Ch. 11 In The Aftermath
Dad's funeral is attended by the various townspeople he knew. All of them are older than I remember them being.
Some of them murmur words of condolences, some just pat my back.
Mrs. Green tells me to cry—that holding everything in will kill me from within.
I just thank them, or nod. I feel nothing—except it's cold.
Mr. Banner, dad's supervisor from work gives a short eulogy. Soon enough, I'm the only one left.
I sit in the cemetery long after everyone's gone.
I'm not sure why, but a small part of me hopes that mom will come—say her final goodbyes to the man who loved her till his dying breath.
It's only when the shadows elongate again, that I realize it's time to head home.
—--------------------
It's when I'm standing outside our house—now mine—that the trembles start.
I climb up to the porch, but I can't make myself turn the door handle.
Somehow, if I stand here long enough—if I find a way to wake up—this nightmare will go away.
I stumble back and walk to my car. I sit in the driver's seat for a few hours, knuckles white on the steering wheel.
Eventually, I call Keith. He's the only person that comes to mind.
"Hello."
"Keith—I" My voice crackles—raw after so many hours of disuse. I clear my throat and try again.
"Keith, I'm resuming work tomorrow. If you have time, maybe we can set up a meeting."
"Marcus, you don't have to rush back. I know you were looking forward to time with your dad. Don't you guys have an appointment tomorrow?"
I open my mouth to answer, but nothing comes out. I try again. "Yeah...about that... He's not coming. He's never coming..."
Keith goes silent on the other end. "Marcus, I'm so sorry."
I clear my throat in a bid to dislodge the lump that refuses to go away. "Thank you."
"You need to grieve, Marcus. Take your time. Don't rush back."
"I need to work. I'll see you tomorrow."
I hang up.
Maybe, if I get good enough, I'll eventually outrun the pain.
—-------------------
The sound of pen scratching against the paper fills my cabin. It's soothing, in a way silence isn't.
I pull the forty-fourth report and scribble my sign on it before slamming it shut.
My fingers are starting to cramp.
"Way to show it who's boss, Boss!" Kyle grins as he comes in bearing more files, dropping them on my desk before reading my bad mood and exiting.
Well.
Kyle Ingram—Daniel's youngest. He begged me to make him my assistant when the three brothers promoted me to Chairman, and I couldn't refuse.
Not that he isn't doing a really great job. He's come a really long way since we both started six months ago.
In fact, at this rate, he'll be able to take over as chairman in a couple years. I owe the Ingrams this much at least—to safeguard their legacy until one of them is ready to take over.
He reminds me so much of myself during my three years as Daniel's assistant before he died—no—was killed. Fury still simmers in my blood. Bringing his killers to justice—it makes the horror of the trial worth it.
I drop another file into the signed pile.
I spent years being shuttled from one department to the other—thanks to Haley Ingram, Daniel's widow—before Keith insisted on making me his assistant.
I would've quit after Daniel's passing...but he believed in me.
If not for the non-negotiable provision in my contract paying for all my education as long as I worked at Ingram Tech, I might still be paying off student debt.
I might not have been able to afford dad's treatment.
I owe Daniel for looking out for me, even beyond the grave.
I flex my fingers to get the blood flowing again.
Still, even with my degrees and the experience gained working as Keith's assistant for seven years I don't feel prepared for the position of Chairman.
Keith, and Kenneth—Daniel's second son—have been really helpful. But some days, it still feels like I've inherited a dumpster fire.
Our stock is only just beginning to stabilise. We still haven't released the schedule of our new product lineup.
Kyle pops his head in. "Keith's here to meet you."
Keith Ingram—Daniel's oldest son. Largest shareholder and Heir to Ingram Tech before he resigned and promoted me to Chairman.
A wonderful man, and an even better boss. At least on most days.
I can't quite quash the guilt that rises. I threatened to quit if he tried to get me to take time off to grieve after dad—right.
He backed off, but now, I feel like a schmuck.
"Okay. Send him in."
A knock sounds before Keith walks in, "Hey, how are you holding up?"
