by Xavier Neal
I scrunch my face realizing how transparent I am. “Is that wrong?”
Her hand lands on my leg. “It’s your wedding day, Bryn. It’s about being happy and in love and letting us celebrate with you, not dictate how. Why don’t you talk to Wes? I’m sure he wouldn’t mind if you moved up the date.”
He might not, but I’d bet every dollar in my bank account the wedding planner would.
“Haven’t actually had a lot of time to talk to Wes lately.”
“Conflicting schedules?”
More like his obsessing schedule. Ever since some bitch at Global Laundry decided to leak a fake affair story about this father, he’s spent every free minute digging into it with J.T. and Evie. I’ve barely seen him since Friday night when we announced to everyone we were extending the family. When I woke up yesterday, he was nowhere to be found. I ended up having dinner alone while watching a Star Trek movie marathon and even went to bed without so much as a kiss goodnight. Fuck, aside from the hour photoshoot this morning I haven’t had the opportunity to talk to him and even during that the conversation was all baby business related. I’m trying to be understanding about the entire thing. I know how much Wes’ family meant to him. Still means to him. How important it is keeping his legacy pristine, but shouldn’t that include his pending wife and child? Shouldn’t we be allowed to participate in this hunt, or at the very least be allowed to do more than sit idly by on the sidelines? Doesn’t he know I do not sit out very well?
“Bryn?” Mom’s voice pulls me out of my head. “You okay?”
I clear my throat in an attempt to banish the frustration. “Yeah. Sorry. Just um…spaced out for a second.”
“Pregnancy brain.”
“That’s not a thing.”
“It is definitely a thing,” she argues as she folds her hands in her lap. “And whenever your schedules sync up, talk to Wes. You have to learn to communicate with him, Bryn, especially since you two are about to raise a child together. The key to a successful marriage and family is communication.”
A key that we seem to fumble around with and lose quite often. You’d think after getting him to come out of his shell, it would be easy. That there wouldn’t be any hesitation or walls to climb to simply fucking talk to each other like regular people, yet here we are struggling to do the basics. Part of me thought having Wes come out into the light would make our lives easier. I never imagined it would make things more difficult. I never imagined I would have to battle for his time and attention the way I have lately. Hopefully, once this rumor about his past is squashed, we can get back to the way things were because the idea of trying to raise a baby like this is terrifying.
“I would just like to put on record, this is a terrible idea,” Evie snips at me from across the conference room table.
“Noted.”
J.T. offers her a comforting grin. “Everything is going to be fine.”
“You two do not know that,” she returns to lecturing. “This could go completely wrong. Aside from the fact this is an unorthodox way to deal with negative press, we aren’t prepared for surprises. We aren’t prepared if the devil wearing Prada storms in here with truth bombs we haven’t built shelter for.”
I simply fold my hands together on top of the marble table.
“Evie, we’ve looked into it,” J.T. speaks up. “All of us. We’ve spent the entire week combing records and files and cannot find one shred of proof Wes’ father ever had an affair let alone another child.”
“But-”
“Enough.” My voice barks, shutting her mouth tightly. “This meeting is about putting Monica Simmons in her place. She needs to understand regardless of who she works for, me, my company, and my family are not to be fucked with. I am done, Evie. I have a child to consider and do not have the time or focus to deal with these constant smear campaigns. She is now in the territory of slander, which is why one of my lawyers is present. Monica needs to understand the severity of the situation she has created.”
Evie surrenders her hands, but it is obvious that’s the only thing she’s giving up.
This has been one of the longest weeks I’ve had since Brynley left. We’ve slaved hours around the clock looking for anything, anything that could point us in the direction my father had an affair. While the entire crusade was outrageous, it was necessary. However, I knew before we ever started we would come up short. I knew no one would find anything, because he was a good man. No. He was a fucking great man who did great things and made this world a better place. He loved me and my mother tremendously. He’d never do anything like that, just like I never would. After stressing about it for days and coming up with no conclusive evidence, Brynley suggested I confront the woman who is out to make our lives a living hell. That the only way to deal with a bully is to stand up to them. So that’s exactly what we’re going to do. She’ll back down. She won’t have a choice.
The conference room door opens and in strolls the face that has been plaguing me nonstop for the past few weeks. She cheerfully sits down at the closest empty seat without waiting for a welcome.
Monica leans back in the chair, crosses her legs, and smugly questions, “No one’s going to offer me something to drink? Not even a shot of the infamous whiskey?”
I don’t bother stifling the growl rumbling in my throat. “This is not a social visit, Miss Simmons.”
“Monica.”
“Monica,” I bite back.
