18. Audrey
AUDREY
PLAYLIST: WHATEVER IT TAKES – IMAGINE DRAGONS
“You’re all fired, effective immediately,” I say without looking at any of the suits sitting around the table in the glass cage of Whitney-Morgan tower.
Only today, I’m not sitting here with my tail between my legs, the shackled and muzzled dog in a cage. No. Today I sit here with purpose. Because I have a plan. We have a plan. A plan that will go down as the biggest coup in history.
It’s rebellion.
It’s breaking free.
It’s the most reckless I have done, with a chance of me landing in some hellhole prison, and the thought of it is actually appealing to me. Yes, it’s another cage. But it’s a cage no one from the outside can reach me in.
“She’s insane!” says one of the suits, gesturing widely as he gets up.
“You all will receive a very generous severance pay,” I say to the others, ignoring him on purpose.
“Feel free to attempt legal action, but we all know what happened in the past two weeks, and let’s be honest, you all knew.
You were in on all of it, and we need some action that looks like we’re doing something.
So, walk away before I have you investigated regarding your involvement. ”
It takes all my acting skills to survive this meeting, but right now, I’m not myself. I’m corporate Jane, pretending to be the head of a multinational conglomerate.
None of them says anything anymore. The media has been tearing the bank apart in ways I didn’t think possible. We are being investigated by the City of New York and the FBI, which I find immensely satisfying.
I lean back in my chair, my hands in a wide pyramid on the desk for more authority, and look self-sufficiently at them.
“There’s the door,” I say and nod to it.
I stare them down in arrogance as they leave.
One bends down to me as he passes me, and whispers darkly, “You are so done.”
A grin appears on my face, but I say nothing.
It’s what works best with men like him. I also know that I have the upper hand.
Ahmed, who happened to be a lawyer in his previous life, walked me through every single contract and family document, through the legal pursuits, through every single process that is about to be started.
The end result was better than any of us could deem possible, because my greedy control freak of a father built a structure where he had every possible right and influence across every single corporation, including the foundation.
And now, I do.
When they are all gone, I get up and stare for one moment at Downtown Manhattan. If I could, I’d burn this building down.
A knock on the glass door.
I turn.
“There is a woman downstairs; she’d like a word with you.”
“I don’t do audiences,” I say.
“She told me you’d say that; she also said you’d very much like to hear what she has to say.”
I roll my eyes in annoyance.
“What’s her name?”
“Lilian Knightley,” says the assistant, and goosebumps spread over my arms.
“Background checked, she is the Founder of Zukee, that Dating Platform, also Founder and CEO of a tech startup called Zeus, that went out of business; since then, she hasn’t been on any public record, she—“
“Let her up,” I say, interrupting the assistant.
She nods and leaves. I turn back to staring at the city as my mind wanders back to my childhood.
It was in our Lake Como house that I saw her first; I must’ve been around thirteen, because my sister was still so little.
“Lilian,” hisses Mr Knightley angrily at his daughter. The man frightens me more than my own father. He has these eyes. Like a villain. “Watch your tone. You must be gracious for the chance you hereby get.”
Lilian swallows and straightens her shoulders.
“Of course, father. Excuse my behavior, Mr. Whitney-Morgan. I am, of course, pleased to be here.”
My father nods and shakes her hand.
“Your father tells me you have been studying well and have inherited his wonderful entrepreneurial mind,” my father says. I just stand there next to them in the entrance to the house with its high ceilings and many rooms.
“Very,” she says. “I just founded my first company this year, and the numbers are promising.”
“Which is a complete understatement,” says Lilian’s father. “Because they’re heading into the eights.”
I just stand there like a statue. No one introduces me. I am just here because it looks better if the family is complete.
The men start talking and walk to the study.
My father puts his hand on her back.
Lilian looks at me; her eyes widen for a single moment.
I open my mouth, want to say something, but I was told to be silent and not make a fuss, or hell would open, so I just stare at my feet, following them.