I'm not sure how to respond. Our relationship has evolved a lot in the last five years but there are still a lot of things I don't feel comfortable sharing.
"Been better. How are you?"
I walk around my desk to give Keith a side hug.
He's now a friend—as close to a brother as I can have.
"I'm happier. Having Ella around makes a world of difference. You should get yourself a girlfriend. Want me to set you up on a date?"
I snort—biting back the emotions that threaten to overflow out of their carefully sealed barrel. Everything reminds me of dad.
"No thanks. I'll look after my own dating life, if you please."
"Ha! You haven't dated in all the years that I've known you. What about Madison Kent? That girl you dated in high school?"
"You know about her?" I'm gobsmacked. I don't remember mentioning her to him.
"Yeah, Kyle gabbed. Nolan mentioned something to him a few months back. Though, I'm more interested in the other one—what was her name? Yes! Celeste something."
I can feel the color draining from my face. What the hell?
He gets one look at my expression and elaborates. "You showed me a picture of her once—in Beijing. After you got back from prison—you were flat out drunk. You mumbled something I couldn't understand, but I still remember your expression."
The only photo I have of Celeste is from that one night in Radcliffe. I've not looked at it in years. Never showed it to anyone.
And I showed it to Keith?
"And you think now is the time to spring it on me? After five years?"
He shrugs. "I've always been curious. And you look really stressed out—having someone who cares, a partner, really helps."
He pauses to study my face, though I'm not sure what he's looking for. He waits for me to say something—anything, but I remain tight-lipped.
"Actually, I had a meeting with the prosecutor yesterday. He's asked both of us to testify. You up for that?"
I nod slowly. I still break out into a cold sweat when walking into a court. Being imprisoned in a foreign country for nearly a week will do that to you.
Having the Judge predisposed to believing the other side simply due to nationality and politics... I try to swallow the lump those memories dredge up.
This needs doing, though.
"You may have to explain how you got Richard's dossiers and the financial details about the truck driver and his family."
I nod.
"That's fine. One of my high school friends, Christopher Lowell is a prosecutor with the DA's office. He's been in the loop since almost the beginning."
I'm glad the conversation has veered away from Celeste and my dating life. "You don't know, but I've been taking up some... let's say 'side jobs' for the DA's office for a very long time."
Keith's eyebrows fly up before he starts laughing. "How many secrets do you have?!"
He raises a hand to stop me before I can respond. "It's fine. I'm glad it's squared away."
"That leaves just one thing. I have some bad news."
A sigh builds in my chest, though I do my best to hold it in. It's not exactly Keith's fault.
I had expected to be walking in crap when I took this job.
"With the amount of negative press we've been dealing with, no decent marketing company is willing to work with us."
Damn. If Keith, the CEO and founder of Catharsis, the hero of the public can't convince them to work with us, there's no chance in hell an unknown person like me will be able to.
"Kenneth and I have been talking. We think it's time to start building an in-house marketing team. What d'you think?"
"I've been thinking along those lines too. I'll start making some calls, but building a decent team will take time. I'll ask Nolan to put out feelers."
He nods thoughtfully.
"So... when's the trial beginning?" My voice is low. The thought of the trial is making my stomach twist into knots.
I still haven't told anyone about my nightmares.
"It's starting next week. We'll be in the first round of witnesses."
I haven't done anything to be ashamed of.
Then why does it feel like I'm going to be the one on trial instead?
—--------------------
Three days in the hospital and a fortnight of fearing the consequences of that evening have me shivering despite the heat.
I'm sweating bullets now. I take off my jacket and place it on my lap. I'm thirsty too.
"Hello? Excuse me?"
Silence.
I'm not sure how long I wait in that hot room. Do I need to engage a Defence Counsel?
I didn't think so, considering I've been telling the truth all along. But maybe I should?
I wish I still had an assistant. Marissa quit—via text. Apparently, seeing me flat on the floor was too overwhelming.
I twist my fingers in my lap.
If someone doesn't walk in within the next five minutes, I'm leaving and only coming back with an Attorney.