“Then I assume you’re here to discuss the very important issue between us.”
Evie shoots me a pleading look to reconsider.
Ignoring her, I divert all my attention to the woman I can’t wait to rid my life of. “Yes.”
“Good,” her enthusiasm remains. “Because this is going to make for a fantastic story.”
Unsure of what she’s talking about, I state, “There will be no more stories involving me or my family, Monica.”
Her head tilts to the side. “You do know you can’t silence the press, right?”
“This is my polite request that you abandon this route. That you stop spreading lies-”
“Lies?” She scoffs. “What lies?” Before I have a chance for rebuttal, she states, “Your fiancée is pregnant.”
“Yes but-”
“And your father did have an affair.”
“He did not.” The words shake my entire body. “There is not a shred of evidence-”
“Oh….” Monica condescendingly coos. “You really aren’t ready to discuss this with me yet.”
“Discuss what?!”
She starts to snap back yet manages to gain her composure. “Let me ask you something, Weston. Did you know your mother was married once before? They were eighteen. High school sweethearts. Thought they were going to take the whole world by storm.”
I grit my teeth together to prevent displaying discomfort over the new information.
It’s irrelevant. What my mother did before they were married…before they had me doesn’t fucking matter.
“He lives in France now. Married to a baker. He’s actually gay, which is why they ended up getting divorced at all.” Her dark eyes narrow. “But you knew all that, right? Because your parents didn’t keep any fucking secrets from you. Because they were completely one hundred percent honest. All the time.”
“Just because Wes’ mother didn’t disclose her past lovers with her son doesn’t mean they lied to him or that his father had an affair,” J.T. firmly defends. “I was there. I witnessed their incredible marriage first hand just as Wes did. Your accusation-”
“Has been very well researched,” she interrupts with another smug smirk. “Sad that my team is better than yours, Bruce Wayne.” Monica’s expression transforms to gleeful at the sight of mine becoming burgundy. “Isn’t that what the wife to be likes to call you? Did you know she wants to get a little bat symbol on her hip in honor of it?”
“How the hell do you know that?” J.T. almost growls. “That’s something we joke about in private.”
/> “Guess it’s not just you she likes to talk to,” Monica sneers.
Loathing the idea of her discussing anything as intimate as new additions to her body with anyone other than myself has my breath struggling to remain stable.
“That little free tidbit, once again, proves my research team is impressively better than yours.”
“Prove it.”
“I just did.”
“Prove it where it holds more merit.”
My words lift her eyebrows in intrigue.
“You seem to have all the information. Prove to me my father had an affair. Prove to me you know the man I grew up idolizing better than I did.”
The gleam in her eyes proves she is tempted.
“Provide me with something that supports your case and I will make a public statement informing everyone that your credibility isn’t complete shit.”
“Wes!” Evie hisses.
Monica waves her finger at me in a tsk. “I’m gonna need something better than that.”
“What do you want?” My fingers tightly wind together. “Because that’s what this is really about, isn’t it Monica? A reporter like you never wastes this much time chasing one subject unless there’s something very special in it for them. So, what is it you want? What is this all really about?”
“This is about you being willing to accept your sibling and giving her a piece of the Wilcox name she deserves.”
Alarm spreads throughout my system. “She?”
Monica wets her lips, leans forward, and sighs, “I’ll give you about a month to make sure you’ve dotted your I’s and crossed your T’s. Afterwards, once you see my evidence is solid, you will take a publicized DNA test demonstrating there are no cover ups,” her eyes cut Evie a glance, “happening about the buried secret and then you will make a formal public announcement right there on live television. You will express your disgust with your family’s attempt to keep this hidden from the public eye and welcome your new sister with open arms as well as a few shares from your portion of the company. The very company she, by birthright, deserves being a shareholder to. Then Global Laundry will run an exclusive on the shocking story.”
“Absolutely not,” Evie invades the conversation. “This is over. This whole thing ends now. Right. Now.”
Harry Hawthorne, my lawyer present, advises, “Mr. Wilcox, I am inclined to agree with Miss Evie. The legalities of the situation are…absurd.”
My eyes meet J.T., and he whispers his grievances, “This isn’t a good idea. This is….This feels wrong, Wes. Like a trap.”
Their pleas, while understandable, fall on deaf ears. “Done.”
Monica triumphantly claps despite the collective groans in the room.
“But when all this comes up as nothing more than a heavily, fabricated lie, you will run me, my company, and my family a formal apology before resigning from further reporting, entirely.”
