Chapter 14: What He Owes Her
1064 Words
(BLAKE POV)
---
"I need to see you," I said. "Today."
Come to "my study by four o'clock."
He hung up before I could say what it was about.
Thirty six years. Not once had he asked what was wrong before telling me where to show up.
---
Alexander was already seated when I walked in.
Both hands in his lap,the large chair holding him differently. “I sat down”
"The board is restless," I said. "Lorenzo called me twice this week. Luciano is building alliances with Lawson and two other members I haven't located yet."
Alexander didn't say anything.
"The Gilded Rose photograph is circulating online. Parents at Nathaniel's school are talking and aria's presence at the estate is becoming a public conversation." I leaned forward. "And Olivia—"
"What about Olivia."
"She's different. She said something to me in the library that I can't shake. Something has shifted and I can't locate where."
"What did she say?"
"She asked if I was speaking as her husband or as the man who staged his mistress's return to our home."
He looked at me steadily.
"I need to know the clause is protected," I said. "I need to know what I've built isn't going to collapse because of timing."
"You've always been better at acquiring things than valuing them," he said.
I waited for him to continue, he kept silent
"What does that mean?"
"How is Nathaniel."
"Father—"
"I am asking of the boy Blake."
"He's good." I sat back. "He and Aria have taken to each other."
Something moved across Alexander's face. Gone before I could read it. "Yes," he said quietly. "I imagine they have."
"You're not concerned about any of it," I said.
"I'm always concerned Blake,concern and panic are different things."
"The board is moving against me."
"The board is watching you. There's a difference."
"Luciano—"
"He is patient." He picked up his pen. "You've never understood how dangerous patience is because you've never practiced it."
I looked at him. "You're talking about me like a problem you've already solved."
He kept quiet.
"Am I?" I asked. "Is it that what I've been this whole time? A problem you've been managing?"
He turned a page on his desk without reading it.
"The sealed directive," I said. "I want to know what's in it."
"Everything that needs to be in it,Is there."
"That's not an answer."
"That's the only answer available today."
"I'm your son."
"You are." His eyes stayed on mine. "When the time comes everything will be clear. Until then your energy belongs on what's in front of you."
"The things in front of me are coming apart."
"Then perhaps look at why." He reached for his tea. "That will be all."
"I'm not finished."
"I am." He looked at me with the specific finality of a man who had never once needed to raise his voice to close a conversation. "Good afternoon Blake."
I stood up and walked out.
---
Fischer was in the hallway when I dashed out.
Same leather briefcase he carries all the time. He looked up when he heard my footsteps and his grip shifted on the handle immediately.
"Is he alright?" I asked.
"Alexander is in good health for a man of his age."
"That's not what I asked."
"It's what I can tell you."
"Fischer." I stepped close, "I'm not a board member asking for a status report I'm his son. How long has he been losing weight? How long have the visits been twice a week?"
He looked at me for a moment. something moved behind his eyes that he was careful not to let reach his face.
"Your father is a private man," he said carefully. "He manages his own affairs."
"He's not just a patient."
"I know that sir." He adjusted his grip on the briefcase. "I've known your father for thirty years. I understand what he is to you."
"Then tell me something true."
Fischer looked at me for a long moment.
"I don't have anything to say Mr. Sterling," he said. "Good evening."
He walked to the front door without looking back.
I watched him go.
The briefcase he kept holding tight and The frequency of visits. The answer technically accurate and completely hollow.
I went to my office.
---
The whiskey I left still sat untouched on the desk.
My father's words kept turning.
“Better at acquiring things than valuing them.”
I pulled up Olivia's original contract file,Six years old. I had signed it without reading past the key clauses — financial terms, heir requirement, duration. The parts that mattered to the deal.
I sat down and read the rest now.
Her circumstances at signing,The medical debt. Her mother's treatment schedule. What she agreed to give up.
Her career trajectory,and independence.
The right to pursue outside relationships.
Her claim to any professional recognition arising from work performed in support of Sterling Global operations.
I stopped at that last clause and read it again.
Six years of her work going out under my name. Board calls she handled before they became fires. Documents that left her desk and arrived at mine already resolved.
Every crisis that never became a crisis because she caught it first and fixed it quietly and said nothing.
I closed the file.
I thought about the morning she signed her name on the merger brief and slid it across to me without a word. I had forwarded it within the hour. Never once looked up to ask who wrote it.
She had been running the company from the background and I had been taking the credit and calling it leadership. Looking at her the way you looked at something functional — present, useful and unremarkable.
My phone buzzed,I checked it was my head of security,messages loaded.
A name I didn't recognize, a financial account and a blind trust in the Cayman Islands.
I read the next line.
Sir — the account has been receiving monthly transfers from your father's private estate fund for the past six years. The beneficiary is Aria Collins.*
I read it again and the third time.
The glass sat completely still in my hand.
Six years,my father funded aria’s account.
I set the phone face down, picked it up again and read it one more time
How could this be possible?
- Writer
