Exodus

by Stewart , Kate

  “I’ll check. If so, I’ll rearrange some meetings. I can be there by noon tomorrow.”

  “See you then.”

  “Are you going to tell me what’s going on?”

  “I’ll explain when you get here.”

  “I’m on my way.”

  “Thanks, Ryan.”

  Tossing the phone on the counter, I pour another two fingers in the tumbler.

  “To you, Sir,” I lift my glass before tossing back my dinner.

  My body vibrates along with the sound of the motors as they whiz past me on the narrow road.

  The wind kicks up as they speed by, and I wave, teeth chattering, shivering in the cold, before looking into the direction they’re heading.

  Fear slams into me when I see the road ending abruptly in the distance. There’s nothing but darkness past the tree line.

  “Stop!” I scream as they continue to blast by. Furiously, I wave my arms in warning and point to the road ahead, but I know they can’t hear me. Flailing, I move to step out onto the road just as the Camaro comes into view. I attempt to call out to him, but I can’t. Instead, his name comes out muddled off my tongue. “Stop!” I step out into the road to give chase, but they’re too far gone. I’m too late. It’s too late.

  I jerk awake as one of the French doors crashes against the wall, a gust of wind covering me as I whimper, and slam my eyes shut, starting a slow count to even my breathing and steady my heartbeat. A hot tear escapes as the dream freshly implants in my psyche. Another icy gust of wind has me scrambling from the bed to shut my balcony doors on a drab, cloud-littered sunrise.

  After a long, hot shower to warm me up, the Advil finally starts to kick in. Sucking on a water bottle, I hydrate while I pick through my old closet and the wardrobe of a twenty-year-old me. Apparently, my things had been carefully unpacked after they restored order to the house. Moving the hangers aside one by one, I pause when I spot the crumpled dress on the floor tucked in the corner of the closet. Fingering the straps, the rest of the pale-yellow dress falls limp in front of me, faint stains covering the bodice.

  A dress still soiled from our watermelon fight, the night I confessed to Sean I was in love with him.

  “I take it back.”

  Throat stinging, I press the fabric to my face in hopes of breathing in any trace of him and am disappointed. After we broke up, I couldn’t bring myself to wash the dress. The ache gnaws at me as I carefully fold it and stick it on the shelf above before heading downstairs and hauling my suitcase in from the car. Taking my time, I restructure the closet with my temporary wardrobe. I don’t know how long I’m staying, but with last night’s decision, I know it will take some time to get it all done. And it’s apparent I need some semblance of order.

  The last thirty-six hours have been a mess. I splintered within hours of arriving here. I’d confessed unthinkable things to my ex-fiancé who didn’t deserve it. I’d said too much. I can’t fall back into old patterns or I’ll lose focus. My emotions may have gotten me here, but my sensibilities need to kick in and help me navigate the rest.

  After unpacking, I head downstairs with my rocks glass and the half-empty bottle of whiskey. Still a bit disoriented from hitting the bottle so hard, I stumble in my footing and drop the glass which shatters on the kitchen floor. I gather a broom and dustpan and begin sweeping the shards up when a faint but distinct smell wafts into my nose.

  Dropping the pan, I stare down at the cracked glass in disbelief. I lift one of the larger pieces and sniff.

  Gin.

  I would know this scent anywhere. At times, I can still taste it on his lips.

  Big Brother is watching you.

  Racing to the small pantry that houses the security equipment, I rewind the last twenty-four hours to around the time I arrived. But it’s only my car in the driveway that appears on screen, and it’s only me that enters the house. I was alone last night.

  I palm my face and sigh.

  The dream, the dress, the surfacing memories, along with the lingering alcohol, have definitely set my imagination off. I’m already a prisoner of this place and the way it’s haunting me.

  I decide to preserve some dignity and toss the glass into the trash.

  My mind is playing tricks already, and I’m not going to entertain it.

