Page 57 of My Brother's Billionaire Best Friends
“She wants Parker off the event,” Gavin says. “Full stop. If I don’t pull her, Vivian walks.”
“And if she walks?” I ask.
“People follow. Donors. Sponsors. Maybe even a few board votes.”
There it is. The real play. Not about Parker. About Gavin. Heather and Vivian aren’t targeting an assistant—they’reshaking the tree to see what falls out. And if Gavin bends now, they’ll never stop.
“She’s saying Parker’s unqualified?” Harrison asks.
“More than that,” Gavin says. “Heather’s been feeding her information. Started asking questions last week—who hired Parker, how she was vetted, whether her relationship to Phil created a conflict.”
“She knows damn well it didn’t,” I mutter.
“She doesn’t care,” Gavin says. “She’s painting Parker as a liability. She doesn’t fit the image, so they want her gone.”
“And the conduct review?” I ask.
Gavin pulls out his phone and tosses it on the table. “6:12 a.m. yesterday. Filed by Heather. No consultation. No signature from me. I found out when legal cc’d me on the final doc.”
I open the email. It’s worse than I expected. Three paragraphs. Just enough to sound official. Just enough to create a record that something’s wrong, even if nothing is. The language is vague—“potential conflict…concerns raised…recommendation for temporary reassignment.”
“This is bullshit,” I say.
“She filed it under reputation risk.”
“Heather is the reputation risk,” Harrison mutters.
“She’s not working alone,” Gavin says. “Vivian’s backing her.”
Of course she is. They’ve been in lockstep for years—Vivian’s voice, Heather’s hands. Heather enforces what Vivian doesn’t want to say out loud. Besties in the worst way.
“And now what?” Harrison asks. “You’re supposed to yank Parker off the gala so your mother doesn’t get her feelings hurt?”
“According to Heather, yes.”
“What happens if you don’t?”
“Vivian pulls everything. And if she does that, the board starts asking questions.”
“About your leadership,” I say.
Gavin nods.
“And if Parker stays, you look compromised.”
“If I pull her, Iamcompromised,” he says, voice hard now. “I’m not throwing her under the bus for optics.”
Good. Because if he evenhintedat the possibility, I’d have to reconsider working here, and I’ve grown accustomed to my career. I don’t want to start over somewhere else. “Then what are we doing?”
“I’m trying to keep the gala from turning into a referendum on my decision-making.”
“It already is,” Harrison says. “You just haven’t responded yet.”
Silence falls again. Heavy. Charged. He’s not wrong, and we all know it. I finish the last of my coffee. Cold now. Bitter in a different way. Then I look at Gavin. Really look at him.
And I see the weight on him—the pressure of being his mother’s son in a company she built with gold-plated claws. He’s trying to run forward with her hand still clenched in his shoulder blades.
It won’t work. I clear my throat. “She’s testing you.”
