38. Penelope
Waiting is the worst thing in the world. There’s something about sitting and watching the clock count down that makes time go slower than it ever has before. Nervous, excited butterflies are swirling around inside of me as I force myself to sit still when all I want to do is pace the room or run away.
I wanted this. I asked for help to get revenge on my parents because I wanted them to feel just a glimpse of the pain and agony I feel every day for the things I’ve done. But I figured out a while back that to feel remorse, you have to have a soul, you have to have feelings and a conscience, and my parents have none of them. Trudy and Barnaby Rhodes are soleless entities, entirely driven by their own needs and wants and without an ounce of regard for anything or anyone else.
“You ready?” Hawthorn asks quietly from beside me.
“No,” I say with a shaky laugh.
“Take a deep breath,” he orders, and my body moves instinctually, pulling in air then exhaling it. Some of my pent-up tension leaves my body as I follow his command, just like he knew it would.
“I love you,” I whisper, turning to look at him, and as always, finding him watching me, his eyes full of promise and love.
“Good, because you’re mine,” he smiles, lifting my hand to his lips and pressing a kiss to my engagement ring.
Today’s the day of the shareholders meeting where the Rhodes Corp. board of directors expects to meet with the new majority shareholders. We asked for the news of my inheritance to be kept from public record for as long as possible, but if anyone wanted to find out who inherited my great-grandfather’s estate, they could easily find the information now that it’s all official.
We’re banking on anyone who has seen the records that show me as sole beneficiary to assume that it’s an old will. Hopefully no one will be expecting us when they walk into the hotel conference room where we’ve requested the meeting be held.
The advantage of being extremely rich is that normal people will not question your directives if you’re prepared to pay well for them to follow them. So I know that the doors won’t open until exactly noon. Which means I have precisely three minutes to get my game face on and to get ready to deal with a room full of businessmen who won’t be particularly happy to know that the company they work for is now owned by a group of teenagers.
“Does everyone remember the plan?” Gulliver asks, his voice calm and steady.
“Yes,” we all utter back.
We’ve planned the next hour down to the minute, and we all have our roles to play. We’ve got the room set out just as we want it, with tables positioned in a T shape, with us sitting on a slightly raised row of tables at the head of the room, and the rest of the seats set out around the tables below and in front of us.
The guys weren’t joking when they said their families have been grooming them to take over their business empires, because I swear, even though we’re all still in high school, they’re more capable of running a multi-million-dollar company than most seasoned fifty-year-olds.
According to Gulliver, everything about this meeting will be a powerplay tipped in our favor, culminating in the main event at the end. From the way the room is laid out to the way we plan to lead the meeting, we’re the ones in control.
Just like the other times we’ve been together, Izzy and I are sitting next to each other in the middle of the row, with Hawthorn beside me, Gulliver beside my sister, with Kip to Gulliver’s right and Davis to Hawthorn’s left. All of the guys are dressed to impress in beautiful business suits, while I’m in a fitted black pencil skirt and a black tailored jacket with a silvery blue cami beneath it, and Izzy’s in a deep red 1940s-style pencil dress that hugs her curves. If nothing else, we look the part.
“It’s time,” Kip says, barely restrained glee pouring from him.
Looking at my sister, I take in her warm, happy eyes and feel her calm spread to me. Gripping Hawthorn’s hand tightly below the desk where no one can see, I turn my gaze to the door and force my face into an expression of neutral disinterest.
As the ten men, including my grandfather and father, all file into the room, I swallow down the nerves that try to flood to the surface. One of the useful skills my mother taught me was how to use my game face, and I won’t allow anyone to see how intimidated I am.
“Good afternoon, gentlemen,” I say politely. “Thank you so much for joining us today. Please take a seat.”
The men all glance at one another in question, but when the first sits, the others follow suit, all except for my dad.
“What’s going on? What is the meaning of this?” he demands, his face red and angry.
“Barnaby, why don’t you take a seat?” Gulliver says, his voice calm, the threat in his tone impossible to ignore.
Reluctantly, my father lowers himself into the only empty seat, glaring contemptuously at us.
“Perhaps at this point, introductions may be a good idea,” I say. “I am Penelope Rhodes. This is my twin sister, Izabella Rhodes, then we have Gulliver Winslow, Kip Tudor, and to my left are Hawthorn Benedict and Davis Aldrich.”
“You still haven’t told us what you’re doing here,” Dad jeers. “This is a shareholders’ meeting, not a school project.”
A dry laugh comes from Gulliver as he smiles. “As I’m sure you’re all aware, a lot of Rhodes Corp. shares were sold recently following the change in beneficiary in the Rhodes Estate. That forty-nine percent was purchased by four different companies.”
