Page 64 of My Brother's Billionaire Best Friends
To tell her, to her face, that her time micromanaging this company is over. That I’m done apologizing for being her son, for carrying the wreckage of my father’s name, for stepping into the job she never really let go of.
But even now—pulse still racing, jaw still tense—I know exactly what I need.
Parker. The only person who makes me feel like I’m still human under all this weight. I don’t hesitate. I reach for the intercom, press the button.
“Parker,” I say, voice steady. “Come to my office, please.”
There’s a pause. Then her voice, quiet but clear. “Yes, Mr. Thatcher.”
I sit in my chair and wait. The tension in my shoulders doesn’t go away, but it shifts. Refocuses. Becomes something heavier. Lower. A little darker.
When the door opens, she walks in looking exactly like she did earlier—sleek, efficient, guarded. Her heels are modest, her blouse tucked in neatly, her hands holding a tablet, like she’s prepared for a meeting that never got put on the calendar.
She closes the door behind her gently. “You wanted to see me?” Her voice is calm. Controlled. But I see it in her posture—the uncertainty. The caution.
She thinks this might be the conversation she’s been bracing for all week. The one where I tell her it’s over. That the board decided, or HR has questions, or she’s being reassigned for optics.
It takes effort not to go to her immediately. Instead, I stay seated. Watch her walk toward me. “You’ve had a hard week.”
She blinks. Her lips part slightly. That’s not what she expected. “Uh. Yes. A little.”
I nod. “People talking behind your back. Board members watching. My mother sniffing around your desk.”
Her throat moves as she swallows. “It’s not your fault.”
“It’s exactly my fault.”
She shifts her weight slightly. “I chose this. I knew what it could mean.”
“No,” I say, standing slowly. “You didn’t.”
She lifts her eyes to mine, and for once, she doesn’t look away.
“You thought this would be casual,” I say, walking around the desk toward her. “You thought we’d keep it quiet. That it wouldn’t touch anything else.” I stop just a few inches from her. “And now?”
She breathes in. Exhales slowly. “Now I’m not sure what it is.”
I reach for the tablet in her hands and set it on the table behind her, gently, before turning back to her fully. “It’s the reason I fired my mother’s best friend this morning.”
Her eyes widen.
“Heather is gone,” I say. “And Vivian knows exactly why.”
Parker opens her mouth. Closes it. Then, “What did you do?”
“Handled it.”
“Gavin—”
“She leaked your conduct review. She undermined the hiring process. She moved against me. And she thought I’d sit quietly while she did it.”
Parker stares up at me. “She’s been here for decades.”
“Then she should’ve known better than to come after what’s mine.”
And something breaks in her. The tension in her shoulders loosens. Her eyes soften. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“Yes,” I say. “I did.” I close the space between us fully now.
