Page 40 of All That She Needs

Bryan Hoofer, my CFO, with his ever-calming, soothing voice, spoke. "Pierre. You submitted these numbers to me, and I have checked twice. This is the correct one. You actually reported the right numbers. But I hoped that's only a typo that made your presented numbers wrong."

Pierre sneaked a heated glance at Ryan, who turned beet red.

My patience, already thin, snapped entirely. "Your budget is twenty million, and by the third quarter, you've already spent seventeen million. Now, you're proposing a plan that needs an additional five million. That's two million more than the original budget. Are you out of your mind? You want to ask for more money? How? What you're suggesting is to slash our profits so you can squander millions. Your plan only addresses a third of the sales budget, yet you expect to increase total yearly sales by thirty percent with this idiotic scheme? It's not substantial enough—not even close to justifying the social buzz you're hoping for, which I still doubt is worthwhile. Andyou planned for sampling, but Jerry hasn't adjusted his supply forecast. His numbers are unchanged from last time. Do you think he can magically conjure up raw materials? I understand communication is key, but twenty million is a massive budget for just that. I was expecting a wow moment, and all I got was a fucking disappointment."

Pierre was trembling. Ryan was shaking. Sean shot me a furious look. Bryan seemed at a loss for how to handle the situation. Everyone was tense, but none of them could argue with my point.

"Next time, check your fucking facts. Read your numbers again and again." I took a deep breath. "And don't trust some stupid interns to do your presentation."

I pushed my chair back, stood up, and stormed out of the room with Sean hot on my back.

"What!" I snapped at him when we were both alone in the elevator, which I suspected nobody wanted to be near me and rather waited for the next one.

"That's impressive, boss. I cannot argue with your argument, and in fact, I was quite proud of you."

I turned my head to look at him, dumbfounded. "Huh?"

"Yeah, I always thought you were too soft, too understanding. You'd spot a mistake but give them chance after chance. They grew neglectful, undermining the importance of getting it right. But today, you're fierce."

I still didn't get this guy. So, I just shook my head in exasperation, cursing to myself.

"It would be perfect if you could cut back on the swearing, though. Using profanity in a meeting isn't a leadership trait that inspires people."

I sighed. Didn't care to respond to that.

"And I hope this isn't because of Ryan..."

My head quickly snapped towards him. Gritting my teeth, I rumbled. "Explain what you mean. Now."

Sean hesitated, fidgeting nervously, before speaking. "I heard some office gossip about you and Vanessa. When she came to the office, the way you looked at her... it was just... sad. So, so sad. Then you moved to the apartment. Then you didn't even bother to shave. You looked haggard and dilapidated, unlike your usual immaculate self. You were obviously depressed. I also heard about her engagement to Ryan. It all suddenly makes sense."

I cursed under my breath and shifted my gaze forward. I wasn't about to say anything. But hearing Sean say I looked... sad made me realize I was still struggling to let Vanessa go. I shouldn't hold so much resentment toward Ryan, who was innocent in all this. I'd blown things way out of proportion. It was a big mistake, sure, but that didn't justify the way I lashed out at him. I'd mixed personal feelings with work—and not in a good way.

I sighed. Feeling thoroughly exhausted. I felt like I was at the breaking point.

"Anyway..." He mumbled as the door opened. "Good job, boss. The meeting was fucking fantastic!"

Part 21: Aiden

The next day, I arrived at the house in the morning to find Max and Mason perched on the kitchen island stools, eating breakfast. The moment they saw me, they tensed, glaring at me with murder in their eyes. When I glanced at Asha, confused, she walked over and whispered, "Kayden called them. Told them everything."

Right. That's why.

I guessed it was a good thing that they didn't punch me in the face, especially knowing how hotheaded they were. Asha must have already made them promise not to do it. That was another thing that should make me think twice about cheating—having brothers-in-law who knew exactly how to drug me into a coma as punishment for hurting the person they swore to protect for the rest of their life.

Max and Mason were like brothers to me. But our bond wasn't something that formed overnight—it took years to finally gain their trust and build a friendship. They were the most reserved, the most untrusting people I had ever known. When I first met them, I could tell that they had walls built high around them, walls that had been steadily constructed over time, likely from experiences that, until today, I never really knew why. And I didn't think Asha knew either. But it was clear that they didn't let just anyone in, and for a long time, I was kept at arm's length. Conversations stayed on the surface, and though we hung out together—usually for Asha's sake—there was always a distance, an invisible line that prevented me from crossing.

I remained patient, not pushing or forcing my way into their lives. I was just there. Consistent and steady. I wanted them to see that my interest in their friendship wasn't out of obligation because of my relationship with Asha, but because I genuinely wanted it. I truly liked them. I never had siblings, so building this bond mattered to me. Over time, things shifted. They began inviting me to hang out, greeted me first instead of keeping their distance, and gradually let me see more of who they really were.

And then it hit me—a painful truth I hadn't seen coming. I had lost my brothers, too.

I sighed. I was on my wit's end here. I had no choice but just to purge through, hoping that somehow, someday, they all would forgive me.

Steeling myself, I approached them. I rounded the kitchen island and stood across them so that they could see my face. I wanted them to see my remorse, my sincere determination to fix this family. I wanted to tell them I owned my mistake and gave no excuses. They would be free to say whatever they wanted to say or do to me.

I looked at them, trying to catch their eyes. And they slowly looked up, challenging my gaze in silence.

"Go on," I said quietly. "Yell at me. Curse at me. Punch me in the face. Do whatever the fuck you want with me. I will take it. I deserve it."

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