Chapter 30
DARCY
M y heart is pounding, and even though I book on the first flight out, I’ve still got two hours of spiraling before we’re finally in the air.
This is a disaster. The stuff my nightmares are made of.
Father spent thirty years running this company solo, and within months of me being in charge, the entire thing could crumble.
Didn’t care about that when you wanted to fuck Wren though, did you?
I brush the thought away, barely able to deal with one problem, let alone two.
The thing is, I’m running on panic—pure, blind panic driving me from the office, home to pack a bag, and then through security at the airport.
My thoughts are mush, and I’ve never felt so wholly out of control as I do now, but even when I remind myself that I need to be logical, need to be solutions focused, there’s a block in my mind stopping it from happening.
And I don’t think my panic is stemming solely from Junior’s fuckup.
I think, deep down, some part of me always knew things would blow up in my face.
Even before Wren, the threat of people unraveling my lie was enough to keep me in line.
Now, faced with a scandal that could cost MediaCorp millions and potentially end up with my brother behind bars …
I’m claimed by paralyzing fear. Fear that’s stopping me from making a decision, even as the weight of a thousand things needing to be addressed sits heavily over me.
When I’m finally hidden away in first class, strapped into my seat and unable to give in to the urge to move , it occurs to me that this is probably a panic attack.
Throat too thick to swallow, weight bearing down on my chest, the need to cry is almost overwhelming, but I refuse.
Instead, the pressure behind my eyes builds and builds until a headache grows behind my eyebrows.
I order a glass of wine and tip the whole thing back in one long gulp, but it doesn’t help.
Whoever said alcohol can help calm your nerves was either a dirty liar or full of shit.
Needing to do something, I text Junior that I’m leaving and hear nothing back.
Which isn’t a surprise when he’s probably curled up in a corner somewhere, bathing his regret in expensive whiskey.
With the reminder that everything is up to me, everything is on my shoulders, the panic tries to take over again. I lean forward on my knees, fingertips driving into my temples, and remind myself to breathe. I can’t fix anything if I’m dead.
I always knew my instincts about Junior were right.
Dad was right. There is no way in high heaven he can run this thing.
Tobias isn’t a great option either because he’s young and hasn’t finished his MBA, but maybe someday in the future …
I can’t stake everything on a maybe. On a one day .
If ever I needed the wake-up call that what Wren and I are doing has very real consequences, this is it.
What’s my endgame there?
What exactly am I hoping to achieve?
Best-case scenario, we get to be together as a secret for the rest of our lives. And even if, by some miracle, I outlive my younger brothers, MediaCorp will go to their children, who will probably all be as bad as them.
I can’t exactly settle down and start a family with “Uncle Wren.”
“ Fuck .” My fist thumps the wall beside me, and a flight attendant appears in the opening to my pod.
“Is everything okay, sir?”
“Fine.” I force a smile that I’m sure convinces no one and run a hand over my wayward hair. “Apologies for the outburst.”
Her eyes are still wary, and I’m sure she’ll be letting the others know to look out for me.
Pull yourself together, moron.
I’ve been trained to handle this. To manage my way through it. The best thing I can do is stop this thing from snowballing. I need to put safeguards in place and do everything I can to protect MediaCorp. It’s my only goal in life. Literally the very thing I was raised for.
When it comes to Junior and Wren, they have to understand that.
I’ll do whatever I can to keep my brother safe from the fallout, but in a choice between MediaCorp and him …
I don’t know how to do anything but choose Father’s legacy.
Grandfather might have started this company, but Father grew it into the billion-dollar conglomerate it is now.
It goes to show how much impact one generation can make.
Please don’t let me be known as the person who brought down our empire.
I owe everything to Father. My life, my job, my upbringing … fuck, even Wren. If he hadn’t chosen Mom all those years ago, we would have been homeless, disowned. Would she have kept me? I try not to speculate about it too much, but Mom’s not a fighter.
I know the answer to that question, even if I don’t want to think about it.
So no matter Wren’s thoughts on Father, what kind of thanks would I be giving him to run his company into the ground? The pain over losing him comes back fast and acute. At least with him here, I knew I’d always have backup. I knew there was someone to rely on when I screwed up.
Like Junior can rely on you ?
My eyes ease open as that thought crosses my mind. I called him a fuckup. How would I have felt if Dad did the same to me? How would I have grown and learned if I was too scared to make a mistake?
I mean, this is a big mistake. And Junior definitely deserves a dressing-down for not listening, but … after. We need to fix this. Then I go to town on handing him his ass.
Junior’s fuckup or not, this is on me. I open my laptop and send out a company-wide comms to put a freeze on expenditures.
Hopefully, I can lift the restriction later today, but until I know what the damage is, I can’t risk making the problem worse.
This might put my magazine acquisition at risk, but I’d rather that fall through than everything else.
I busy myself writing a list of steps to take as soon as I arrive.
The first thing is to apologize for my outburst, and out of the entire list, that’s probably going to be the hardest. My relationship with Junior has always been rocky, and showing nothing but strength has always been my way of dealing with him and keeping him in line.
Eating my words, taking that split second of vulnerability, is going to be painful.
By the time we land and I finally get on my way, I’m tired, sore, and my stress headache has only grown. The panicky feeling is low though, held back by sheer stubborn determination.
When I pull up at the office, it’s past midnight, but Junior is exactly where I’m expecting him to be. Curled up on the floor behind his desk.
What I’m not expecting, though, is the paperwork strewn around him or the laptop open on the floor with Wren’s and Tobias’s faces on the screen.
Junior glances up as soon as I enter. His cheeks are red, and the second he sees me, new tears spring to his eyes. I’m reminded of when we were younger and he’d hurt himself but do everything he could not to let on.
I leave my suitcase by the door and drop my laptop bag on the desk.
“You’re not a fuckup.”
Junior’s eyebrows bristle, and he scrubs at one cheek. “What?”
“You’re not a fuckup. Don’t get me wrong.” I wave a hand over the papers. “ This is one hell of a fuckup, but not you.”
“How tanked did you get on the plane?”
“Not nearly enough.” I sit beside him, and the second I can be seen by the screen, Wren’s face breaks into a gut-curling smile.
“Took your time.”
“Forgive me for not hijacking the plane and putting my foot on the gas,” I throw back. “What are you doing?”
He holds up a binder so I can see it. “Helping. The legal team are here, and we’re in the process of pulling every second of communication between Junior and Westom Holdings.
We have your report and directive to decline working with Westom.
Thankfully, you didn’t mention that you had a hunch this was a ploy, though, because that would have been the nail in Junior’s coffin. ”
“Or the lock on his prison cell.”
Junior flinches at my words.
I take a breath, and way too much oxygen floods my brain, but … “What’s happening here?”
“Wren tells us it’s something called teamwork ,” Tobias snarks. “Family looks out for each other, right? Apparently, you shouldn’t have to deal with this solo.”
“Right.” I clear my throat, worried I’m about to start crying alongside Junior.
When Wren first showed up at Father’s funeral, my first thought was that it was the secret that would ruin everything. Father told me he wanted Wren involved in MediaCorp, that it was his inheritance, his place too. Did he ever actually say it was because he didn’t want Junior to be in charge?
Maybe that’s not what Dad meant.
Is it possible that Dad knew exactly the kind of man Wren is? That he’s everything my brothers and I aren’t?
The more I think about it, the more it makes sense.
Father wanted Wren to bring us together.
So how do we continue our relationship, knowing it will just tear us all further apart?