Chapter 18
The elevator dings like a bell tolling my doom, sliding open to reveal a glass-and-marble hellscape that smells like wealth, litigation, and expensive lies.
Sanderson & Nicks, Indianapolis.
A palace built on billable hours and bloodlust.
Sighing, I step out, tugging my pencil skirt down my thighs for the fourth, or maybe four-hundredth, time today. It doesn’t matter. It still feels like I’m walking around in someone else’s skin. I don’t belong here, and I don’t know if I want to belong here.
“Good morning, Ms. Sanderson,” Cynthia says without looking up. Her voice is as crisp and dead as the red lipstick across her too-tight smile.
“Morning,” I murmur, forcing myself to sound pleasant so she doesn’t know I’m debating leaving this place and never coming back.
The second I step on the floor with all the desks, the whispers start.
“No. I couldn’t find the résumé on file. She just showed up and got the internship.”
“...I heard she doesn’t even want to be a lawyer…”
“Daddy’s little princess. What she wants, she gets…”
They don’t bother whispering softly. No. They want me to hear it, thinking that I didn’t earn it, but they didn’t grow up in my home. They weren’t judged against an impossible standard the minute they were born.
Being here—doing this—was beaten into me since I can remember. Hell, the only reason I’m here is because I was kind of blackmailed into it.
But if I’m going to do this, I’m going to make the most of it.
Squaring my shoulders, I lift my head up and smile because I can’t let them see that I agree with them.
When I get to my workspace, I pull the chair out and sit. No photos. No decorations. I don’t want anything on this desk to identify me as Honey. After the last year, I’ve learned how important it is to keep myself to myself. If I try anything else, I end up as gossip.
“Honey! Perfect timing.” Gary Weiss stalks toward me, waving a stack of papers in my direction. He’s one of my father’s pets and won’t let me forget it.
“These need to be reviewed for inconsistencies by noon,” he says, dropping the papers on top of the stack already on my desk. “The Robertson case is heating up.”
I take in the files, hiding my fatigue behind a polite nod. “Of course. I'll get right on it.”
“That's why we love having you here,” Gary says with a wink and an overly friendly smile. “Always so…willing to please.”
I refuse to let my lip curl and hide it through a fake grin. The idiot asked me to do something on “Daddy’s orders” last week and I wanted to sink in a hole and die. Unsurprisingly, no one in the room cared because they all believe it.
I straighten the stack of papers and settle into my seat when my phone buzzes.
Father: Need you in the executive conference room at 11. Important client meeting.
No “please.” No “good morning.” Just a command. Typical.
The morning drags on, and by the time it’s 10:55, I’m bored out of my skull, and happy that I’ll at least have a meeting to distract me.
Gathering my notes, I make my way to the executive conference room, and I can feel everyone’s eyes tracking my movement.
There she goes.
The owner’s daughter.
The nepo baby.
She doesn’t deserve to be here.
She didn’t earn it.
One day, I just want to walk into a room where no one has any preconceptions of me. Is that so much to ask?
Their taunts don’t matter, though. What matters is I’m getting Tiff and Ella out of their shitty situation with my ex-fiancé’s family. It’s not my fault, but somehow I feel responsible. More responsible than Jamie, I might add.
The college credit helps too. It’s a job outside of Zach and his world, and could be something for me, if I learn to enjoy it.
My father, who’s already seated at the head of the table when I arrive, grins. “Gentlemen, I’m sure you all remember my daughter, Hunniford. She’s shadowing this meeting as part of her internship program.
I offer a small wave and a polite smile as I sit on the chair furthest away from my father.
I get a few polite nods, but that’s it. Then I take out my notebook and write the date, desperately trying to look less awkward than I feel.
I’ve known most of these men since I was in diapers.
They’ve been at charity galas, country club dinners, and family events.
I’ve always felt comfortable because how to act was bred into me.
Here, I feel foreign and as though I don’t belong.
Probably because we all know I don’t.
“Nice to see you again, Hunniford. It’s been a long time.”
His voice makes me whip my head up.
Mr. Nicks—Jamie’s father, sitting next to mine. Both of these men treated me like a commodity, and snarled when they saw me posing for pictures with Zach and his family at graduation. I think it was then they realized their grand inheritance plan was out the window.
Our eyes meet across the table, and his mouth curves into a cold smile.
“Nice to see you too, Mr. Nicks,” I say, shifting in my seat, hoping I’m not showing how uncomfortable I am with this whole thing. Everyone in the room knows why there would be animosity between us, and that just makes it even worse.
My father’s jaw ticks. “Jonathan,” he says coolly with warning clear in his voice. “Let’s focus on why we’re here instead of my daughter’s presence.”
