Chapter 34
THIRTY-FOUR
David sat with his hands clasped, jaw set, his tie just a little too tight. Across from him, Dawn leaned back in her seat, tapping a pen lightly against the arm of her chair. Measured, calm, controlled.
This was who she was. She wasn’t any different at work.
She wasn’t a mother at home and chairwoman of the board at work.
She was always the chairwoman. Her warmth and affection calcified by tragedy.
His nervousness pitched higher. It wasn’t the board members with stiff faces that made him uncomfortable.
It was his mother. He was once again trying to prove himself. It was all he’d ever done.
“This isn’t personal, David.”
It was the first lie and first slap to his face.
Across the table, a man—gray-haired, three decades too comfortable in his position—cleared his throat. “We’ve reviewed the candidates thoroughly. The board has made its decision.”
David’s fingers flexed slightly against the table. “The board,” he repeated, eyes moving across the room. Half of them wouldn’t meet his gaze. The other half wore the faint, unreadable expressions of corporate survivors—people who knew when to stay silent, when to stay clear of the blast zone.
Dawn’s lips curled slightly, not quite a smile. “It’s not about your qualifications or your commitment to the company. You are valued.”
Another lie.
He sat back, exhaling slowly through his nose. “Then what is it about, Dawn?”
A silence stretched, just long enough to make it clear she wasn’t going to answer. She didn’t have to.
Instead, it was Landers, one of the younger board members, who finally spoke.
“It’s about stability.” He shifted uncomfortably.
“Things have been in flux with the product launch indefinitely delayed, our company reporting losses this past quarter again , and the stock price down nineteen percent this week alone. We can’t be seen to be making too many changes. ”
There it was. An excuse disguised as corporate diplomacy.
He gave a slow nod, jaw tightening. “Right. Because when something isn’t working then a change in strategy is the last thing to try?”
Markson sighed like he wanted to get out of here before the valet shift changed. “This is final, David. We’re sorry.”
David turned his gaze back to Dawn. She was watching him the way a surgeon watches a patient before the first incision. And then there was the glint of I told you so . She loved inflicting pain on him, putting him in his place.
“You should be grateful, really,” she said smoothly. “This is me protecting you.”
He let out a short, humorless laugh. “You always were generous.”
The irony of Dawn protecting him when really it was the other way around.
He could let it slip that the product launch had been canceled not because it had failed quality assurance but because it had been stolen.
He could reveal how Dawn had lied to the board previously.
But the words remained stuck inside his mouth.
It was the power his mother held over him—and she knew it.
The meeting ended without ceremony. And just like that, his candidacy—his shot at real power—was gone.
By the time he reached his office, David was fuming.
He pulled at his tie, undoing the knot in one sharp motion. The office lights were dim, the city skyline stretching beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows. His reflection stared back at him. All he saw was a man who had spent his entire life being wronged.
His phone buzzed.
He let it ring once while trying to still the gibbering of his mind. Saliva thickened in his throat. This was the last thing he needed today.
“I’m doing everything I can,” David said, answering the phone.
The voice on the other end was curt, impatient. “How much more time do you need, Mr. Harrington? Because we’re running out of patience.”
“I know,” he muttered. “Just… one more week. One more week and everything will be in place.”
A pause. Then, without another word, the line disconnected.
Sweat beaded David’s hairline. He opened his laptop. A few keystrokes. A confirmation screen. His finger hovered over the button. It was a huge amount. Then, with a final press of a button, the wire transfer was sent. He typed a message.
I’ve sent more. You need to step up.
Across the office, beyond the glass walls, Dawn’s office was visible. She marched back inside, her posture stiff and proud. He watched as she reached into her purse, pulled out a small vial, and dry-swallowed two pills.
David was puzzled. But then a smile curled up his lips.
Lisa didn’t know who her husband was. She didn’t even know who she was.
Her life suddenly seemed completely foreign to her.
Her memories felt fabricated. Was anything real?
She sat in her living room, surrounded by the furniture she’d handpicked, in a house that she’d chosen as a newlywed many years ago.
Now everything felt infected and impersonal.
She resisted the urge to dig her nails into the walls and tear down this false life she’d naively constructed with Jim.
Her heartbeat was erratic, and chaotic thoughts swarmed her mind like a flock of birds. She caught her reflection in the mirror. Her face was bloated—a side effect from the treatments she was subjecting her body to.
The glass hit the wall before she even realized she’d thrown it. It exploded into a thousand jagged pieces, scattering across the hardwood floor. Rage, hot and consuming, climbed up her throat.
Her hand found the nearest object, a framed photo on the console table.
The frame hit the ground face down, the glass fracturing beneath it.
She stared at it for a moment, at the memory now shattered.
She spun round, yanking the lamp from the side table and hurling it to the ground.
The bulb burst in a violent pop, plunging the corner of the room into shadow.
It wasn’t enough. Nothing was ever going to be enough.
Her fingers fisted her hair and pulled at it. She sucked in a shaking breath and backed up against the wall. Her knees buckled, and she slid down the wall, her breaths coming too fast, too ragged.
“Lisa? Lisa!” Jim’s voice rang in her ears. She looked up and his worried face hovered over hers. “I’m so sorry.”
“Shut up!” she screamed. He froze. She was a rabid animal. “How could you? How could you?” She stood up and shoved him backward.
“Let’s calm down and talk about this rationally,” he said, backing off with his hands raised.
“You’re telling me to calm down?” Everything inside her burned. “You’re a piece of shit, Jim. And you know what, I’m glad that I didn’t get pregnant because I don’t want any part of you.”
Anguish was written all over his face. He dropped his hands to his side limply. “Nothing even happened between me and her. We didn’t sleep together. It was only?—”
“Don’t!” She whirled back round, unable to face him. Her breathing still uneven. She tried taking long swallows to calm herself. “Don’t downplay what you did. I was trying so hard, working long hours?—”
“Maybe that’s the problem,” he snapped. “I’m sick of you trying so hard and constantly rubbing it in my face, Lisa.
These past months, every moment with you, I’ve felt less .
” His voice climbed and quailed. “You’ve made me feel like a sloth, like a chump.
So yeah, I slipped for a moment because it felt good to get away from the constant stress of being around you! ”
She stared at him wide-eyed. “Are you seriously blaming me for being too supportive? You were the one who rejected plenty of opportunities because you thought you were too good for them.”
He dug the heels of his palms into his eyes and shook his head. “I’m sorry, Lisa. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“Nothing matters. You don’t matter to me,” she whispered, numbness silencing her churning thoughts.
He staggered back from her words like he’d been hit. With a curt nod and tight jaw, he stormed out of the house, slamming the door shut behind him. She didn’t care where he went, she didn’t care if he came back or not. Sobs raked her body as tears streamed down her cheeks.
The warning signs had been right in front of her. He’d been too disengaged. But she’d ignored all the signs and let them slowly carve into her like a blunt knife.