  I opted to meet Ryan at his hotel in the lobby and spot him typing a mile a minute on his laptop. I called him in because he’s one of the best corporate lawyers in the country and the biggest asset in my company. He’s also highly protective of both me and my best interests. He glances up at me over his screen in greeting and gives me his signature panty-dropping grin. He’s ridiculously good looking in an all-American way: an athletic build, thick wavy, sandy-blond hair, and ocean-blue eyes.

  Despite being my most trusted business partner, he’s also an ex-boyfriend from college. We dated for a few months during my junior year before he grew tired of the space I purposely put between us, refusing to let him get close. He eyes my dress, and I don’t miss the way they linger. Despite my rough morning, I managed to pull myself together today, choosing my favorite ‘I’ve got this’ spiked black boots. I paired them with a sleek black pencil skirt and form-fitting, popped collar blazer that reveals a respectable amount of cleavage. I left my hair down and curled it in waves before applying a full face of makeup, lining my eyes black and shading my lips deep red. The same red of the trench coat draped over my arm.

  Ryan stands from the small two-seater he was lounging in and towers over me before pulling me into a hug. As always, he’s impeccably dressed. His hair combed back neatly. I can feel the stares of the two women standing at the front desk. He’s got a natural knack for drawing attention, but at the moment, his is on me. “You look beautiful.”

  “Thanks, but I feel like hell.”

  His thick, dark blond brows V. “Not sleeping well?”

  “Not really, no,” I confess as I glance around the boutique hotel.

  Traffic bustles in and out of the lobby as I take in the posh furnishings and artwork. He’s staying at one of the few inns on the square that’s been newly purchased and renovated.

  “This is nice.”

  “It will do,” he says, looking me over curiously. “You want to tell me why the sudden change of heart? You’ve refused to entertain any offers or even talk about this place.”

  “I have my reasons.”

  He closes his laptop and pushes it in his dark brown leather satchel, the same one he used in school. “Always so damn secretive.”

  I shrug. “Every woman needs some element of mystery, right?”

  “It’s not annoying at all.” He deadpans. “And not at all the reason why I dumped you. I am curious as to how Collin got in. It’s because he’s British, it’s the accent, am I right?”

  His smile fades when he reads my expression at the mention of Collin. “Really, Cecelia? Even I had a hard-on for him.”

  “I don’t want to talk about it.” I turn and make my way out of the double doors, and he stops me out on the sidewalk, gently tugging my coat from my grip before helping me into it. “I’m sorry,” he whispers softly. “That was an asshole thing to say.”

  “It’s fine. It needed to happen.” He stares at me expectantly. “I’m okay, Ryan. Come on. I’ll drive.”

  He follows me to where I parked my Audi and climbs in the passenger seat before glancing out the window at the bustling square.

  “This town is…charming. You grew up here?”

  “Yes and no.”

  “Jesus,” he grumbles, “It’s like you’re trained to be evasive.”

  If he only knew. I turn to him. “I came here for a year when I was nineteen. I never really lived here.”

  “A full answer. I’m impressed.”

  “I wasn’t that bad.” I turn the engine over and glance his way to see a face filled with skepticism. “I wasn’t.”

  “You vetoed Valentine’s day and told me to start sleeping with other women the night I told you I wa
s in love with you.”

  I pull away from Main Street and take the few turns leading us away from the square toward the plant. “I wasn’t ready for all that. And I didn’t want to lose you as a friend.”

  “You were already the one that got away by the end of our first date.”

  Though he’s being playful, maybe I wounded him more deeply than I originally thought. But he was supposed to be the party guy, capable of showing a girl a good time, and I was in desperate need of that.

  “I never expected us to get serious,” I say honestly.

  “Then you should have dumbed yourself down and worn frumpy sweaters.”

  We share a grin at a stoplight. “I’m glad we stayed friends.”

  “Yeah, well, now that your gold standard and disgustingly charming English gentleman is finally out of my way, we can negotiate adding benefits.”

  “You’re ridiculous.”

  “I’m not a complete animal. I’ll give you time to mourn,” he says matter of fact, scrolling through his phone, “how about a week from Tuesday?”

