Chapter 27
Big Inspiration
Fenella
“Whooop! Whooop!”
Matthew shouts with joy, raising a fist in the air like he’s pulling a train horn. We burst out laughing at his ridiculous reaction. Of course we get it. We’re just as thrilled about the results.
The data from Amy’s, Peter’s, and Alan’s phones has been successfully duplicated.
Now we’re all at my place, celebrating while we wait for the FBI programmer to extract the data from their storage phones.
We sit in a loose circle on the couch in front of the fireplace, each with a glass of whiskey in hand.
“That was insane!” Jessy says, taking a sip.
“Yeah, I know.” I take one too.
“Oh, you should’ve heard it from my side. It sounded like a radio drama,” Matthew laughs and drains his glass.
“Mission accomplished,” Laird chuckles, his glass raised.
I let out a long breath, still replaying the chaos from earlier. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen Amy lose it. The sweet, spoiled princess image she’s always had? Gone in a second.
“I never thought Amy would show her monstrous side in front of her own guests. I mean, screaming like a madwoman,” I laugh.
“She panicked,” Jessy says, giggling. “You rattled her, dear. She thought you were gonna steal Peter, and when she saw you getting chased by two guys at once, she totally lost it.” He cracks up again.
“Luckily the duplication finished right on time. You returned their phones, right?” Laird asks, crossing one leg over the other and sinking deeper into the couch.
“I dropped them like they were hotcakes.” Jessy chuckles. “Amy’s phone back on her table. Alan’s and Peter’s under the buffet.”
“That’s genius. You went off plan, but it helped us all,” Matthew says, shrugging one shoulder.
“I try to be useful. Saw the chance, took it.” Jessy shrugs, pretending to be humble, but his tone drips with pride. We laugh again as he plays the humble card.
“I know you’re all happy, but it’s not over yet.” Golden’s voice cuts through from the laptop speaker.
We’ve been in an online meeting with him since we got home. Jessy got bored and cracked open a bottle to break the tension. It loosens us up; it feels more like a mini-New Year’s party.
“No results from the phone data yet?” Laird asks, his voice shifting back to serious.
“Just finished,” Golden says.
“Then it’s done,” Matthew laughs.
“That’s not how it works. We still need to organize the evidence and submit it to the judge to issue a warrant,” Golden says, clearly put out by Matthew’s tone.
“Well, good luck with that.” Matthew closes the laptop without hesitation. We all stare at him. No one ever hangs up on a federal attorney like that. “What? I’m done listening to his crap,” Matthew says, blinking innocently.
“At least let us hear what he found,” Laird protests, but Matthew waves him off.
“Please. He’s not that smart. No way he can piece together charges in a day,” Matthew snorts and drinks again.
“How long do you think it’ll take?” I ask quietly.
“I’d guess it’ll take at least three days, maybe a week.” Matthew leans back, mimicking Laird’s lazy posture, while Jessy and I sit still.
We fall silent. The fire pops softly, the whiskey swirling in our hands. For a while, no one says anything. I stare into the flames, thinking about how close we are to the end of all this.
“I don’t know what I’ll do if Alan goes to jail and Gene collapses,” Jessy finally says, voice low. His shoulders sag.
“Well, sometimes you gotta lose a little to win big. No pain, no gain, remember?” Laird says gently.
“Yes, I know. And I know Alan’s money is dirty, but that salary kept me alive and paid for my mom’s treatments.” Jessy pouts. “Shit. I try to help punish criminals, and now I might lose my job for it.”
No one answers. The room falls quiet again, heavy but calm. This revenge mission is almost over. Amy and Alan will face what’s coming. They won’t touch my life again. Maybe we’ll lose everything at Gene, but it’s worth it.
Yeah. It’s all worth it. Amy deserves everything that’s coming for her, especially after never admitting what she did to me, after all the cruelty she heaped on me in high school and everything she’s done to poor Alan since.
Still, there’s a sliver of me that wonders whether victory will feel as good as I imagine.
“Seriously, I don’t get you guys. Come on, I thought you were better than this,” Matthew groans, his face scrunched up.
“What else you wanna complain about?” Laird asks, sipping his whiskey again.
“You’re driving me insane! You could just look for another agency or start your own—better than Gene. I’m serious, guys. You’re talented as hell. Why keep slaving for big corporations?”