“Kosto Incorporated,” Kip says, lifting his hand into the air and waving.
“Osveta Holdings,” Davis says.
“Karistus,” Hawthorn says, with a fuck you smirk.
“And Ceartais,” Gulliver says, lifting his hand in a condescending salute.
Unable to resist, I smirk as I hear the names of the shell companies we created. All of them mean revenge and justice in various different languages.
“Of course, that leaves the remaining fifty-one percent, which is owned equally between myself and Izabella. Welcome to a new regime, gentlemen,” I say, faking as much bravado as I can muster.
“No,” Dad cries. “That’s not possible.”
“If you’d like to turn to page one of your booklets, you’ll find the legal documentation of ownership,” Izzy says, so happily that I don’t bother to hold back the grin that’s trying to break free.
“We don’t plan to tell you how to suck eggs,” Hawthorn announces. “You’ve all proven that you’re good at your jobs given how successful Rhodes Corp. has continued to be over the last four years since Reginald’s death. However, we do have a couple of issues that we need to address.”
From this point on, the guys take over, running the meeting how we planned, while the men all stare at us, some obviously more comfortable with their new teenage bosses than others. My eyes stay focused on my dad, his skin a sickly gray color. His lips are downturned into a stunned frown as he just stares at the papers in front of him, his eyes flicking back and forth over the legal documents that prove that between the six of us, we now own Rhodes Corp. in its entirety.
He looks like he’s aged ten years in the last forty minutes, and a sick sense of satisfaction rolls through me as I watch him suffer. After the guys have discussed the changes that we plan to make to the business, I’m shocked to find the room full of smiles and nods of agreement.
Turning my head, I look at my sister, and she smiles back at me before she addresses the room. “We know we’re young, but Rhodes Corp. is ours now, and we intend to see it prosper long into the future. My great-grandfather played an essential role in the running of this business, and in the future, one of us will step into his impressively large shoes, and with your help, we’re confident we can uphold the Rhodes name for generations to come. With that in mind, we’ve come to a unanimous decision that we’re hoping you’ll support us on.”
“Barnaby, would you mind standing up?” Gulliver asks, a wide, unassuming smile on his face.
Dad jolts to attention and looks around the room, his eyes falling on all of us smiling at him and openly encouraging him to stand up. Reluctantly, he pushes to his feet, his lips parting as a question forms on his lips.
“Dad, you’re fired,” she announces succinctly. “Your termination is on the grounds of gross misconduct and misappropriation of company funds. We’ve had it brought to our attention that on a recent trip to Marrakesh, you used the company jet, property, and expenses allowance under the guise of visiting new clients, but we have proof that instead you spent the time on an impromptu vacation with your wife, meeting with no potential clients, resulting in zero revenue made to offset against the trip. Unfortunately for you, Rhodes Corp. prides itself on its hardworking ethos and fortitude toward constantly striving for success. As an organization, we cannot allow one bad apple to make a mockery of our ancestors’ perseverance and drive to succeed. On this occasion, we won’t be pursuing any legal action against you, but we ask that you return to the Rhodes Corporation head office and clean out your desk, or alternatively, we can have security do that for you,” she says with a wide smile.
“You…” Dad stutters. “You can’t do that.”
“Actually, we can,” I say, pushing up from my seat and bracing my hands on the table in front of me. “Izzy and I aren’t just majority shareholders, we’re also directors as per Great-Grandfather’s will, so perhaps a motion. All those in favor of the termination of Barnaby Rhodes on the grounds of gross misconduct and misappropriation of company funds, please raise your hand.” I don’t take my eyes from my father, as every person in the room lifts their arms into the air. “Motion carried,” I say, allowing my lips to tip up just enough that he can see. “You remember Mark, our former driver, right?” I say, pointing to where Mark is standing in the doorway, a wide smile etched across his face. “He’ll take you to the office to collect your things.”
Dad’s face turns redder and redder as his hands clench into fists, and he snarls, gritting his teeth as he glares at me. I wait for his anger, for his foul, repulsive words, and when they don’t come, I brace myself for violence. He’s never hit me, not the way he lashed out at Izzy, but I’ve also never seen him look as furious as he does right now.
One of the other directors clears his throat, and I remember there’s other people in the room, it’s not just me and my dad, and no matter how much he might want to, he can’t attack me in a room full of his former colleagues and my family.
“Fucking cunt,” he hisses, barging past Mark and out of the conference room.
“Our father, ladies and gentlemen,” Izzy says quietly from my side.