My father has Lilian sit on his lap so she tells him about her business. It’s disgusting. The same thing happened last week when the DeBarras were over.
I hate men. I hate this world.
They talk and talk.
Until she finally manages to get away by excusing herself for the bathroom. My father orders me to show her.
I jump up and walk her out of the study.
“I’m Lillian,” she says when we’re back in the entrance hall and holds out a hand.
I don’t know what to do. She is making me nervous beyond. She must be in her twenties or something; she looks like a model and talks like she is fifty.
“Audrey,” I say, taking her hand and blushing. I am such an idiot.
“You look like you hate this place here,” she says.
“I do,” I say silently, actively not looking at her because she makes me nervous, and add, “Wholeheartedly.”
“Is there anywhere we can give them a slip?”
My eyes fly up at her.
I grin.
“Yeah,” I say and point my head to the door.
She nods.
And I take the lead.
My father won’t notice me leaving anyway. I am sure he secretly hopes I do get lost one day.
I walk Lilian all the way to the house that was built solely to showcase the car collection.
“Wow,” Lilian says, staring at the 1963 Ferrari 250 GTO.
“300hp, 3.0l dry-sumped engine,” I say. “He bought it last year for 70 million. Reaches a top speed of 170mph.”
“You love cars, huh?” Lilian asks.
“Yeah,” I say. “I’m always in here whenever things get rough in the house.”
I press a button, and a ceiling hatch opens with stairs unfolding.
“Let’s get up here,” I say and climb up first.
The stairs lead into an unused attic that serves only to keep some of the sun and heat out. The roof has a section replaced by a saddle window that offers a perfect view of the stars.
She lies down on the floor underneath the roof window.
I do the same at some distance.
We don’t talk.
And I surely won’t say a word.
“Don’t be me,” she says at some point.
“What do you mean?”
“Get away while you can, and don’t look back,” she says, her head falling to the side so she can look at me.
“I don’t think I can,” I say.
“You must,” she says. “Otherwise you’ll be me.”
“Why don’t you get away? You’re an adult, aren't you?”
She scoffs. A scoff that turns into a laugh of disbelief.
“It sucks being an adult,” she says. “You’re just as caged as before, only you have responsibilities now. They do that on purpose, so you don’t get away.”
“Audrey,” she says behind me, and I turn around.
The young woman I admired back then, in my memory, has grown into this present version of badass woman, visible solely from the way she walks into the room.
“Lilian,” I say and turn. She still has these ice blue eyes. Before I can do anything, she hugs me.
Wild.
Her scent washes over me.
I kinda hug her back with one arm, leaning back slightly.
Of all the things, this wasn’t on my list of things for today.
“You should’ve listened to my advice,” she says as she lets go of me and laughs.
“I did listen to it,” I say, walking over to the door and closing it. I need to get out of the closeness. “Unfortunately, life caught up with me.”
She’s still making me nervous. She was the first girl I ever had a crush on, something she shall never know.
“Very unfortunate,” she says in a tone I can’t really place.
“What brings you here?” I ask directly.
“I recently got married,” she says.
“Um—okay,” I say, because this is not going anywhere where I expected it to go.
“My lovely wife, who is driving me nuts every day, is very good at many things, first and foremost at solving walking and breathing problems and secondly at gaining information.”
Walking and breathing problems. So she’s a serial killer or what?
I take a step back, because right now, she scares me. Did she get wind of what we’re trying to do? That it was us?
My heart skips several beats. If she knows—
Fuck.
Lilian is, after all, one of the ‘elitist families’ as Cass calls them, who will be affected by what we are going to do.
“And what does that have to do with me?” I ask, pretending I am not planning to disrupt world markets and self-destruct everything in the process.
She slips an envelope from her bag and holds it out for me to take.
I take it, not breaking the gaze into her eyes. Her look is unreadable.
Only when I fumble it open and pull out what’s inside do I look at what I hold in my hand.
