Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 76984 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 385(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76984 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 385(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
I took a deep breath and said a silent prayer, as if anyone would listen to it, then I opened the door and walked inside my father’s office.
My father occupied center stage sitting behind his behemoth desk. He didn’t stand or say hello. Instead, he greeted me with a sneer. His attorneys filled every available seat, except the one in front of my father’s desk.
I preferred standing, but decided to take the only seat open. Papers ruffled around me as the attorneys prepared for battle.
“Lucas, you know why we called you here today?” my father finally spoke. His fingers formed a steeple.
“Actually, Father, it could be for several reasons. Please enlighten me.” I relaxed back into the chair, wondering what he would bring up first. The hopes of a buyout or the baby.
“Let’s start with the child.” I figured this would be his first topic. Once the media broke the news, Iron Gate was dragged into the scandal, hitting our stock prices hard. “Is she yours?”
“She is.” I heard a gasp from an attorney. My father shook his head. He added this disappointment to the list of ones he’d never forgive.
“My team will make it go away. Just like Meredith. How much will it take?” Good old Dad had brought his checkbook to the meeting.
“There isn’t a number she’ll take.”
“Everyone has a price.” Bingo, Father. You played right into my hands.
I rose up from my chair and circled the desk, making my way to the window overlooking lower Manhattan. Two people came to mind before I turned around to face everyone in the room. My mother and Esmé, with their matching crystal blue eyes. One dimmed by a tragedy I caused, the other bright with life.
“Lucas, I pay some of these attorneys by the hour, so I need you to tell me you’re going to handle this situation.”
I spun around and exhaled. It was time. Everyone in the room was bound by the attorney-client privilege. What I was about to say would never leave this room, unless my father didn’t cooperate.
“I plan to be personally involved in my daughter’s life. My attorney and I are taking care of the situation.” My father’s nostrils flared like an angry bull.
“The Post has contacted us. They’re sitting on a story that this baby is from a liaison between you and an escort. If that’s correct, the board will want you to remove yourself from day-to-day activities. The scandal will rock Wall Street’s confidence in your leadership.”
“I have an idea that will satisfy everyone in the end. One, I will resign. Two, I agree to letting you sell Iron Gate. Three, you give me personal guardianship over my mother. Her trust will always be connected to yours. I want to make decisions about her physical care.”
The attorneys shifted their eyes from one to another, all leading back to my father’s. Wheels spun as he ran through all the possible scenarios. I imagined the biggest one was his money. How would he come out in the end? My mother’s family started Iron Gate, and I was ending what they created to help her, if my father agreed.
“So, what will it be?”
“I’ll have to defer to my lawyers, especially about the guardianship request.”
“Let me add one more incentive to help with your decision.”
I moved to stand beside my father’s desk. The tension in the room was palpable as everyone waited for me to speak. It was one of those drumroll moments in life.
“If you don’t give me guardianship, the authorities in Vermont will learn the truth. I’ll tell them you lied about my mother being behind the controls of the snowmobile during the accident.” My father squirmed in his seat. It was a rare display of unease. I’d touched a nerve.
A day after the wreck, I’d arrived in Boston to be with my mother. Machines had filled her intensive care room to keep her alive. Her skin had been ghostly pale, her body lifeless. I feared she would die. When she awoke, we learned a part of her had died. Her personality recessed into the state of a twelve-year-old child incapable of handling the responsibilities of life. She was never the same wife or mother again.
I’d stood in her hospital room racked with guilt. I couldn’t keep my secret to myself any longer. I had walked to my father’s side as he sat next to my mother’s bed and told him I had been the one driving the snowmobile. I’d expected his anger, but he went into full battle mode to protect me, reporting the accident to the authorities with my mother as the driver.
At that point, he’d said I had more to lose than her and had made me promise to never tell anyone else. It was our dirty little secret. For years, the lie ate away at my soul, until I fell in love with a woman I thought loved me and confessed what had happened. A weight lifted from me finally sharing it with someone. But she loved my money, not me, and found her golden ticket. It had cost my father millions to keep Meredith quiet.