Jonathan shakes his head. “Oh, but this is so much more interesting.” He leans back in his chair, taking in everyone’s expressions around us. “Can you believe she actually had the gall to show up after dumping my son for some mediocre football player?” he asks to no one in particular.
My mouth parts as I try to think of something appropriate to say in this setting, but with everyone staring at me, I lose my confidence.
How is it that everywhere I go, I end up being the main attraction?
Jonathan’s expression shifts when I don’t answer, and something darker flickers behind his eyes.
“Did the quarterback finally realize he didn’t need a girlfriend to tie him down? Is that why you’re here, picking up the scraps that my son turned down when he left the company?”
“Left the company?” I whisper in confusion. My father didn’t mention anything about him leaving.
“You didn’t tell her?” Jonathan looks at my father with surprise, then barks out a laugh. “Of course you didn’t. That’s why she’s here, isn’t it? You made her believe that you chose her, not that you were forced to get her on board to try to save our crumbling dynasty.”
I knew it. My father told me he wanted me to help him get Jamie and his father out, but I didn’t realize Jamie wasn’t even here to compete for his spot.
“Jonathan—” my father warns. “—Not the time or place.”
Jonathan ignores him and keeps staring at me.
“You know what? Now that she’s here, maybe we need to look into the legalities of your daughter fucking up my son’s priorities.
Not marrying him is the sole reason we’re in this mess in the first place.
I do wonder how long it will be until she disappoints you again. She’s not made for this.”
Something inside me cracks, but I don’t let them see.
I never do.
I’ll never admit that every fear, every insecurity was just laid bare for everyone to see, because my parents taught me to always maintain my decorum in public.
My hands are shaking under the desk, but I keep my head held high.
Before I can take another breath or answer Jonathan, my father clears his throat. “Everyone out,” he commands. “Everyone except Jonathan. Now.”
Chairs scrape. Papers rustle.
The associates scatter like cockroaches with their heads ducked and their eyes flicking between my father and Jonathan as they file out.
I stand, hoping my trembling limbs have calmed enough that I can walk out of here without giving Jonathan the sick satisfaction that he got to me.
“Think about what I said, Hunniford.”
Jonathan’s voice slices through my spine as my hand hits the door handle.
“Ask yourself what happens when Daddy finally gets tired of his consolation prize.”
I move as fast as my dignity allows, heading straight for my desk with my head down.
The comments start before I'm even halfway across the office floor.
“Well, that certainly explains a few things.”
“Who’s the football player?”
“The engagement that never happened, and now this. Rather convenient timing.”
“I wondered why Sanderson was so insistent on bringing in an undergraduate who has no idea what they’re doing.”
“The girl certainly didn't look prepared for that level of… honesty.”
Each one hurts more than the last, but the tiled floor is interesting enough for me to stay focused.
No flinching. No blinking. No bleeding.
By the time I’m at the elevator, the floor is louder than I’ve ever heard it, and it’s all because of me.
When I get to my desk, I’m thankful for the three cubicle walls, and the stack of papers sitting there. What a great excuse to not leave my seat until the end of the day.
After twenty minutes, the floor has calmed down, but the bruises to my ego are still there. Growing up, I was always afraid of Jamie’s father, but this encounter has only taken that fear to a new level.
Gnawing on my bottom lip, I pull out my phone, feeling the urge to text someone, just to help me compartmentalize what happened.
The little kid inside me wants to text Jamie because I know he’s the only person in this entire world who would get it.
I can’t, though. I don’t have his number anymore, and it’s not like we have a cordial relationship.
I haven’t seen him since high school graduation and have no clue what he’s doing these days.
Not that I’d want to. Hearing his perspective on why he thinks tormenting Tiff is a good idea would probably make me hate him and this situation even more.
My phone suddenly lights up with a message.
Zach: Honeycomb. You’re not going to believe this. Tiff and Ella are officially booked on a flight for next Friday. Your dad actually came through. Miracles do happen. Can’t wait to see you tonight to celebrate. I love you so much.
Honey: That’s fantastic news! I can’t wait to have them here. Love you and can’t wait to see you tonight.
Unease gnaws at my stomach because I feel like I’m lying to Zach by not telling him how upset I am over Jonathan’s comments, but he’s too invested in the situation.
I know him. He’ll demand I quit immediately.
He doesn’t understand how fragile Tiff and Ella’s flight here really is.
If my father is planning some elaborate coup and I leave now, he might rescind his promise to me.
Hell, he might even make it worse for them.
No, I need to speak to someone who’s neutral to the situation, and I know immediately who that is.
Honey: Not sure if you have classes, but can I call you?