“Once again, Matthew, it’s not that simple.” Jessy exhales, leaning back on the sofa. One hand rubs his temple while the other still holds his glass.
“Alright then, tell me what makes it not that simple.” Matthew pats his thigh.
Jessy and I stay quiet. Matthew means well, but the way he simplifies things is reckless. We won’t make it as a small agency. That kind of dream only works in movies.
“Come on, tell me.” Matthew presses again.
“Well, the first thing is capital,” Jessy finally speaks.
“Duh.” I nod.
“I can help you,” Laird says.
“See that? One problem solved!” Matthew’s eyes go wide as he snaps his fingers. He points at Laird, then shoots Jessy a look that dares him to argue.
“Laird, you’re focused on building Rackers Bite. You can’t start another company now,” I say, squeezing his thigh.
“Wait a sec, we’ve had this talk before. Something about money that needs to be returned to Gene if you resign and break the contract.” Laird frowns.
“God, I forgot about that. But no worries, I already set the money aside in another account.” I run a hand through my hair.
“You were planning to quit Gene and end the contract?” Matthew asks, brows drawn together.
“Yeah. I even submitted a resignation letter. But Alan threatened me. He said I had to return all the bonus money he’d given me. Then he said he’d let me off the hook if I finished all the remaining projects by February.”
“If they get arrested before those projects are done, that means you’ll have to return all that money, right?” Jessy says, frowning.
“How much are we talking?” Matthew asks.
“About a hundred grand and a hatchback car. But I’ve used some of it, so I’m thirty grand short,” I say quietly. The words taste bitter.
“Wait a minute!” Laird and Matthew yell at the same time.
“You might not need to return it,” Laird says, his eyes lighting up.
“If Gene’s accounts get frozen and the company’s under court control, collecting debts will be a nightmare. Almost impossible,” Matthew says, grinning with sudden energy.
“We could even negotiate with the court’s asset division for some leeway,” Laird adds, smirking like he already won.
“They won’t move a thing until the case is closed, and that could take a year or more with appeals. We’re rich!” Matthew bursts out laughing.
“Um, I’m lost here,” I mumble.
“The point is, you don’t need to pay back that money right away,” Laird says, grinning as he pulls me into a hug. His confidence is contagious, but deep down nothing’s ever that easy.
* * *
The conversation from three days ago still echoes in my mind. Jessy and I still have a chance to save our colleagues from losing their jobs. With the money I’ve been keeping aside to pay back Gene, we could start a new talent agency.
The question is, do I have the guts to do it? There are all those business risks we’d have to consider, and we’d need people in the fashion world to actually trust us.
And who’s gonna run the daily operations? Who’s gonna be the director? The tax, the finance, and the million other things that come with running a business. Can I even make the money ready if the court asks for it?
I let out a sigh, flipping through the dresses on the rack even though this is one of my favorite designer boutiques. I just want to be a dream girl, but running a business myself is way out of my league. A girl like me could never make it work.
“Found something you like, sugar boo?” Alan comes up behind me, his hand brushing my elbow.
His thumb rubs small circles on my skin. I tense a little but let it slide. I’ll never get used to that ridiculous pet name.
He took me out today to buy a new dress. He wants me to wear something from a high-end boutique for the charity gala next week. Amy and Peter, as the biggest donors, are hosting it at their house. Everyone, including Mallory West and her circle, will be there as donor guests.
Of course, I can’t refuse or he’ll start asking questions. Especially with Golden so sure this event will be the perfect chance to catch them red-handed.
“Not yet,” I say, sighing again.
“How about this one? The color would pop against your blonde hair.” Alan holds a purple minidress in front of me.
“I think that’s too flashy for a charity event.” I shake my head.
“Then this one?” He lifts a white dress with a knee-length skirt. The halter neck looks simple but elegant. I run my hand along the silky fabric.
“Pretty good. I’ll try it.” I take it from him and head to the fitting room.
When I step inside, Alan’s following me. Maybe he’ll wait outside on the couch, so I don’t say anything. I hang the dress on the wall hook, but before I can turn around, his hand blocks the door. My eyes widen as he pushes his way in.
“Alan? What are you doing?” My heart starts hammering as I back up, my shoulder blades hitting the mirror. He locks the door, and I catch my reflection from the mirror on the door—wide eyes, tense shoulders.
He smiles like nothing’s wrong. “What’s stopping you?”