Sitting back down, I lift my chin and glance to Hawthorn, then back to the people in front of us. “Gentlemen, it’s been a pleasure meeting you. I’m sorry about that little scene, but we appreciate your support, and we look forward to working with you in the future.”
Davis stands up, and the rest of us follow suit, moving from behind the desks for the first time and stepping out to shake hands with the directors of the company we now own. Even Grandfather looks grudgingly impressed as he reaches out to shake my hand.
* * *
“Did you see his face?” Izzy asks for the fifth time since we said goodbye to the last of the Rhodes Corp. staff and left the hotel.
“We saw, Little Ghost, we recorded it too, just like you wanted,” Gulliver tells her, ruffling her hair as he pulls her to him and presses a kiss to the side of her neck.
“How do you feel?” Hawthorn asks me quietly, as the others laugh and joke about my father’s reaction to losing his job.
“Honestly, a little numb,” I say, turning around to look at him and eagerly moving into his embrace when he opens his arms for me.
“It’s not over yet, this was all just part one.” He laughs darkly.
“Would it be weird if I got a screenshot of that look on his face and blew it up and put it on the wall?” Izzy asks loudly.
A soft chuckle falls from my lips, and I close my eyes and smile, just listening to the sounds of the others around me. “Maybe a little weird,” I say, not moving from my position snuggled against Hawthorn’s crisp white shirt. “How about we get it framed and send it to him for Christmas?”
Hawthorn’s chest vibrates with rumbling laughter. “Evil,” he whispers against my head.
“You love it.”
“Yes, I do,” he agrees, prying me from his chest to roughly kiss me.
“Get a room,” Kip jeers.
“We have one,” Hawthorn replies, pulling back and flipping his middle finger playfully in Kip’s direction. “And on that note, I think I’m going to take my fiancée home, because this power suit is turning me the fuck on.” He laughs.
“We’ll swing by and pick you guys up at seven,” Gulliver says.
“I wish we were going to be there to see their faces,” Davis pouts. “Please, Pen, let us come watch you guys obliterate your parents.”
“If it were up to me, I’d let you come,” I tell him.
“No, it’s just the four of us tonight,” Gulliver snaps. “It’s time to go and see good ole Mom and Dad,” he laughs.
Hawthorn holds out his hand, and I place my palm against his, loving the warmth and comfort a single touch from him can elicit. Lifting our joined hands into the air, he motions for me to twirl, and I giggle, twirling beneath his arm as he walks us toward the exit doors.
“Come on, Princess, let’s go back to the castle and chill out for a few hours before we have to face the evil beasts,” he says playfully.
“Take me home, my Prince.” I laugh, pushing up onto my tiptoes to claim his lips with mine.
Instead of taking control of the kiss, he lets me take charge, mirroring my actions and letting me kiss him however I want. Starting off slow, I move my lips against his, tasting his skin before I part his mouth with my tongue. Sweet heat fills me as I deepen our connection, caressing his tongue with my own. I lose myself in the way it feels to be in his arms, to be pressed so close together that I can feel his heart beating against my chest. My eyes are closed, but it doesn’t matter because, in his arms, nothing and no one else exists.
It feels like a lifetime ago that I thought love was just a feeling other people got, one that I’d never have the opportunity to feel. My life was planned out, each step orchestrated and considered before any action was taken. Sex, marriage, touching, kissing—I was taught that it was all just a tool, a means to an end, but my mom was wrong, so truly wrong. If I hadn’t woken up and seen how evil I and my parents were, I could have been forced into a loveless marriage with a man who saw me as nothing more than a very expensive meal ticket.
I gave up a fortune for my freedom, and I’d do it all over again in a heartbeat if it meant I got to keep this man forever. Hawthorn groans, and all thoughts of my parents and how my life could have been blow away into the ether, where all bad dreams end up.
Heat courses through me as he curls his arms a little tighter around my waist, forcing my body so close not even a hair’s breadth separates us. His tongue becomes a little more demanding, stroking and teasing me, taunting me to up the ante or allow him to take over.
I could fight him for dominance, but why would I? He doesn’t want me to cower, he wants me to allow him to help me fly. Hawthorn Benedict saved me. He rescued me from my life, from my demons, from my own self-loathing. He is my everything, and after today, he’ll be the only thing that matters.
Tonight, my sweet revenge will be reaped, my vengeance complete, or as complete as I care to get it. Tonight, we bring our parents to their knees and show them how wrong they were to have written us off. Tonight, we show them how much they’re missing out on by not loving us the way a parent should.
Instead of devouring me, Hawthorn pulls back, waiting as my eyes refocus on him. “Let’s go home.”