  “Shut it. We need to get our heads in the game. Tell me about the offer.”

  “The terms are simple. The offer is killer, despite the recent drop in share price. It’s pretty open and shut. We’re meeting their lawyer at two.”

  “That was fast.”

  “The majority shareholders have already signed off on it.”

  “The offer is that good?”

  “That good. If you use the money the way I think you’re going to, we’ll be able to do a lot more. But are you sure you want to do this?”

  “Yes. Why do you keep asking me?”

  “Why now?”

  “Because I’ve avoided it long enough.” I take a turn onto the familiar road and a smile graces my face as it stretches out before us.

  I can feel Ryan pause next to me. “What’s that smile?”

  Rolling the windows down, the wind whips through the car along with the whisper of a memory, of a voice.

  Eggs—runny, coffee—black.

  “Music,” I say softly, turning up the radio, “loud.”

  “What’s that?” Ryan says, flipping through his cell.

  “Cars,” I finish glancing his way before flooring the gas, “fast.” Ryan’s eyes bulge, his jaw going slack before I turn my attention back to the road and open it up. Racing down the straightaway, I feed on the exhilaration as the hairs on my arm start to rise.

  “Cecelia?” Ryan’s voice rattles with anxiety.

  “Yeah?” I manage through a laugh.

  “What are you doing?”

  The lyrics of “The Pretender” by the Foo Fighters blasts through the car. I shake my head ironically and shift. If it’s memories I’m unearthing, then I plan on doing it right. I’ve faced the boogeyman, hell, I fell in love with him and survived. I survived a lot more than that.

  It’s time to unpack.

  I glance over and answer him honestly.

  “We’re blowing the dust off.” We shoot forward, and Ryan lets out a ladylike shriek.

  “Cecelia, slow down before you make me a praying Christian!”

  A laugh bursts from my lips. “Hang on.”

  “Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck,” Ryan mumbles in pure fear next to me just before we skid around a curve on all fours. I correct the wheel, downshift, and stomp on it, plastering him back in his seat.

  Ryan slaps one hand to the dash while gripping the oh-shit handle with the other. “Yep, I just tasted the omelet I ate this morning.”

  I can feel his stare on me as I let loose, soaking up the adrenaline, feeling anything but numb. I take another turn that has us edging the shoulder briefly before I find purchase on the cement.

  “Cee, what is happening right now? Is this some sort of cry for help?”

  I grin, shaking my head like a lunatic, letting the music fuel me. “We’re waking up ghosts, Rye, and it’s way too late for help.”

  “Waking up ghosts, huh? Well, I’ll be honest, I’m not interested in becoming one of them, and I’m too fucking pretty to die so young. Slow the fuck down!”

  My answering laugh is maniacal, and I can feel the fear rolling off him. “Relax.”

  “Not fucking likely.” He cranes his neck to look behind us. “Are we running from someone?”

  “Not this time.” I take one last turn, and we fishtail into the entrance of the plant. With ease, I whip us into a parking spot and glance at Ryan, who’s varying shades of white. Grinning, I glance up at the building and feel no apprehension. I can do this. I can free myself. I’ve got the strength to try. And if the stars are kind enough to align for me, maybe I can forgive myself, forgive them, and finally move on. “I think I’m ready.”

  Ryan dry heaves next to me. “I’m going to need a minute.”

  I sit at one of the conference tables adjacent to the lobby as Ryan guides me through the proposal page by page. Once he’s satisfied, he takes the seat next to me and hands me a pen. “Initial here, and here.”

  He flips another as I scan the lines. “We discussed these articles earlier in detail. By signing this, you agree to the terms of sale.”

  I’m about to gain a fortune, and nothing about it excites me, aside from the good the money can do. I’ve done well enough on my own, but this move will make me a ridiculously wealthy woman. Along with the stock inherited on my twentieth birthday and because of Roman’s untimely death, I became the majority shareholder of Horner Technologies. His colon cancer diagnosis was swift, as was his death, leading to what I imagine was an undignified end. All the money in the world couldn’t help him as he withered away, overlooking his kingdom. I don’t know the details, and I didn’t bother taking part in a last-minute attempt to try and mend our relationship.