“You’re in my fitting room,” I manage to say, my voice shaky. There’s an alarm ringing at the back of my head.
“Isn’t this normal for an engaged couple?”
“But…” I raise both hands to keep him back, but he steps closer and wraps his arms around my waist. I push at his chest.
“Why? Didn’t we agree to make this relationship work?” he whispers near my ear, his breath warm against my skin.
This is completely wrong. Laird and Matthew can hear everything through the necklace transmitter. And I’m still loyal to Laird. But Alan doesn’t stop. He buries his face in my neck, his tongue grazing my skin until a shiver runs through me.
“Listen, Alan,” I gasp, panic rising in my throat. “I’m not ready.”
“Why?” His lips press against my neck, sucking hard enough to make me tremble.
“Please, I’m not ready. I don’t wanna disappoint you or make you feel like I’m using you as a rebound. I—” Words tumble out of my mouth. He’s not stopping. No. I push him with all my strength, eyes shut tight.
“I still love Laird!” The words burst out of me, and my chest burns.
Alan freezes. He pulls back and stares at me. “You said you’d try to love me. Shouldn’t you have forgotten him by now?” His voice turns cold. His jaw tightens, anger rising behind his glare.
“I’m sorry. I just need more time.” My hands press against the mirror behind me, searching for something to hold on to.
His fingers dig into my waist like he’s holding himself back from snapping. I’m panting, tears forming in my eyes. He stays silent, but the tension between us is thick.
“You better get ready soon, Fenella. My patience is wearing thin, and I wanna make you mine.” His hand moves to my face. He grips my cheek hard enough to hurt.
“I’m sorry, Alan,” I say, my voice breaking through tears.
My head tilts back under his grip until my neck aches. He leans close, whispering through gritted teeth. “I’m starting to think you’re using me to get back at Amy. You think you’ll hurt her by hooking up with Peter, is that it?”
I shake my head as much as I can. “No. I swear that’s not true.”
“Good. Because after the gala, I’ll claim you. Then I’ll take you far away from here.” His lips brush my ear. “When that time comes, you’ll never look at another man again. Not Laird, not Peter. You’ll be mine. Completely.”
He steps back, straightens his jacket, and glares down at me. I drop my gaze to the floor, my body still shaking. He slams the door and walks out, leaving the fitting room in silence.
* * *
That night, we all gather again in the Baxter family’s living room after replaying the recording. The air feels heavy as we sit there, thinking about what happened today. Alan’s possessiveness escalated too fast, and I don’t know how much longer I can take it.
“That guy’s insane!” Jessy groans, throwing his hands up.
“I think he’s just desperate. Heartbroken because Fenella still doesn’t love him the way he wants,” Matthew says, shaking his head with a newspaper open in front of his face.
“That was dangerous. I don’t even know whether to be grateful you rejected him or scared that you did,” Laird says, squeezing my hand.
“Yeah, I know. It just came out. I couldn’t act any better. I’m sorry,” I say, squeezing his hand back.
“Hey, it’s fine. Don’t apologize. I’m just flattered you still confessed your love for me in a moment like that,” Laird says with a small grin before kissing me.
“I can’t lie,” I murmur, returning the warm kiss, longer this time.
“Oh, man. If I wasn’t holding him down, he’d be storming out to beat Alan to a pulp,” Matthew says, shaking his head.
“Hey, Golden just joined the meeting room!” Jessy blurts, hunching closer to the laptop. Malcolm Golden’s name pops up on the screen.
“Kids, here are your favorite chocolate cookies. Fresh from the oven,” my mom says as she walks in, setting down a big plate of warm cookies on the coffee table—a sweet distraction from all the tension.
“Thanks, Mom,” Laird says with a grin, grabbing one right away.
“Oh hell yeah, my favorite!” Matthew cheers, already reaching for a cookie.
“Ugh, I don’t get how Fenella sticks to her diet and skips all this gooey sweetness,” Jessy sighs before taking a bite anyway.
“I’m good with just a bite.” I bite a small piece when Laird offers his to me.
“Wow. You’re really gonna eat those cookies while I’m freezing out here?” Golden’s voice cuts through from the laptop, clearly annoyed.
“Well, duh, you’re not here,” Jessy says, rolling his eyes and taking another bite.
The doorbell rings.
“I’m outside. Open the door,” Golden says.