She’s probably trying to blackmail me.
Her wife must have figured out—
My mouth drops open.
There are photos, but not the ones I expected.
They are photos of my dead father.
Photos of what he did—
One hand shoots in front of my mouth.
No.
I can’t—
A photo of him hanging dead—
I get sick to my stomach and stuff them back into the envelope, my hands trembling.
“How—“ I begin.
“My wife,” she says. “We also know it was you.”
“What?” I ask, pretending to know nothing.
“I’m not here as an enemy,” says Lilian, turning to the glass front overlooking Downtown. “I give you this as proof I’m on your side.”
“You—you killed him?” I stammer out.
“Your father was a horrible man,” she finally says. “He deserved to die.”
“He sure did.”
“But I didn’t do it. Wouldn’t. My wife, however…” she says with her voice getting slightly higher, “She’s on a personal vendetta against abusive men in power, if one can say so. She’s also rather…possessive.”
“Lovely wife,” I say and chuckle.
“She is indeed. She also has wonderful ideas on how to manage your case.”
“My case?” I ask. “I didn’t—“
“The banners and everything else you are up to.”
Fuck. She knows.
“How do you know all that? I mean, yes, your wife, but she must have means?”
“Irrelevant,” Lilian says briefly, “What’s relevant is that we have ideas.”
Ideas. I repeat carefully in my mind.
“What ideas?” I ask as I step next to her.
Lilian doesn’t speak for a while.
“You were never meant for this world,” she finally says. “I still remember the day we first met. You had this light in your eyes when we talked about the cars. I envied you for the love you had for them. You lost your spark. That’s what this world does.”
“Um—“ I say, because I don’t know if I should be flattered or offended.
“You lost your spark, but never your love for them. You should do what your heart tells you to do.”
“Easier said than done,” I say with a scoff.
She doesn’t speak for another moment; we both just stare at Manhattan.
“I was meant for this world. It’s what I am good at. I love the corporate world.”
“Do you?” I ask her, looking at her.
“Yeah,” she says and turns to me.
“I want to buy Whitney-Morgan from you,” she says, looking me straight in the eyes.
“I want to buy it so you won’t crash the world into a crisis, because that is what will happen.
It will cause a disruption that will cost many existences.
And if you agree to it, I promise you I will manage everything to your satisfaction. ”
“You are insane,” I say with my mouth half-open.
“I’m not. I’ll take over and take care of the investigations and proper measures. Just name a price.”
I stare at her.
This is surreal.
I am dreaming.
Not real.
I pinch myself just to be sure.
Lilian laughs, “I’m not joking,” she says. “I don’t joke; you should know that.”
“You did once,” I say, remembering a time when we had a get-together with all of Father’s friends. I was shortly after my fourteenth birthday.
“Did I?”
“Yeah,” I say as my mind wanders back. “That celebration out east? When you and Delilah smuggled that whiskey out of the house, and we sat on the beach. It was the first strong alcohol I ever drank, and when we walked back I vomited on your 5k shoes.”
Lilian’s eyes unfocus.
“You said, ‘Well, you better get on your knees now and clean them. I looked at you completely puzzled, and you said, ‘Just joking’. I was so perplexed back then.”
I laugh, trying to overplay that I just showed too much of myself and that I had a damn crush on her.
“Ohhh, I remember,” she says. “That was a fun night, Delilah and I fucked that night after your dad pulled you away.”
“You what?” I ask incredulously. “I always thought she was straight after she married that Guru—“ I don’t even remember the name. I haven't caught up with news about her in ages. I don’t do gossip.
“Ohhhh don’t even start with him,” she says. “But yes, she did. I guess her father, I don’t know. We haven’t spoken in years. They’re divorced though.”
“Huh,” I say because there is nothing I have to say. All my life I was around two women who also loved women, and it took me all the way to L.A. until I finally kissed one.
L.A.
“Freedom,” I then say. “The price is my freedom and the promise no harm will be done to communities and people.”