Page 3 of King of Guilt

“Emma, please bring your belongings and come in. Make it look like you’ve already left for the day, because I don’t want anyone to interrupt us.”

“Of course.”

As I quickly gathered my things, I wondered if Dean was in the right mind to delegate anything to me right now. Nonetheless, I was willing to do whatever it took to make this time easier for him.

two

Big Boys Don’t Cry

Dean

When Emma stepped into my office, coolly putting down her things on the side table by the door before closing it behind her, I tried to collect the scattered bits of my melted brain. With questioning eyes, she approached me, holding her trusty notepad and pen as she lowered herself into the chair in front of me. She clicked her pen once, as if cocking a gun, and I saw her shoulders slightly rise with a sharp inhalation before saying, “Ready whenever you are.”

“You won’t need to write this down,” I calmly said. Visibly puzzled, yet without taking her eyes off of me, Emma slowly put down the items on the desk before lowering her hands back into her lap. The alcohol in my bloodstream, now an essential part of this moment, supplemented me with the moral courage to part my lips and say, “Emma, it’s important for me that you understand that I’ve spent the better half of the night and all day contemplating this.” I paused, watching her eyes widen just a little. “I may be drunk now, but I’d decided on this hour before this happened.”

“Mr. Allen, whatever you need—”

“Please, let me finish. This won’t be simple for me to say, nor will it be easy for you to digest.” Honestly, I was amazed at my own ability to articulate my thoughts at all. She nodded, keeping her eyes on mine. “My mom’s been diagnosed with a critically advanced form of colon cancer. As it turns out, it has developed aggressively in the last six months since her last checkup.” I choked back tears that threatened to emerge, blinking quickly as I distracted my eyes by looking at the pen I was now fiddling with. “The doctors have proposed a surgery, and though it’s urgent, she’s currently unstable. They gave us eight days at most before they absolutely have to operate.”

With a quick glance, I saw her lower lip tremble and instantly looked away. I knew she cared for my mother, but her tears would so easily summon my own. Instead, I carried on. “She has a ten percent chance of making it, if at all. All of which can be forecasted during the month following the operation.”

“I’m—I’m really sorry,” she whispered.

Gesturing with my hand in the air, I blurted out, “Yeah, you’re sorry, I’m sorry, everyone’s sorry.” I paused and checked in with the look in her eyes—absolutely heartbroken, as it seemed. “You know how much she’s given up for me and for this company.” She quickly nodded, and I could see her swallow hard. “And the only thing she’s ever wanted from me… was the one thing I thought I had the time to give her. The hopeless romantic that she is—” a bittersweet chuckle escaped my lips as I shook my head, looking away. “She prayed for nothing more than to see me settled down with a life partner before she leaves this world.”

Looking back up, I saw the expression on Emma’s face freeze for a second. She then tenderly smiled. “She tells me that almost every other time we talk,” Emma remarked with a soft voice, as if reminiscing.

“Well.” I knew just how sour my smile was. “And now, with maybe a week, a month, at best a year to live…” Once again, it took superhuman power for me not to let my tears fall. “I find myself backed into a corner. I want her to go… happy.” Emma dipped her head a little, her eyes examining my face from under sympathetically curved eyebrows. I summoned the nerve to add, “I apologize in advance for the circumstances that have placed you at the center of it all.”

“Me?”

“I have a proposition for you. It won’t be easy, but I promise you… when it’s all over, you won’t even have to see my face again.”

“Mr. Allen!” She shook her head, her gaze lost.

“What I’m about to ask of you may be considered highly unethical by most. But nobody would ever understand unless they were in my shoes. Unfortunately, no one is… and I’ve run out of ideas.” I paused, seeing on her face that she was beginning to guess where this was going. “Emma, if you agree to marry me before my mother’s operation, you will receive a tax-free compensation of one million dollars.” Her eyes widened, so I added, “And for every month my mother spends with us, you’ll receive an additional million.”

With parted lips and a dazed expression, Emma said nothing for the long, deafeningly quiet moment that followed. When she finally blinked, she quickly asked, as if afraid that the words might soon elude her, “You want us to get married before next week?”

Leaning forward, I knew I had a chance to persuade her. If the answer was truly and definitely a ‘no’, she wouldn’t still be sitting across from me right now. Lifting a hand, I explained, “Please, don’t misunderstand me. You’ve been to the house before. It’s massive. You’ll get your own suite. We’ll sleep separately, of course. And you won’t even have to see me or interact with me except for when she’s around.” I stopped and drew a quick breath, torn inside at the state of my mother. “She doesn’t move much now, Emma. It’ll all be very minimal, I promise you.”

A single tear rolled down her cheek, and I envied her, lacking the same ability to cry in front of anyone.

I wished I could.

“Mr. Allen, how—how would she even believe it?”

Furrowing my eyebrows, I took a sip—well, more like a chug—of the screwdriver I had created with the juice she had brought me earlier. Calmly placing down the glass, I did my best not to appear drunk or jittery. “The—The medication she’s on for the pain… they won’t exactly give her much focus. It’s likely that she’ll believe anything we tell her at this point.”

Emma must have read the pain in my face, because for a fleeting moment, she lifted up her hand and reached for mine over the desk. I quickly pulled away, withdrawing from her compassionate gesture. As painful as it was not to be able to receive kindness, it posed a great threat to the composure I fought with all my might to maintain.

Instead, I was adamant on remaining practical and pragmatic. “Today is the sixth. If you agree—and I hope that you do—then we can tell her tonight, if she’s awake and lucid enough. Maximum by tomorrow.” Studying her confused face, and the way her eyes aimlessly floated about the room, I leaned forward and took her hand. This time, it was me offering comfort. “I know it’s a lot to take. But I don’t have much time. Mom didn’t even remarry after my father passed away. Did you know that?”

She nodded. “I—I’d heard.”

“She refused to bring a man into our lives, someone who could threaten our peace or my ability to adapt after the loss of my father. She chose to play both parts, with the help of her brother and the rest of the family. Emma, I owe her this. You’ve got to understand.”

“I—I do, I’m just…” she stammered, shaking her head. “How will I tell everyone? And when?”

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