I know she’s wrong. It’s the reason I took this fucking deal. We will discredit her completely and ban her from ever doing this to another family again. I’m willing to be the one to take the hell bitch down. I have the power. The resources. The motivation. She will not attempt to destroy another innocent family again, deceased or living. Evie’s right. I can’t fight the public on every topic, but I can obliterate an unnecessary liar like this.
“Deal,” she says too quickly.
“I’ll have the papers drawn and sent to your office,” I inform and shoot Harry a look to do it immediately. Once he nods, I turn back to face her. “I want all the proof you have on this so- called affair and secret child.”
She lets the smile remain. “You can have someone come collect the boxes from my home.”
“Afraid to do real work in the office?” J.T. mocks.
“They were my mother’s personal things. I would hate for anything to happen to them.”
My eyes enlarge and the sigh out of Evie is vociferous.
Did she say...her mother?
“In the meantime, ask Clark about it. He still works at the estate last time I checked. Though now he’s dating your beloved’s mother.”
Air rushes to the aid of my burning lungs, but there’s not reprieve.
“That’s not public knowledge either, is it Wes?” She smiles vindictively. “Hope you’re getting a strong sense of how reliable my sources really are.”
My mouth seems incapable of forming a response.
“Oh! And feel free to dig into the name Will Cox, who owned a ranch in the small town of Stovlen Springs, Texas.” Monica cockily winks before asking, “Who’s following me now to collect the boxes?”
Unable to move at all, J.T. meekly volunteers, “I will.”
“Fab!” She squeaks and pops back onto her feet. “Let’s make this quick. I have things to arrange for my inevitable ‘welcome to the family’ broadcast….So many channels to pick from. So little time….”
Monica saunters victoriously out of the room with my best friend a short distance behind her. He offers me one final look of concern with a shake of his head.
Once the two of them have left the vicinity, Evie grinds out the words, “What. Have. You. Done?”
My body falls back into my chair in defeat. I give the side of my face, my chin, and finally my neck a hard scrub.
What have I done? More importantly what the fuck has my family? Did they really keep a secret sister from me? Did they really deny her the chance to be a member of this family? Was everything I witnessed, everything I fucking believed in and what we stood for a complete fucking lie? Were my parents really no better than every other shitty socialite family whose main concern is reputation first, decency second?
I need answers.
And I need them now.
Bursting through the front doors of the manor, I shout, “Clark!” When there’s not an immediate response, I repeat at the top of my lungs, “Clark! Clark!”
This time when there’s no answer I give my face a good rub and storm off towards my office. Inside, I rip off my jacket, toss it on the couch, and hit the HH button on the phone, making sure it’s on speaker.
“This is Lauren, how may I be of service?”
“Clark,” my voice chomps incapable of making a complete sentence.
“He is in the main house, sir. Would-”
His face suddenly appears in the door way, and I end the call.
“You called, sir?”
Bracing myself against the edge of my desk, I take in a long, deep breath.
From the moment I left the office until I damn near ripped the handle off the front door, my mind has been reeling out of control. How is this even possible? How is this not all some sick joke just to watch me jump through hoops? Something for Monica to encourage the other press to laugh about while my company figures out how to fade me back into the background? Maybe I should just go back into the dark. Everything was less complicated. Flaws much less visible.
“I need to ask you something,” I start slowly, the words simmering on the tip of my tongue. “And I expect you to answer honestly. Understood?”
Clark stands up straight, folds his hands behind his back, and nods.
The bitterness of the words churns my stomach. “Did my father have an affair?”
His eyes do not drop from mine, yet he remains silent.
My heart pounds harder against my chest as I repeat the question, “Did my father…cheat on my mother?”
He doesn’t allow his posture to waiver. “I am not at liberty to comment on the subject.”
Rage ripples throughout me straight into my voice, “What the fuck do you mean you’re not at liberty to comment?!”
“I am legally not at liberty to say, sir.”
“He’s dead! Any legal documents at this point involved in the subject matter at hand are null and void!”
“They are not, sir.” His correction narrows my stare. “There is a clause that includes nothing to be permitted to be said regardless of his life status. I will find the paperwork if you wis
h for your legal team to verify my statement.”
My hand harshly curls around the edge of the desk.
“However, even if there wasn’t, sir, I still would not speak on the subject.”
“Excuse me?”
A gloomy glaze crosses his eyes. “Out of respect for your parents, I would not speak where it is not my place. And I am asking you out of respect for them to let this subject, like the two of them, rest in peace.”
“No!” I shout with enough velocity it shakes my entire body. “I wanna see that paperwork! I wanna see the extremes they were willing to go to cover this up! I want fucking answers, Clark! I expect fucking answers! I deserve to know everything! I deserve to know the truth!”