Nodding, I let him guide me out of the hotel, into his car, and then into our bed, reminding myself how unbelievably lucky I am to be so loved the entire time.
* * *
Fitzy looks from me to my sister and back again, his lips spread into a wide grin as he takes in the outfits he’s put together for us. “Yes,” he cries “Perfect, you’re both perfect.”
Looking at my sister, I nod. “He’s right, you look perfect,” I tell her, admiring the little black dress she’s wearing. The fabric is fitted to her body with exaggerated, voluminous long sleeves that cinch in at the wrists.
“So do you,” she says, smiling as she takes in my red dress, demure at the front but completely backless, the silk dipping down to barely an inch above my butt crack.
“Oh, my girls, together and ready to go take down their evil parents,” Fitzy coos. “I’m so proud.” He laughs, opening his arms and beckoning us both forward for a hug. “Make them pay,” he whispers, pressing a kiss against my cheek, then Izzy’s, before he pulls away, smiling like a proud parent.
“Time to go,” Gulliver says, poking his head around the doorway.
“We’ll be right down,” Izzy tells him, as Fitzy blows us both a kiss, then follows Gulliver from the room. I had planned to get ready at home, but Fitzy insisted on dressing us for what he keeps calling the final showdown together, so Hawthorn and I came to Gulliver’s house. “I’m so glad you’re here,” she says the moment we’re alone, fidgeting with her clutch as she nervously bites at her lower lip.
“Are we actually doing this?”
“It doesn’t feel real, does it?” she says quietly.
“No, it doesn’t. I wanted this. I was so lonely and sad, and I wanted revenge because they deserve it, but…”
“But they’re our parents,” she whispers, as if she doesn’t want to admit it out loud.
“Yes.”
“If it was just for what they did to me, I’d say we’ve done enough. But a few bruises are nothing in comparison to what they did to you. They stole four years from us, so let’s steal four years from them. After that, we’ll see,” she says, her voice strengthening with every word.
“Four years,” I say, nodding. “Four years, I like that.”
“Let’s do this, let’s reap our revenge and then we can move on and forget them. After tonight, we’ll pretend they never existed.”
Mark, our family’s ex-driver, the one who helped Izzy run from our parents all those months ago, drives us over to the house. Gulliver employed him as Izzy’s permanent driver a few days ago, and she’s over the moon to have him back. When we reach the gate, he pulls the black plastic fob that opens the remote lock from his pocket and turns to glance at us with a smile. “I never bothered to return this,” he says with a smirk, pressing the button so the gates start to swing open.
“My guy’s been watching the house all day, your dad came home a couple of hours ago, but no one else has gone in or out since,” Gulliver says.
“Tonight is going to be fun.” Hawthorn laughs, but there’s a barely restrained anger that’s simmering just below the surface of his humor. He’s on edge, and I immediately move closer to him, wanting to reassure him that we’re together and everything’s going to be fine.
“I love you,” I whisper as I press my face into his neck. His response is immediate, some of the tension leaving his body on a silent exhale as he lifts his hand and cradles the back of my head, burying his face into my hair.
“I love you too.”
“After tonight, they don’t exist,” I promise him. “It’s just you and me then.”
“Penelope Benedict.”
“I like how that sounds.” I smile.
When the car rolls to a stop at the bottom of the front steps, I lift my head from Hawthorn’s shoulder and turn to glance at the house. The last time we were here, I didn’t think I’d ever step foot inside again. Now everything’s changed, and we’re here for the last time, hopefully.
“I’ll keep the engine running and have nine-one-one ready to call on my cell,” Mark says, his tone completely serious.
“Hopefully we won’t be too long,” Izzy tells him.
He nods, leaving the engine running as he climbs out of the driver’s seat and comes to open our door. “Good luck, I wish I could be a fly on the wall when you tell them,” he says with a nod.
The four of us climb out, and I lead the march up the steps to the front door. I don’t knock, I just open the door and walk straight in. After all, this is my home. The others follow me in, and Hawthorn reaches for my hand, entwining his fingers with mine as I lead everyone through the house and toward the living room.
Pushing open the door, I walk straight in, smiling widely as my parents’ mouths drop open in shock. “Mom, Dad, it’s so nice to see you,” I chirp, my voice so happy and upbeat I sound a little possessed.
“What the hell are you doing in my house?” Mom snaps, demanding an explanation as she jumps to her feet, planting her hands on her hips and glaring at us.
“Thanks, Mom, we’d love to sit,” Izzy says brightly as she strides over to the sofa and sits, pulling Gulliver down next to her.
