satisfaction settling into my chest. “And even if they manage to lease a physical building to masquerade as a real business, they would need active workers. Unlike the rotating team of one or three people they usually send over to our offices, they would have to show signs of a larger operation to justify their corporate scale.”
“And a boardroom!” Zachary adds, leaning forward.
“And a full, professional presentation prepared specifically for us.”
“Yes!” Zachary slaps the table in excitement, the sound echoing in the quiet office. “Until now, they have dealt exclusively and directly with Graham. Now, they have to prove their actual merit to the entire company.”
“And I could spice things up further by informing them that they will be pitching to the board of directors,” I say, expanding the trap.
“That legitimizes the entire process on your end if Graham starts to get suspicious, and it will cause genuine, unadulterated panic within their ranks.”
“Solid idea, Zach.” I reach across the desk and offer my hand.
Zachary takes it, his grip firm. “And that’s exactly why I’m not afraid of you.”
I snicker and pull back. “Get the formal paperwork ready, will you?”
“I need to actually know what we're pushing to draft the paperwork, Edward.”
“Right. Of course.” I tap my pen against the desk. “Whitmore Holdings will be making an aggressive expansion into the buy now, pay later market.”
“Okay.” Zachary nods, turning the compliance requirements over in his mind. “Have you got a working name for the product?”
“How about Cartly?”
Zachary shrugs. “Sure. Simple enough for the market.”
“But to us,” I say, a cold smile blooming on my lips, “it’ll be Project Icarus.”
Graham barges into my office by the close of the day.
The heavy wood doors swing open forcefully.
I flick my wrist, checking my watch just to be certain of the time.
My brother has almost never stuck around at the office this late, much less gone out of his way to initiate a direct conversation with me.
Usually, he’s already halfway through his first bottle of expensive liquor at some high-end lounge by now.
“Why didn’t you tell me we are branching out into soft loans?” Graham demands, storming across the room.
“We’re not,” I say smoothly, not looking up from the document I am reviewing.
“Bullshit!” Graham stops dead at the edge of my desk, slamming his palms down on the wood. “I just got off the phone with George. He told me all about Cartly, and he mentioned that you personally recommended J&J to consult on the project.”
“For one, buy now, pay later loans are not classified as soft loans, Graham.” I close the folder and relax into the backrest of my seat, meeting his furious gaze. “Secondly, aren't you happy that your friend’s firm continues to receive our business?”
“Whatever. That's not the fucking point!” Graham wags a finger directly at my face.
“Finance is my division. I am the Chief Financial Officer of this company. I should have been informed that the company was even considering such a massive project. Fucking George learned about a major Whitmore expansion before I did. I felt like a complete idiot standing there on the phone.”
“And you are. But I'm curious, what is it to you?”
Graham pounds his fist hard against the mahogany table, the glass pen holder rattling.
“Listen to me very carefully this time, Edward.
I'm the CFO. Cartly falls directly under my jurisdiction. I should be heading this initiative. I should have known about it at the absolute least before it was authorized.”
“And last I checked, I am the highest-ranked executive in this building.” I stand up slowly, letting the full weight of my presence fill the space.
I tower three inches above my brother, looking down at his flushed, angry face.
“So, the way I see it, you only have two options here, Graham.” I gesture broadly with both hands. “Suck it up, or suck it up.”
“Dad will hear of this!” Graham glowers, his voice rising an octave as his eyes narrow in a venomous glare.
“Oh, no! The man-child runs to daddy once more.” I chuckle, slipping my hands into my trouser pockets. “How incredibly original.”
Graham's fists ball tightly at his sides, his chest heaving as his breathing turns heavy and ragged.
Undeterred by his anger, I walk around the side of the desk, closing the distance between us until.
Then, I reach out and deliberately brush imaginary lint off his expensive designer lapel, using the small gesture to thoroughly humiliate him.
“Dad might back you blindly in private, Graham,” I say, my voice dropping to a whisper. “But I have the entire board of directors firmly on my side. And if you honestly think his words are going to count for shit after your recent public stunts, then you are even more deluded than I thought.”
Graham recoils violently out of my reach, his face turning a deeper shade of crimson. He aggressively smooths down his own lapels, trying to piece his shattered dignity back together.
“This isn't over,” he growls, then turns on his heel and storms out of the office, slamming the doors behind him.