  I didn’t shed a tear the day I got the phone call from his hospice nurse, nor did I attend his funeral. I keep expecting that guilt to kick in, so far, it hasn’t.

  Now I just want to be free of my obligation to him and his distorted idea of a legacy along with a name that stands for everything that broke us—power, money, and greed.

  Sometimes I wish I would have remained asleep, blind to his evil deeds, and those of others like him. But I made the most of my knowledge using it to start a campaign against CEOs with the same delusion of legacy. With Collin, I started a nonprofit with an emphasis on social welfare and employee association programs. A direct opposition to Roman’s career path. Not only that, I also used his riches to fund the startup. And under the umbrella of the foundation we’ve got a vast number of lawyers, Ryan included, who’ve made it their life’s mission to expose and seek justice on corporations, just like Horner Technologies, and bring them to their knees for shitty business practices.

  We’ve been wildly successful.

  Amid my crisis of conscience, I’ve decided to set new plans into motion. When we arrived at the plant, after a brief tour, we secured a conference room, and I dropped the bomb on Ryan. After a two-hour yelling match, he agreed to draw up the paperwork so I could sign over my rights to the foundation to Collin. After this sale, I’ll wire a substantial amount of the proceeds to keep it going for years to come. I’m proud of the legacy we created in such a short amount of time, but with all of the pain I’ve caused my ex-fiancé, it’s a gesture of consolation. Collin has been by my side since the beginning. But by his side I can no longer be, and I trust him completely to do what’s right with it.

  With the stroke of a pen, I can start over in whatever way I choose. And maybe it’s for the best if I pack up sooner than later. Perhaps this was a fool’s errand. It was an emotional decision to come, but at least I can use this as an excuse to do some good. But it’s my heart in the driver’s seat now as I click the pen and press the tip to paper, pausing when I see the logo underneath the buyer’s signature line. The company name was undisclosed with the offer, but there’s no mistaking the emblem glaring back at me.

  A raven.

  “What’s wrong?” Ryan senses the shift in my postu
re as my eyes dart between him and the lawyer, whose name evades me as he hovers a few feet away, making sure all T’s are crossed. Ryan leans in on a whisper. “I looked into it when we got the offer. The company is legit, and the CEO is just another billionaire who saw a business opportunity.”

  “Where is he?”

  Ryan frowns. “He?”

  “Tobias King,” I finally voice the name of the secret my heart’s been screaming for six long years.

  The lawyer clears his throat, his gaze lingering on Ryan for backup he doesn’t get before he turns to me. “Ms. Horner, I assure you my client has—”

  “I’m sorry,” I interrupt. “Your name?”

  Clearly offended, he gives me a clipped reply. “Matt Straus.”

  “My apologies, Mr. Straus. But he obviously wants me to know.” I trace the wings with the pad of my finger. “Legit,” I say, stifling a laugh as his lawyer speaks up.

  “Ms. Horner, the board has already signed off, this deal is in motion—”

  “I’m aware of that, Mr. Straus. But it’s dead in the water without my say so, and I will not sign off until I’ve spoken with Tobias King. Privately.”

  Ryan feeds off my vibe, his face going resolute as he eyes the lawyer with expectancy. And I love him for it. Ryan’s a shark, and that’s why he’s here.

  I push myself away from the table and cross my arms. “I’m firm on this.”

  Mr. Strauss sighs, pulling his cell phone from his pocket and excusing himself. “I’m not sure he’ll go for it.”

  “Oh, he will,” I assure, which gets me lingering looks from both men before the door clicks closed behind him.

  Ryan turns to me.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Trust me.”

  “I do, but I’m going to need some clarification. We don’t want any surprises. You know this buyer?”

  “Yes.”

  “How?”

  Mr. Strauss comes back into the room before I can answer.

  “Mr. King will be here in twenty minutes.”

  It takes everything I have to keep my voice even. “Today?”