Laughing lightly, I follow suit, waiting for Hawthorn to sit and then sliding into his lap, smiling maniacally the entire time.
“Get the hell out of this house, you filthy little whores,” Dad says, the slight slur to his voice suggesting he’s had a few drinks already tonight.
“Why would we leave? We’re celebrating,” Hawthorn tells them.
“Got any champagne, Dad?” Gulliver sneers, lifting his eyebrows in a silent challenge.
“What do you want? We really don’t have time for all these pathetic teenage amateur dramatics,” Mom drawls sardonically.
“What’s the matter, Mom? I thought you’d be over the moon, I’m worth a fortune, and I landed myself a Benedict as a fiancé,” I say, blinking innocently as her expression darkens.
“Plus, it’s not like either of you have a job to go to in the morning, you’ve got all the time in the world.” Izzy laughs.
Dad surges forward, but Gulliver jumps up from the couch and blocks his path to Izzy before my dad can take more than two steps forward. “Watch it, Dad,” Gulliver says from behind gritted teeth. “Money makes the world go round, and we have enough to make a body disappear, no questions asked,” he threatens.
Dad’s murderous expression doesn’t change, but he takes a step back, his hands still clenched into tight fists at his side.
“Well,” I say brightly, pulling the attention back to me as Gulliver sits back down beside Izzy. “We don’t want to take up too much of your time, I’m sure you must be busy making plans. We just wanted to give you twenty-four hours.”
“What?” Mom snaps dismissively. “Twenty-four hours for what?”
“To pack your things,” I say. “I’m sure you’ve heard by now, but good old great-grandfather put a nice little clause hidden in his will, so when I decided to break the will deliberately, instead of coming away penniless, I ended up with it all and without all the rules. His entire estate is mine. Well, mine and Izzy’s, we decided to split it down the middle and share it. How fun is that?” I say with a cute shrug of my shoulders.
“Congratulations,” Mom sneers, turning and walking to the drink cabinet at the back of the room, pouring herself a drink.
“Thank you,” Izzy and I say in unison.
“His estate was massive—so many houses, so much land and property, including this house,” I say with a giggle.
“What?” Dad roars.
“I know, right?” I say, using my best valley girl impersonation. “So, this place is mine, Izzy didn’t want it, so I took one for the team and agreed to take it,” I say, lifting my hands into the air in a what-you-gonna-do gesture. “Well anyway, I just wanted you to know that you have twenty-four hours to get your stuff and get the hell out of my house before I have the police remove you,” I say, losing all of the fake happy tone from my voice and letting the smile fall from my lips.
Mom spins toward us, her lips falling open in shock. “You can’t kick us out of our home.”
“Yes, she can,” Gulliver says. “This house belongs to Penelope; the house is part of Reginald’s estate. It’s hers now, so she can do whatever the hell she wants with it.”
“Have the house,” Dad growls, his face red and angry. “We’ll just buy another house,” he boasts.
“Well, about that,” Izzy says. “Funny story, but as part of our inheritance, we also got control of the trust funds. The lawyer said it was the strangest thing. Normally trust funds become sealed when the person who set them up dies, but great-granddaddy had his set up a little differently. So now we’re in control of them. We can increase the money, decrease the money, or, hell, we can stop allowances all together if we want to.”
Dad’s face pales, and he staggers to the nearest chair, grabbing it with his hand for support as he collapses down onto it.
Glancing at my sister, I catch her eye, waiting for her slight nod before I inhale a slow, calming breath. “You stole four years from us. You manipulated, used, abused, and hurt us. You made us hate ourselves and each other. You broke us, and then you just walked away like we never existed,” I admit candidly.
Locking eyes with my mom, I wait until a flash of fear passes across her face before I continue. “You took four years from us, so we’re going to take those four years from you. For the next four years, your trust fund will be reduced to that of an average, working-class American family. If you require more money, you’ll both have to get jobs and earn it. You won’t have access to any Rhodes property, companies, or assets, no offshore accounts, no cars, jets, or staff. For the next four years, you’re outcasts.”
Mom pulls in a ragged breath, lifting her hand to cover her mouth. “No,” she gasps, shaking her head.
“For the next four years, you’ll be poor and worthless,” I mock. “You’ll be forgotten, laughed at, and broke. No designer clothes, no big house, no servants or drivers. No cushy job where you do nothing but still earn a seven figure salary. You. Get. Nothing.”
“We’re your parents, how can you do this?” Mom hisses.
My laugh is so cold and mean that it makes goose bumps rise across my skin. “You taught me that money is power, and power is everything,” I say. “You forced me to pick a side, and guess what? We win.”
The End