Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 115198 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 576(@200wpm)___ 461(@250wpm)___ 384(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115198 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 576(@200wpm)___ 461(@250wpm)___ 384(@300wpm)
I close my eyes. Talk to Dad, make him a deal; my freedom for theirs. “Okay. I’ll be here.”
Jake blows out a breath. “Liam. I really don’t want you to have to do this.”
“I know.”
Jake swears quietly. “So just say no.”
“I can’t.”
“You can, though. You’ve said no to him a hundred times. What’s he gonna do? Yell?”
I send a hand into my hair. “If I say no, it fucks us all, Jake.”
The line goes quiet, and then he carefully asks, “What does that mean?”
I take a deep breath, resigned to doing this now. “It means that in Grandpa’s trust, we’re all linked. If one marriage is fraudulent, we all lose our inheritance.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” my brother seethes, voice strained.
“I wish. And Dad knows. He and I haven’t solidified an agreement, but it’s clear to me from my chat with Peter back on the island that if I come on board, Dad won’t enforce it. If I say no to him, I get the sense that he’ll challenge the trust in probate.”
Anna was right. It’s so manipulative. My stomach rolls, nausea washing me out.
“He really wants you that fucking bad.”
“More likely he wants to win the battle,” I say, exhausted. “Wants to prove to me that no matter what he put me through with PISA, I can’t just walk away from him without screwing my family out of money.”
Jake exhales a long, shocked breath, and in the silence that follows, my thoughts turn down a different path. When I say it out loud, it sounds insane. It sounds pathological. Maybe I should have told my siblings earlier. Maybe I should have looped them into the conversation.
Because maybe Anna was wrong. Maybe this is where Jake puts his foot down and comes to my defense. Instead of panicking, maybe this is where my little brother tells me to tell Dad to go to hell.
Maybe this is where Jake finally stands for something.
“Man,” Jake says quietly. “That sucks but… I get it. If we’d all lose the money, I guess it makes sense. Thanks for taking one for the team, Liam.”
I squint at the wall across the room as his words land.
Thanks for taking one for the team, Liam.
And this, right here, is why I didn’t tell Jake. This is why I didn’t tell any of them. Because I didn’t want confirmation of that crystalline truth Anna articulated so easily:
They love you, but they’re broken. They will choose money every time.
There’s shuffling on the other end of the line; Jake’s voice is muffled, almost like he’s holding his phone against his chest. But I hear him say my name, and then “yeah,” and then he’s back. “Liam? Dad’s here. Okay if I put him on?”
I sigh, leaning my head back against the couch. I thought I had another day or two before doing this but fuck it. “Why not.”
“What time is it there?” Dad asks, no greeting.
“Around one in the morning.”
“Well, it’s four p.m. tomorrow here, and I gotta tell you: The future’s pretty bright, kid.”
I squint into the darkness of my living room. Is he… making a joke right now? “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” he says. “We take off in a couple hours. Are you going to give me an answer before I come home?”
“I want you to promise me something first.”
“I’m not sure you’re in a position to make any demands. But shoot your shot, kid.”
“I want you to step down immediately.”
His laughter carries over the line. “That’s not happening. There will be a three-year transition period.”
“You’d force me to do this?”
“I’m offering you the company on a platter, and you call it forcing you. Unbelievable.”
“Unbelievable? You’re blackmailing me with my siblings’ inheritance.”
“Leverage, Liam. It’s an important distinction.” He laughs again. “And how’s this: I’ll put in writing that I won’t release the remaining PISA documents in return.”
My thoughts stutter. The remaining PISA documents?
The ones that leaked years ago tell a story of a teenage boy building a technology for his family company and ostensibly using it to spy on employees. The remaining, confidential documents tell a story that is much, much worse. “What are you talking about?”
Dad laughs once, delighted. “I had you either way, kiddo.”
I stare, unseeing, at Anna’s painting as it all sinks in. If Alex hadn’t melted down in public and revealed that my marriage to Anna was bullshit—conveniently taking himself out of contention for the CEO position at the same time—then Dad would have threatened to release more PISA documents, knowing I’d lose my faculty position, knowing I’d struggle to find a job anywhere.
He would have used leverage no matter what. He had me completely cornered, and he knew it this whole time.
“Do you even want me in the role?” I ask him. “Or did you just not want to lose?”
“Come on. Don’t be dramatic.”
“Dramatic?” I ask. “If you pin the full truth of PISA on me, I’ll be ruined.”