Page 80 of Discretion at Its Finest

It was late in the afternoon. The building was growing quiet, the sun setting over the city horizon. My tie was already loosened when I poured another drink. The amber liquid sloshed against the crystal as I leaned back in my chair, staring at the framed skyline across from me.

The papers on my desk blurred together. Projections.Revisedprojections. Investment tanks. Divesture of assets. All a part of Reid’s plan to fix everything. Rewrite the narrative. Be the fucking hero.

I downed the liquid, rage simmering under my skin as I welcomed the burn in my chest.

You’re losing control.

The door to my office opened without a knock. I didn’t bother looking back.

“You’re still here,” my father said.

His voice had that familiar tone restrained with a hint of caution. I finally turned in my chair as he closed the door behind him, his suit immaculate as ever, silver hair combed back, facecarved from years of practicing stoicism while disappointment lingered underneath.

“Should I not be?” I asked.

He ignored that, as usual, and stood across from my desk. His gaze flicked to the empty glass in my hand, then away again. “You should go home,” he said. “Clear your head.”

I laughed under my breath and poured another drink. “That’s rich.”

“I thought we agreed you’d cut back,” he said.

“That was beforeheshowed up.” Bringing the glass to my lips, I took another long swallow.

Raymond walked to the window, staring out at the city. “Perception matters,” he said after a moment. “Right now, Reid’s presence reassures investors, the board and the press.”

I stayed silent as I reached into the stack of papers and pulled out the folded article I’d been staring at for the past hour. I slid it across the desk toward him without a word.

Raymond skimmed it as he turned, his expression tightening line by line.

Kaufman’s Return Signals More than a Financial Revival.

The alcohol buzz in my mind began mixing with something darker as I stood. “My fiancée… and son disappear to California with my brother,” I continued, pacing now, the words scraping their way out of my throat. “She’s photographed at his headquarters. Arriving with him at his charity gala. He’s showing up at soccer games, hospital appointments—” I laughed, sharp and ugly. “Playing house.”

Raymond’s jaw tightened. “Lower your voice.”

“Why?” I snapped, whipping my head around to him. “So no one hears how fucking embarrassing this is?”

He turned from the window, eyes narrowing as he glanced over at the closed door. Always trying to save face, always trying to hide the fucking truth from the world. “Gregory—”

“Don’t,” I cut him off. “Don’t say my name like I’m the problem here.”

Raymond exhaled slowly, the way he did when he was trying not to lose his temper. “You’re letting this get personal.”

“Personal?” I barked. “He’s dismantling my life in public—”

“Let’s not forget for the last three years you dismantled our lives. The family name tarnished, investments under, on the verge of bringing us to bankruptcy again.”

My jaw clenched. “He’s parading her around like she belongs to him. It’s insulting.”

“Andnowthe relationship matters,” he said flatly.

I stopped short. “What?”

“Now,” he repeated. “You’re angry? Now you’re wounded? Now you want to act like Genevieve was sacred.”

My chest tightened. “She is—”

“She was convenient,” he interrupted. “And she tolerated you, chose you when Reid left.” The words landed hard. “Don’t stand there and pretend you cherished that relationship when you barely showed up for it.”