Just then, Detective Boon walks in. "Sorry to keep you waiting. So, now that you're recovered, I'd like to take your statement again. I investigated the incident per your previous statement but didn't find any evidence for or contrary to your statement.
"Please tell me everything you remember from that night. Is there anything else you recollect?"
I don't like this man. Even though his questions sound open and receptive, his gaze keeps drifting to the mirror and his phone.
His pen is still in his pocket. He's just trying to waste my time.
My lips tighten. I'm in a bad spot, but I'm not sure what for.
"I've already told you everything I remember. Isn't the victim's statement considered evidence in such circumstances? When are you going to arrest Coleman?"
"Ah, about that. There's no evidence of sexual assault. Mr. Coleman insists you attacked him when he rejected your advances. While there is no other evidence, he does have a bite mark on his hand.
"If a sexual assault or intent for SA isn't proven, I may be forced to charge you with aggravated assault."
My pulse sky rockets. How is this happening?
"On what basis?!"
"Ms Shaw, Mr. Coleman is an upstanding citizen with no such complaints to his name. You, on the other hand, have a history of being vindictive towards those who reject you, don't you?"
A lump forms in my throat, that's impossible to swallow.
"What are you saying?"
"Didn't you try to destroy the life of a fellow student when he rejected you in high school? If this case goes to court, you'll most likely be indicted."
My vision darkens around the edges.
No. No, no, no no no. Just No. Hartley said I wouldn't get a record if I confessed.
"How did you find out?"
My voice is low. I can barely get the words out.
"Made some calls. Asked around about you."
"I know you were allowed to turn in your tests from the UK. You were allowed to graduate with a clean record. But there are still people who know the truth."
My blood runs cold.
"Then why are we still here, talking?" I push my hands out. "Why don't you arrest me?"
"Mr. Coleman wants to have a word with you. If for any reason he withdraws his testimony, I won't have enough evidence to indict you. I would rather not waste my time on this case. You decide."
Just then, a knock sounds on the door. He gets up and leaves.
A couple minutes later, Harry Coleman enters the room with his Lawyer. He has a bandage wrapped around his hand.
"The high and mighty Celeste Shaw. Always turning up your nose at men, aren't you?"
His lawyer pulls out a file. "This is a termination contract. Your contract with the HC Studio is terminated as of today. You have sixty days to find another source of employment before your Visa expires.
"Ms Shaw, Mr Coleman agrees to withdraw his statement if you sign a contract barring you from suing him in the future for any wrongful termination, posting anything about this even on social media or holding and participating in any press conferences.
"Furthermore, Mr Coleman agrees to forgo the penalty clause of your termination contract so long as you sign an NDA to the above mentioned effect.
"What is your decision, Ms Shaw?"
I want to spit at them for their attempt to coerce and silence me, but the amount of recompense he is seeking in the contract gives me pause. ￡100,000.
I don't have that kind of money.
I give him a filthy look as I grab the file and start reading the contract in earnest.
Winning the BAFTA was my first real success. Even this was just a supporting role. My career as an actress was supposed to really take off now. All the money I earned over the years in small roles as an extra and supporting actress gigs went towards paying off my debt.
Harry knows this. He knows exactly where I stand because his is the first professional studio I signed with.
They make me sick.
I have no choice. It's better to live today to fight another day.
If Harry thinks I'll let this slide, he has another thing coming. I don't yet know how, but I will find a way.
He smiles at me in smug satisfaction as he extends a pen.
We both sign the contracts, and Detective Boon walks in, like he was waiting outside the door.
"Detective," Harry calls, "We're both withdrawing our statements."
"In that case, I don't have enough evidence to indict either of you. I'm letting you go with a warning."
I can't help but notice how pleasant the interrogation room became after Harry walked in.
They were all in on this.
I get up on shaky feet but walk out with my head held high.
I have sixty days to sort out my employment or risk deportation.
Hi guys!
This was a tough one to write because this is the true for so many of us... Ever had a bad experience with Law?
Ever chosen to walk away, faith lost in the system that is supposed to protect us?
I have... so many times... and I wish I didn't have to...
Comment below if you have!??
Much love!